tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57200468276444288312024-03-19T06:58:00.503-06:00Tamber's LifeLife's a bowl of cherries . . .Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-47276283713852030542012-07-22T22:23:00.001-06:002012-07-23T11:57:35.432-06:00Party Like an Egyptian<div style="text-align: center;">
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My Millie girl just turned 7! (Can you believe that?!) And it's a good thing for birthdays or I might never get around to updating my blog!</div>
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Shortly after her <a href="http://tamberslife.blogspot.com/2011/08/rock-star-birthday.html" target="_blank">rock star party</a> last year, Millie became intrigued by ancient Egypt and declared that her next party would revolve around that theme. Years ago, luckily for me, I had clipped and saved a Child Magazine article, "Fit for a Pharaoh" party of the month. It gave me lots of ideas and I came up with a few of my own.<br />
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For the invitation we set out to find some papyrus-looking paper and raffia but came away with this golden textured paper and hieroglyphic-adorned ribbon. Then I downloaded a hieroglyphic-inspired font, rolled up the invites like a scroll and voila!</div>
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For Millie, the most important aspect of the whole party was decorations! Gold decor is harder to come across than you might imagine, but I did my best.<br />
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Guests arrived to a play list including "Walk Like an Egyptian", "King Tut", and the theme songs from Aladdin, and Prince of Egypt. Then we put the girls to work making Egyptian masks. </div>
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Next we gave each girl a wooden box that had been spray painted gold (thanks Mark!), and some jewels and glue.</div>
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The boxes then became useful as they filled them with buried treasure . . . or ancient artifacts from an archaeological dig in a sandbox.</div>
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Before the party I buried rubber snakes and frogs along with jewelry and typed up a list of what they needed to find.</div>
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Then they used paint brushes to carefully search for treasures in the sand.</div>
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And no Egyptian party would be complete without wrapping a mummy!<br />
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After all that activity we took a break for a snack of hummus and cucumbers. They liked the cucumbers but the hummus? . . . Not so much.</div>
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Then we opened gifts, Millie got so many nice things!</div>
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Then everyone was ready for cake and ice cream! Millie had requested a honey cake, so Mark did his best and made this carrot-honey cake, with cream cheese, butter and honey frosting. As far as healthy-ish cakes go, it was divine!</div>
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Then we gave each girl a box of pyramid-shaped Toblerone chocolates and an encrypted hieroglyphic thank-you message to decode at home. All my idea . . . pretty proud of myself. :)</div>
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After the party, Millie's primary teachers stopped by with a card and an adorable hand-made headband. And her grandma Barbara came by with a beautiful framed photo of her mother whose name, Maurine, Millie shares as a middle name; and a monogram necklace bearing the letter "M".</div>
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After all that partying I was too exhausted to think about dinner so we headed out on the town. Couldn't think of anywhere that serves Egyptian fare, so we went with the next best thing, Indian food!<br />
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Millie and I were both so pleased with how everything turned out! <br />
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I hope she remembers it for the rest of her life.</div>
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Happy Birthday Millie!</div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-35032160648174813932011-12-12T21:53:00.000-07:002011-12-12T21:55:46.608-07:00Ivy's Sweet Shop BirthdayAnyone who knows Ivy, knows that she loves candy. So when I asked about a theme for her upcoming 4th birthday, it was no surprise to me that she asked for a "candy party". So we went with a candy/sweet shop theme and made all her dreams come true!<br />
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I had fun creating this little window display with window crayons, to welcome family as they arrived.<br />
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I borrowed the tissue-paper pom-poms from my sister-in-law, and I think they definitely completed the candy party look.<br />
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We had to make a special trip to a real candy shop beforehand, for inspiration and to purchase the giant lollipops and candy wands.<br />
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Mark had this great idea to do a write up in chalk. Love it.<br />
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And my oh-so-talented, jewelry-making sister-in-law (the same one who made the tissue-paper pom-poms), Katie, helped us make gumball necklaces for all the children.<br />
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Mark drilled holes in the gumballs before the party, then Katie strung ribbon through them, tying knots on either side of each gumball. Super adorable, but oh-so-sticky! (Especially when the sugar addicts started licking them!)<br />
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While the necklaces were being made, the kids decorated paper sacks that they later filled with candy to take home. We had a "candy cane" cake (also Ivy's idea) with ice cream and had a lovely time visiting with family and celebrating Ivy's birth. And the very best part of the whole event was that Ivy was on cloud 9 the entire time! Making this great memory for her was so worth it. Happy Birthday Ivy Jo.Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-56660510215132988242011-11-23T08:37:00.001-07:002011-11-23T20:52:52.286-07:00Gifts that last . . . longer anywayI read a statistic a while back stating that 99 percent of manufactured goods end up in the landfill. Ninety-nine percent! Now when I walk down the isles of our local box store I just imagine everything heaped up in a landfill and it's pretty sad. I wish I didn't contribute to such a travesty but as a materialistic American I just can't seem to get away from it; consuming goods is completely ingrained into my brain. However I am committed to doing better. I have determined to give gifts that last . . . and I'm not talking about plastic or Styrofoam that promises to never decompose in the landfill. I'm talking about meaningful, useful gifts that will get many, many years of use before they are ever considered being tossed. So no more plastic toys. There I said it. And I'm sticking to it! So what options does that leave me with when giving to children? I guess things like books, clothing, wooden toys are far more likely to be appreciated and not thrown out. More ideas would be greatly appreciated. But with my children in mind, here are a few things I'd like to get for them.<br />
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Oliver got excited just seeing a picture of this <a href="http://mightynest.com/shop/toys-art-supplies/dolls-stuffed-animals/wool-hand-puppet-bear" target="_blank">puppet</a>. I think he'd be in love if it talk to him and tickled his tummy.<br />
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I think both my girls would get a kick out of this <a href="http://mightynest.com/shop/toys-art-supplies/building-stacking/wooden-cubebot" target="_blank">cube-bot toy</a>, but their daddy would probably love it best of all.<br />
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Millie can leave a water bottle on her desk at school to sip throughout the day (what a great idea). One of these <a href="http://mightynest.com/shop/travel-beverage-bottles/water-bottles/12oz-kanteen-classic-wsport-cap" target="_blank">12 oz. kanteens</a> would be perfect for the job!<br />
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Ivy would totally love doing this <a href="http://mightynest.com/shop/toys-art-supplies/puzzles-games/landscape-solid-wood-puzzle" target="_blank">puzzle</a> (with some help). I'm trying to talk Mark into making one for her.<br />
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And this next item doesn't look that impressive but my girls would both experience countless hours of enjoyment. They LOVE straws and are always sad when they get too nasty for me and I chuck them in the trash. These <a href="http://mightynest.com/shop/kitchenware/utensils-straws/simple-elegance-shorty-glass-straw" target="_blank">glass straws</a> come with a brush to clean them out and a life-time guarantee. They're not supposed to break but if they do, the company replaces them. Plus since they're glass they never release toxins and are 100% dishwasher safe. I think it is a must-have for us.<br />
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Unfortunately all of these things are more expensive than your regular run-of-the-mill, over-packaged plastic toys. But I keep telling myself that I'd rather pay more for a few high-quality items than pay any dollar amount for garbage.Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-64506761295176338292011-11-16T14:27:00.001-07:002011-11-17T14:46:49.341-07:00Just for fun!So with Christmas and my birthday just around the corner (. . . and Ivy's birthday . . . and Mark's birthday!). I am totally in consumer mode. And since I know I won't be purchasing the majority of the things on my shopping wish-list, I thought I'd post them here for all of you to enjoy. So even if I don't get the satisfaction of buying and owning them at least I'll get to pretend I did (sort of the feeling I get from "pinning" things to Pinterest but for a different audience). Since my b-day is first on the list of events, I'll start with me:<br />
So, I have this fetish for pretty dishes, don't know why, but I do. And at the moment I am pining away for these <a href="http://www.westelm.com/products/modernist-collection-e681/?pkey=ctabletop-sale" target="_blank">mugs and bowls</a> from West Elm.<br />
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Cute right? If I . . . I mean Mark, were to actually buy them for me I'm not sure if I'd go with a mix (as shown) or stick with one style. If I could only choose one I'd have to go with the yellow, but I think a mix is best. They're 20% off right now, with free shipping . . . so tempting!<br />
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I also want <a href="http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=78711&catId=HOME-TABLETOP-DINNERWARE&pushId=HOME-TABLETOP-DINNERWARE&popId=HOME&navCount=6&color=grn&isProduct=true&fromCategoryPage=true&isSubcategory=true&subCategoryId=HOME-DINNER-BOWLS" target="_blank">these</a> bowls from Anthropologie.<br />
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I'm kind of hoping my mom will get them for me for Christmas to go with <a href="http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=78405&catId=HOME-TABLETOP-DINNERWARE&pushId=HOME-TABLETOP-DINNERWARE&popId=HOME&navCount=6&color=red&isProduct=true&fromCategoryPage=true&isSubcategory=true&subCategoryId=HOME-DINNER-BOWLS" target="_blank">these</a> bowls she gave me last year. What do you say mom? Pleeeeaaase.<br />
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Also if Santa is reading this, I'd love to find a new eyelash curler in my stocking along with some new mascara and <a href="http://www.scotchnaturals.com/" target="_blank">non-toxic</a> nailpolish. Thanks!<br />
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That's enough of what I want. My next post will be about my wish-list for Ivy.Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-13005257686414188932011-11-12T21:47:00.002-07:002011-12-12T23:05:43.196-07:00What Grandma Nora Knew All Along<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My paternal grandmother, Nora Rust Mickelson, passed away last week on November 3, just over a month shy of her 100th birthday. She was an amazing woman: honest, true, chaste, benevolent, hard-working and strictly obedient to the commandments of the Lord.<br />
At her age one might think that her death was only to be expected, however I think it still came as a bit of a surprise to many of us who knew her. In fact, the family was busily planning a big celebration for her upcoming birthday. I suppose the reason her passing came as such a surprise is because of Nora's virtually unheard of good health! For the most part she was still active and vibrant until the day she died; even joking with the ER doctor that she felt so great she could beat him in a foot race.<br />
I used to love to brag about my 90-year-old grandmother who still raised chickens, tended to a large vegetable garden, and diligently went to the temple several times a week. Oh, how I admired her! So of course I was flattered at her funeral when my uncle said in his talk that when it came to healthy living, Nora considered me her only disciple. To that I must say, "Oh Grandma! You're too sweet! But you entirely underestimate your influence . . . and your posterity." For I know that many of her descendants are actively seeking to follow her example of healthy living!<br />
I can only assume my dear grandma thought of me because I had the privilege of staying with her in her home for several weeks last summer where she and I had the opportunity to talk at length on the topic of health. She was thrilled to learn that I don't use a microwave oven (ever!) and that I was planning to (and later did) have a home birth.<br />
I know those things don't make me unique <span style="background-color: white;">but</span> as I have received a few inquires since the funeral I'll try to briefly explain some of my other ideas.<br />
The subject of being "healthy" has always interested me, however for years I was only motivated by vanity. I wanted to be beautiful and I wanted to be thin! So as fashion magazines had the greatest number of beautiful thin people on their pages, I mistakenly believed that they were somehow experts on how to achieve such an appearance. So I followed their advice: I slathered on the sunscreen, I dieted, I counted calories, I ate Special K cereal with skimmed milk for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I did sit-ups and ran mile after mile on a treadmill - and yet I continued to be chubby, unhealthy and of course unhappy. Eventually I surrendered to the idea that I was probably never going to achieve my goal and gave up even trying. Years passed and by fate or by chance I was led to some amazing people who opened my eyes to what true health is really about. This has set me on a journey of discovery. And the more I discover the more I stand in awe at how much wisdom Grandma Nora had all along!<br />
As a child I remember being instructed by grandma to go outside and get some vitamin from the sun and I thought to myself, "Vitamins are the Flintstones in a bottle . . . what is grandma talking about?" Then as a preteen I went to visit her whilst wearing some of my sister, Alexis' perfume. But after asking grandma to smell me, she quoted a verse from Isaiah about how in the last days the daughters of Zion would stink! I took another whiff of my scented wrist and couldn't figure out what she was talking about. And as a newly married adult, every summer she continued to ask Mark and me if we had planted a garden. To which I always wished I could answer yes, but only twice had the opportunity to do so.<br />
As it turns out grandma was right about everything! The sun is amazing! It doesn't actually give you vitamins but after exposure to its rays, the body produces a steroid hormone called Vitamin D. And as it turns out, for every person who dies from skin cancer, 100 people die from a Vitamin D deficiency-related disease!<br />
As for perfume, I no longer wear it. After learning what sort of dangerous chemicals are used to constitute the word "fragrance" on a label's list of ingredients and the devastating effects they can have on the human body, I find myself shying away from all things smelly. Now I truly think they stink.<br />
And although I always agreed with grandma on the garden thing, I now have an increased appreciation for it. It's become apparent to me that the food supply in America is very polluted, not only literally but also morally. And when food is grown for the sole purpose of being sold at a profit, the food's integrity and nutritional value is undoubtedly compromised. Consequently we are all suffering a myriad of maladies. If we are what we eat it stands to reason that low-quality food equates with low-quality health and vice verse. Grandma's health was a prime example of this scenario. She raised her own cows, chickens and vegetable garden along with many fruit trees. Giving her control over how the majority of her food was produced, resulting in a safe and nutritionally dense diet -- contributing greatly to her good health (in addition to her devout committment to following the Word of Wisdom of course). <br />
My diet is nowhere as pure as my grandmother's but I hope that someday it will be. And I'm glad to say that I am no longer motivated by vanity. I simply wish to be as healthy as possible for as long as possible so that I can continue to serve others and serve the Lord without becoming a burden on others (or at least have the peace of mind that I did my best to avoid becoming so). For now I am taking one step at a time to change my lifestyle to be more like Nora's - free of toxins, full of sunlight and high-quality, honest food. And when it comes to finding an expert on health and happiness, we would all be wise to skip what conventional media has to say and instead, remember what we've been told by Grandma Nora.Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-8492685136913656412011-08-29T21:36:00.000-06:002011-08-29T21:36:19.332-06:00Don't Tell Her It's Cute<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8AbZA2FYpCiIAqsMz3RmG-wCyW_rOp-mRCNwbKNa9C6aPSGbQTLTN1O0pu0fQF3GVXXIWBmvI96MTpNQ19PrUiQgXnVxVpnjcIzh2Z8sXi9MS6iUF5L6Z2Xca-SyAC3PaO7MZYM8CBc6q/s1600/063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8AbZA2FYpCiIAqsMz3RmG-wCyW_rOp-mRCNwbKNa9C6aPSGbQTLTN1O0pu0fQF3GVXXIWBmvI96MTpNQ19PrUiQgXnVxVpnjcIzh2Z8sXi9MS6iUF5L6Z2Xca-SyAC3PaO7MZYM8CBc6q/s320/063.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>We let Ivy's hair grow out for far too long. So when I couldn't stand it any longer I pulled out the scissors.<br />
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Here are the "before" shots:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WV_fDjGE87EvWUtUbEj_JjHLRxlIykzp1SeoaO8fkM6JrHuk8lmbaLSyk69nSM5QKps9vP3OvCD5KPdCFVLHFI7_hZO9vVQCR7NGz76KLKXZ1xiHHOljGmbBANJBQVFaXFpRKFeIGSC_/s1600/057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WV_fDjGE87EvWUtUbEj_JjHLRxlIykzp1SeoaO8fkM6JrHuk8lmbaLSyk69nSM5QKps9vP3OvCD5KPdCFVLHFI7_hZO9vVQCR7NGz76KLKXZ1xiHHOljGmbBANJBQVFaXFpRKFeIGSC_/s320/057.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8BTUuyqL1XOLNEK4wb6rPbhfm9ZRTu3FPBHqQMdUFwcvLTxsXpcLSnQAnr4RVO_kwa5AsRUFBSJ5vzR8gvwK0USCXEQxt-dYs4IFpiTvIr5FKnUiLGCo1-n9L7VjLoYyAQK07PZPFs4pn/s1600/058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8BTUuyqL1XOLNEK4wb6rPbhfm9ZRTu3FPBHqQMdUFwcvLTxsXpcLSnQAnr4RVO_kwa5AsRUFBSJ5vzR8gvwK0USCXEQxt-dYs4IFpiTvIr5FKnUiLGCo1-n9L7VjLoYyAQK07PZPFs4pn/s320/058.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
And the "after" shots:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFB9W74jF6k9Ht53cZTNV7koDfvYJn6JNeiOL_fp0sBsP9YhNgmEpxEvGq6xT0Di_Wg1IrNLGr6Vp6rKDZC6RQCL8-JhCshID6G3J-pEXoOayOBvzSY6We_TwBIJvO8VP3uhAMlH84rArI/s1600/059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFB9W74jF6k9Ht53cZTNV7koDfvYJn6JNeiOL_fp0sBsP9YhNgmEpxEvGq6xT0Di_Wg1IrNLGr6Vp6rKDZC6RQCL8-JhCshID6G3J-pEXoOayOBvzSY6We_TwBIJvO8VP3uhAMlH84rArI/s320/059.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBydWTjJ3mhi3z6mwiT1ispQ5MCOIQyHW-_8YDv4FmMHdSMH5DvNC8cKDNq1XRiN29hRCWDZF6RAI6Eq26p-VOv6W5yGQoMzCuVqAhB3XYsEGgRWXPYNx0nJD1AT4lfXFue7AT3d0hm5r/s1600/062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBydWTjJ3mhi3z6mwiT1ispQ5MCOIQyHW-_8YDv4FmMHdSMH5DvNC8cKDNq1XRiN29hRCWDZF6RAI6Eq26p-VOv6W5yGQoMzCuVqAhB3XYsEGgRWXPYNx0nJD1AT4lfXFue7AT3d0hm5r/s320/062.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>I think it turned out pretty well (considering I have NO idea what I'm doing). It turned out a little shorter than I planned so I was feeling terrible for a few hours, but now I'm over it. Now Ivy is complaining that she doesn't want to go out in public because everyone will say how cute her hair is! (And who wants that?!)Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-1650918991764093552011-08-29T12:38:00.000-06:002011-08-29T12:38:37.530-06:00'Cuz We're CousinsOliver is one lucky kid! He has two boy cousins born within months of him.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj09vfCXYX6aingtT9YB-4SOfY_oH6wvaxeP5ZqgvdIu7TAeOcrCf8RI5rOfKS22fk5EYQn_p4qFbQlyLor8khAkAGdwriv8JGJamkhFCy2aWRj2TeziSaSaUDKPzTAKasnsf66Z-2YzFJp/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj09vfCXYX6aingtT9YB-4SOfY_oH6wvaxeP5ZqgvdIu7TAeOcrCf8RI5rOfKS22fk5EYQn_p4qFbQlyLor8khAkAGdwriv8JGJamkhFCy2aWRj2TeziSaSaUDKPzTAKasnsf66Z-2YzFJp/s320/004.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mandie, Colter, Oliver, and Me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>My sister Mandie had her first baby back in June. And my sister-in-law Katie had her son back in May. (Oliver was born in March.) And I love that their names all end in "er". Oliver, Porter, Colter, so fun!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIwWguee5Fwk8gqq-G1auzAc7cJ0ToHDV3tY3_HpAtaR2Dmuo9xonqNnMkCx62rWjJ5YTz5886TmucCbQTHkDASp3C8Q5K_tr4i1-Uw5xfoAP3hzBDnaYRbgGz2CMWb3ma_miNmc2xUhI/s1600/030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIwWguee5Fwk8gqq-G1auzAc7cJ0ToHDV3tY3_HpAtaR2Dmuo9xonqNnMkCx62rWjJ5YTz5886TmucCbQTHkDASp3C8Q5K_tr4i1-Uw5xfoAP3hzBDnaYRbgGz2CMWb3ma_miNmc2xUhI/s320/030.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Oliver, Porter, Katie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Remember this picture of me and Katie? I wish I had one with me and Mandie, but neither of us were up to much traveling during our pregnancies and we were never together for a picture. :(<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1IUi26cWqTBrOoqISJMMRZXbOZQkn995bL-ZnbR8HCYeTnQvxiHY3ppNIgnt0C58354OWqH1v_5CssPQkvPT7ZjzANhq5wg6EIFss0Jr0E1dO-JYLnvQILTtiC67BYgzykSTey4L5VA4/s1600/098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1IUi26cWqTBrOoqISJMMRZXbOZQkn995bL-ZnbR8HCYeTnQvxiHY3ppNIgnt0C58354OWqH1v_5CssPQkvPT7ZjzANhq5wg6EIFss0Jr0E1dO-JYLnvQILTtiC67BYgzykSTey4L5VA4/s320/098.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-17290903350916489572011-08-22T09:17:00.000-06:002011-08-22T09:17:59.033-06:00Rock Star Birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSMr82SGOgcYlQ9ogyjs4rNuCN9jIF12DV6BaEU3J0Dsb-BcOOfBA8VotskqhtjUpK8PxUpPcsfrcy8oLQuw1kR3hEAeWrSz73I41_2bNjT_LwUJop2LcgYOP6RuGkjBvpRBwaC8Pxv73/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSMr82SGOgcYlQ9ogyjs4rNuCN9jIF12DV6BaEU3J0Dsb-BcOOfBA8VotskqhtjUpK8PxUpPcsfrcy8oLQuw1kR3hEAeWrSz73I41_2bNjT_LwUJop2LcgYOP6RuGkjBvpRBwaC8Pxv73/s320/027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I can hardly believe it, but my Millie is six years old (and has been for a month . . . I'm just a little behind on blogging about our summer). And to celebrate we had family over for a <em>rock star birthday party</em>. The invites (above) were supposed to resemble concert tickets (oh, how I wish I had photoshop . . . and knew how to use it). <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzKoCuKP28xeTjJliutp6cN2U8Xk2TXggme8fz8F3EVoiJxrnFfmfFq1vYyydSQSCqc0YEBtkqMJi1S7DUjZbb3CtlUarS4MS-eTdRztolQIMZGmNywLCjHrQ4l0HZfnqap98zir5HHYZ/s1600/051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzKoCuKP28xeTjJliutp6cN2U8Xk2TXggme8fz8F3EVoiJxrnFfmfFq1vYyydSQSCqc0YEBtkqMJi1S7DUjZbb3CtlUarS4MS-eTdRztolQIMZGmNywLCjHrQ4l0HZfnqap98zir5HHYZ/s320/051.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
The only children invited (two cousins) got sick right before the party! So the only guests were Millie's grandma and grandpa . . . but luckily she didn't mind. There was lots of dancing and singing. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhatuWHmVDei_jLUKJb8FYq-Y_7rEsVJWhLFP_Xtd0WUdcTTqZi-hA9WYGLJsrmXyJ9gQ5vOpIwbABvDJINdtoGTSWRVcOHjfr66Wxs427kSYZ7tgR8ecyGZ7ixCm5BsFzQYoxgJMQ0Pnx2/s1600/056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhatuWHmVDei_jLUKJb8FYq-Y_7rEsVJWhLFP_Xtd0WUdcTTqZi-hA9WYGLJsrmXyJ9gQ5vOpIwbABvDJINdtoGTSWRVcOHjfr66Wxs427kSYZ7tgR8ecyGZ7ixCm5BsFzQYoxgJMQ0Pnx2/s320/056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And Mark cut out these wooden "electric" guitars before the party and put them together at the party. The tops are paint sticks from the hardware store with rubber bands strung through grooves Mark cut at the top and bottom. Then everyone decorated their own and gave them names! Millie named her guitar "Rose", Ivy named hers "Islafina" (pronounced: eye-la-FEE-nah) and Millie's grandma named hers "Bob" (after Bob Dylan I think). Then we rocked out and sang karaoke.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRkVhrTN8aHWHF4fVqlAE74YcaMmwWxN9zlT6sOLVtFv7pfRv736Kb_Mp7tjW_3-YtzYsPF0oHYpEOvU9jEYxi-6HWZpminW_iVlAsXfEq0nBQGSonBC3yUzVPCDj2b4rZuY9YytSzha6p/s1600/066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRkVhrTN8aHWHF4fVqlAE74YcaMmwWxN9zlT6sOLVtFv7pfRv736Kb_Mp7tjW_3-YtzYsPF0oHYpEOvU9jEYxi-6HWZpminW_iVlAsXfEq0nBQGSonBC3yUzVPCDj2b4rZuY9YytSzha6p/s320/066.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Of course we had cake and ice cream and opened presents. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-Tg3-CKzAYtSxuvYsyxBe8DDw91nrRic6jDX4M5RhNQSqOm_43no5bRkZe4UHVMhvumJj_xXef_zzMQWi7ZCXm76CPGi40CdXTGarKQu27M0z6fJEd50WiIn0Uu20sHUIk2UVcyTnPfa/s1600/080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-Tg3-CKzAYtSxuvYsyxBe8DDw91nrRic6jDX4M5RhNQSqOm_43no5bRkZe4UHVMhvumJj_xXef_zzMQWi7ZCXm76CPGi40CdXTGarKQu27M0z6fJEd50WiIn0Uu20sHUIk2UVcyTnPfa/s320/080.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Millie didn't even mind that there were only two gifts since one included MAKE-UP! All her birthday dreams came true in that moment. Later we went out for dinner at the conclusion of which Millie told her daddy "This was my best birthday every!" Super cute.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqIG_jkgGIjIKVGgMVXMyxXuvSd9LSl-snlLVu2eEuA2o1QahKDZ72Ua9lTOAN2l0Rpl7ekyOB0IoWj1ExCqXtf9BCPurDIsxeQg_TO0oPkn0VtVB4_iThAapM-mp8T66Ah2MI9SyC0Do/s1600/096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqIG_jkgGIjIKVGgMVXMyxXuvSd9LSl-snlLVu2eEuA2o1QahKDZ72Ua9lTOAN2l0Rpl7ekyOB0IoWj1ExCqXtf9BCPurDIsxeQg_TO0oPkn0VtVB4_iThAapM-mp8T66Ah2MI9SyC0Do/s320/096.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
A few days later she received a gift from my mom. Lip gloss, press on nails and accessories and a hair clip. She looked every bit the glamour queen.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtes9IVIU0T_RAkzsp9-clDqVnq0Vac2sjo-JCIqhnRbXKT-0KeFNrzJAjHchGqlt_6cuOWBAsEXtk7_YNEZEhbHWNHCL3udCoE0CF-QXYDxL2AjJW_dJ7RmxsMNX2sgXZYkrxUmjMAz2F/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtes9IVIU0T_RAkzsp9-clDqVnq0Vac2sjo-JCIqhnRbXKT-0KeFNrzJAjHchGqlt_6cuOWBAsEXtk7_YNEZEhbHWNHCL3udCoE0CF-QXYDxL2AjJW_dJ7RmxsMNX2sgXZYkrxUmjMAz2F/s320/006.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Right after the party Mark's mom took Millie to the craft store to pick out a pattern and fabric for her gift (Millie's idea). The completed project is absolutely adorable (dress and matching purse). Sorry I don't have a better picture. I'll have to get one.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yp0mHifk4c9pSGbqbgUeaBNElc6lSShhSk3nV_pXgjJiuwxRZDo75QB7inp9K3TysmPTnFrUZDSwOUx2mNkhyAXpahEMlb1A_sJRktScZryFaMAq0g84NpJQ1PbcFj1ZzbBkoHQYkBo8/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yp0mHifk4c9pSGbqbgUeaBNElc6lSShhSk3nV_pXgjJiuwxRZDo75QB7inp9K3TysmPTnFrUZDSwOUx2mNkhyAXpahEMlb1A_sJRktScZryFaMAq0g84NpJQ1PbcFj1ZzbBkoHQYkBo8/s320/023.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Birthday Millie!</div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-72781848794924239652011-08-17T17:12:00.000-06:002011-08-17T17:12:41.429-06:00Bear Lake Summer 2011<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fMQ4CUd0gq7KMCmjIVELmBNZe4Uqslb_vZx_iX3eGwE8C5LasjZEwM5v78lMx-RVcnw963hWCjWvw5R30H8cF6KAwq8Nzilwhb-_y1BmPNX-Yw2Krbj2ZxjbqwmdKB3xSYD03NwnHgeD/s1600/026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fMQ4CUd0gq7KMCmjIVELmBNZe4Uqslb_vZx_iX3eGwE8C5LasjZEwM5v78lMx-RVcnw963hWCjWvw5R30H8cF6KAwq8Nzilwhb-_y1BmPNX-Yw2Krbj2ZxjbqwmdKB3xSYD03NwnHgeD/s320/026.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WR3cYyoIWSlSKg3Zh1OvjSdI4uyA6rjKdIxtQjXwAAutsdnsVxitDxmfUp4zZe1FwPjkAq5aXWd1LqNOjTXxAlygqS5oB9JIvOOG6EsWKNglWQ_PRGwpkqwT2lNUl8USbYhDNHs2JkDF/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WR3cYyoIWSlSKg3Zh1OvjSdI4uyA6rjKdIxtQjXwAAutsdnsVxitDxmfUp4zZe1FwPjkAq5aXWd1LqNOjTXxAlygqS5oB9JIvOOG6EsWKNglWQ_PRGwpkqwT2lNUl8USbYhDNHs2JkDF/s320/024.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpY2lHn41d6pP9hGTxTSuywkohfWZg0yyNIhWU1KFtZyeyBO_rf4Fuky7jNc-4DjtAHKkfsEWyiaHkpmkmeIorLFsffr7XoEr9xqmyeFyJjXaSkqg6E_DEUNXxGrFGY3EwP-FsHqbhylUG/s1600/042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpY2lHn41d6pP9hGTxTSuywkohfWZg0yyNIhWU1KFtZyeyBO_rf4Fuky7jNc-4DjtAHKkfsEWyiaHkpmkmeIorLFsffr7XoEr9xqmyeFyJjXaSkqg6E_DEUNXxGrFGY3EwP-FsHqbhylUG/s320/042.JPG" width="320" /></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/AVvXsEhi3hgvVlHmhX6CxTiJLnyb9TFCgbWNn6us2HPqjGd11G92VqEW-1JflcUNgYyuRcCacZA50urI7vNR57oB9DmFYBiiSPpBL95wbTyY_mL5tCBWRs3P7johoA2Uuh1onz7Y8UknUoDIllRP/s1600/048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi3hgvVlHmhX6CxTiJLnyb9TFCgbWNn6us2HPqjGd11G92VqEW-1JflcUNgYyuRcCacZA50urI7vNR57oB9DmFYBiiSPpBL95wbTyY_mL5tCBWRs3P7johoA2Uuh1onz7Y8UknUoDIllRP/s320/048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20hlG2AFHaMljcNEeo0R7K_R9_FYwGjmgbRqV4Sc7yjU1PbCPdSviHuGK0Uuu62SDL13AROGrAXjnf4k4OF7ALuZYRVVhGJUrbkVWzciH3KM3LDUGGjCAnMtHWsattI7gAtVUqIBi93gz/s1600/050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20hlG2AFHaMljcNEeo0R7K_R9_FYwGjmgbRqV4Sc7yjU1PbCPdSviHuGK0Uuu62SDL13AROGrAXjnf4k4OF7ALuZYRVVhGJUrbkVWzciH3KM3LDUGGjCAnMtHWsattI7gAtVUqIBi93gz/s320/050.JPG" width="320" /></a>The End.</div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-72592227316852290432011-06-27T18:41:00.000-06:002011-06-27T21:52:03.899-06:00I love cloth!<div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFuUPqTT0ePvJ1-xHYGNMe9lvODW7jiDi21C_iAdAMdT_rXzsjqbC0c48eYdwT_IErY1YGg58yA08rKUVwKcdj4hihnE384VMFq648_gCLEhyphenhyphenfrxoC0nrRawKSBgbACuJCbx-Kqlo6bHu/s1600/100.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620469045431278562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFuUPqTT0ePvJ1-xHYGNMe9lvODW7jiDi21C_iAdAMdT_rXzsjqbC0c48eYdwT_IErY1YGg58yA08rKUVwKcdj4hihnE384VMFq648_gCLEhyphenhyphenfrxoC0nrRawKSBgbACuJCbx-Kqlo6bHu/s320/100.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Who knew diapering could be fun? Yes, I know I'm crazy but I love knowing that my choice creates less of an environmental burden than disposable diapering and saves us loads of money (between $1,000 and $2,000!!!). They really are not as difficult or icky as some might imagine. There's no pinning, no soaking and no need to shake anything out in the toilet. I also love this make-shift clothesline Mark put together for me. The sun truly is the best disinfectant! The diapers come off the line spotless and completely non-toxic (no chlorine bleach for my family thank you). Using the clothesline reminds me of my Grandma Nora and makes me look to simpler times when people weren't too busy to appreciate the little things in life. </div><div></div><div></div><div>Oh, and did I mention how cute the diaper covers are? And the cute <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">onesie</span> and burp cloth were a gift from Mark's talented sister Julia. I love the elephant.<br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKEWlY64nGej2OxQxGRpGNclj4RguQ0WVW1IrxHUWNbAp-kuRIo-hEUgZVAN4bleRaK8o_gv9pAFAQy0GDmHkrqlIK4rQsNs1Z2BhtWmOlPtPgjliABOa4rLTp5kM_LiU8vmGDvGQaM0D/s1600/032.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620469038202761458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKEWlY64nGej2OxQxGRpGNclj4RguQ0WVW1IrxHUWNbAp-kuRIo-hEUgZVAN4bleRaK8o_gv9pAFAQy0GDmHkrqlIK4rQsNs1Z2BhtWmOlPtPgjliABOa4rLTp5kM_LiU8vmGDvGQaM0D/s320/032.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div>I don't know what's come over me but I am just enjoying motherhood so much more these days. I guess I am finally starting to grasp how precious this time is with my children and that doing what's best for them is truly worth any amount of extra effort on my part.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vjfuy0O9M3bdTGOSsCOyaWIxmjCeEDyQX_tyFA0AMfGUtke8OYnmwRwaxsKfgT3OCwN_rMfOWosOhRON45yG1kX-IH8WesBLtjYbNpvNZB5mLLwKWNLRKrstTtbGbNK1CEUvsoOh2Ip0/s1600/075.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620469032502562546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vjfuy0O9M3bdTGOSsCOyaWIxmjCeEDyQX_tyFA0AMfGUtke8OYnmwRwaxsKfgT3OCwN_rMfOWosOhRON45yG1kX-IH8WesBLtjYbNpvNZB5mLLwKWNLRKrstTtbGbNK1CEUvsoOh2Ip0/s320/075.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a></div><div></div><div>Which is why we are also practicing <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natural_infant_hygiene">natural infant hygiene</a> (frequently <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">referred</span> to as elimination communication or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ECing</span>). I am just in awe of how intelligent little babies are! Even if our culture tells us otherwise.<br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NqarqBK4MbOyWp0Z073Lr8ejC2F7Df51-FY42flfNd1I9sz47GiUSyJONnj5src0iKq_WDMpc_pK1X4KObocxVktFX5sAVEyAXxiB4VQdxxA68D9UCFGi5T2v2lbkpCIeeUn7A5xJBj4/s1600/072.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620469023809872610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NqarqBK4MbOyWp0Z073Lr8ejC2F7Df51-FY42flfNd1I9sz47GiUSyJONnj5src0iKq_WDMpc_pK1X4KObocxVktFX5sAVEyAXxiB4VQdxxA68D9UCFGi5T2v2lbkpCIeeUn7A5xJBj4/s320/072.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a></div><div></div><div>I look horrible here (right after a workout) but this picture just reminds me how special it feels to share this experience with my baby. I only wish I would have started earlier . . . like six years earlier!<br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyibPLTFQXJi-gBJ-8V83S699QwAFVEq_O2oVEMBkrVL6n6klS_jFbz_HV_YXmWqfwrxM0sgrhho9TjqkY5bqQYdr5pWVPgGsmU3b07e8bp3XcfqHDDKrp_D5I798q3-csjZvHTUZgRzL7/s1600/082.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620469013419605266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyibPLTFQXJi-gBJ-8V83S699QwAFVEq_O2oVEMBkrVL6n6klS_jFbz_HV_YXmWqfwrxM0sgrhho9TjqkY5bqQYdr5pWVPgGsmU3b07e8bp3XcfqHDDKrp_D5I798q3-csjZvHTUZgRzL7/s320/082.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-6608809254736696182011-06-23T21:11:00.000-06:002011-06-27T21:37:16.584-06:00Mommy's Charms<div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdDSlXtfTSEPYXxj0Zsnq2P2Y17gwP7WRxqS6f4PoedwZla0koBDN2XIXxwI6RkttO8ux-eOEHVykaUe_YyZ_rUgW6KhKYK9WjiHlP4YErSQtqMKGAcVjbXiFAnG9xLpTT8Uo32PHYXDq/s1600/065.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620465674559323154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdDSlXtfTSEPYXxj0Zsnq2P2Y17gwP7WRxqS6f4PoedwZla0koBDN2XIXxwI6RkttO8ux-eOEHVykaUe_YyZ_rUgW6KhKYK9WjiHlP4YErSQtqMKGAcVjbXiFAnG9xLpTT8Uo32PHYXDq/s320/065.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfl-fWk5gA2XktHwaBFRce2WW2nTn8IdLGMKY2aRMOEhgpM_FZEkTqTa8-cso6s0o_Ruu8bcaG-QJ_4LikTcI7ecdHv92bMjCTzRGd6lb4p3jSDvTK3q463o3CUhswaViKql5qCeEp1Yhc/s1600/042.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620465666710737666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfl-fWk5gA2XktHwaBFRce2WW2nTn8IdLGMKY2aRMOEhgpM_FZEkTqTa8-cso6s0o_Ruu8bcaG-QJ_4LikTcI7ecdHv92bMjCTzRGd6lb4p3jSDvTK3q463o3CUhswaViKql5qCeEp1Yhc/s320/042.JPG" /></a></div></div></div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-59593530039487926272011-06-21T10:30:00.000-06:002011-06-22T19:52:13.333-06:00The Wheels on the Bus<div><div>Millie and Ivy have been begging to ride on a train of late, but they settled for an LTD bus ride instead. </div><div> </div><div>We caught the bus Saturday morning and rode out to <a href="http://www.rockhillcheese.com/index.html">Rockhill Creamery</a> in Richmond. It was a long ride, but we all enjoyed the experience.<br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMC205D573Xm19qVKrffWO82y9R5hXYvDq9fXCS-nzBsg3GiSV6ikTqfDNpBTj_y58Ny8fxBeItKKmnqtYBVnk9s_IAbwMOhLUihHiT97-ZGalDauiII_5q0cIuequPRHyZ3j7prgBYun/s1600/106.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620453610444850274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMC205D573Xm19qVKrffWO82y9R5hXYvDq9fXCS-nzBsg3GiSV6ikTqfDNpBTj_y58Ny8fxBeItKKmnqtYBVnk9s_IAbwMOhLUihHiT97-ZGalDauiII_5q0cIuequPRHyZ3j7prgBYun/s320/106.JPG" /></a></div><div> </div><div>Luckily it was a nice sunny morning at the bus station.<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6cyayS4Xg__aNDfxy7fiqD7RAHn2CSEOA6OTUDmm6tZLtMWumBS8V7pP-Y6cFfSGTOzDIxgMs5prJVXut1u2sG0N0OBGY2pUMTXhLPY-Fm7ZzzNzyBKG1VsjlekQDCfYX9gTqXsxXGnt/s1600/107.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620453602643841794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6cyayS4Xg__aNDfxy7fiqD7RAHn2CSEOA6OTUDmm6tZLtMWumBS8V7pP-Y6cFfSGTOzDIxgMs5prJVXut1u2sG0N0OBGY2pUMTXhLPY-Fm7ZzzNzyBKG1VsjlekQDCfYX9gTqXsxXGnt/s320/107.JPG" /></a></div><div> </div><div>On the bus Ivy couldn't believe there weren't any seat belts! And it was quite a long, bumpy ride. And yes, we did sing a verse or two of "The Wheels on the Bus".<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJQeKBDhBzTINdXiB0H_pi2L8a9hXgaEsewjkKRUIrxD0CZ6H5G38blrKbcncc3dsbsgm0RgF4th0x-2jM9nnhN21JHtcYmEEr83ZHVhhaV5SyMWphkDTQaBzEGC1U6XCVcF2iPkHbrtg/s1600/108.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620452684417413330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJQeKBDhBzTINdXiB0H_pi2L8a9hXgaEsewjkKRUIrxD0CZ6H5G38blrKbcncc3dsbsgm0RgF4th0x-2jM9nnhN21JHtcYmEEr83ZHVhhaV5SyMWphkDTQaBzEGC1U6XCVcF2iPkHbrtg/s320/108.JPG" /></a></div><div> </div><div>We missed our stop in Richmond and ended up walking back from the next one, but no one complained (amazingly enough). Once there, we took a little tour of the farm and Millie fell in love with this Brown Swiss calf. She wanted to name him or her "Goldie". She also fell in love with two small dogs there, but they kept their distance from her loving attention.<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5lmcnjUo-QOd3jRTLYMicscfLmaBrUwvDS4xnZ3tPIH8Ey7bZsvKz6mTGfahXHb3WQANwNtHmmKy9174GuJ0i1s-xpPBo6X96sLCLTzg1wKbilB2dcGE-Fe0uvUJ5oDWNk2mHGt9ee8cW/s1600/116.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620452677552489410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5lmcnjUo-QOd3jRTLYMicscfLmaBrUwvDS4xnZ3tPIH8Ey7bZsvKz6mTGfahXHb3WQANwNtHmmKy9174GuJ0i1s-xpPBo6X96sLCLTzg1wKbilB2dcGE-Fe0uvUJ5oDWNk2mHGt9ee8cW/s320/116.JPG" /></a></div><div> </div><div>Ivy on the other hand, was less than thrilled about all the animals and wanted her daddy to protect her.<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSFeU3LkczJMoU5zka_tqrsSiy8Ojiwu4zvI916tlI0B2BXRms0Up-OKCj4ucxLUjsyHS6RTv1R8vBkgzjIZsXXi_pSF3NWTDYX3QhxyJnSIY6ob-AsZuCtMjt_h2j-7zpRqhGs6QB6_L/s1600/117.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620452667958230418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSFeU3LkczJMoU5zka_tqrsSiy8Ojiwu4zvI916tlI0B2BXRms0Up-OKCj4ucxLUjsyHS6RTv1R8vBkgzjIZsXXi_pSF3NWTDYX3QhxyJnSIY6ob-AsZuCtMjt_h2j-7zpRqhGs6QB6_L/s320/117.JPG" /></a></div><div> </div><div>And Oliver napped through all the excitement.<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjzW4nIxrr_xrRuaXTJzKORgB6chy-_qDtuR1CEC2t9oSL34QpioGXTBsD5qL47Pe0a5Cl7_t7Nl0avqtE9oLlNSMzyAYPTmp_qfJcWJyKHCuKJB1MD-oYOdWUpl4OI24ZYSRdim-dSx5/s1600/119.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620452662199202946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjzW4nIxrr_xrRuaXTJzKORgB6chy-_qDtuR1CEC2t9oSL34QpioGXTBsD5qL47Pe0a5Cl7_t7Nl0avqtE9oLlNSMzyAYPTmp_qfJcWJyKHCuKJB1MD-oYOdWUpl4OI24ZYSRdim-dSx5/s320/119.JPG" /></a></div><div> </div><div>For lunch we headed to the farmstand for bread (from Crumb Brothers) and cheese from the creamery. Then we caught the bus back to Logan. And after a break at home we rallied for a visit to Summerfest for dinner and dessert (Forbidden Fruit caramel apples. Yum!). The perfect ending to a great Saturday.<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasjQM3RvtLyA39caiQXy68Z7LPElbh8AeZ3QyaCDMv3XYMfqURxi_5ihz0L2iI_OTD7KcIQyG9n6Ca0GjIVKOzTdNT_0PJBfoUbvIR2GYrpKRcp7gN3hC8NnWmbDF_j-I9UarLpWau1XU/s1600/122.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620452651788995842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasjQM3RvtLyA39caiQXy68Z7LPElbh8AeZ3QyaCDMv3XYMfqURxi_5ihz0L2iI_OTD7KcIQyG9n6Ca0GjIVKOzTdNT_0PJBfoUbvIR2GYrpKRcp7gN3hC8NnWmbDF_j-I9UarLpWau1XU/s320/122.JPG" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-61462486261189329742011-06-04T21:09:00.006-06:002011-06-04T21:28:27.882-06:00Meet Cocoa<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6gvK0knQgnbAMIGOR2Jv_Lk5iKY4J_ytDEE0QapI2zUvlxSiEbeXQ6Oq2VYwsh5S2c8_zZE3rN5BYLUJ7rxVlf3IjSQ_VclXdKHdjPffTMqyNo4O5gi9FFlUcUh7CONWA9xm01TzYdijI/s1600/028.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614569667418402770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6gvK0knQgnbAMIGOR2Jv_Lk5iKY4J_ytDEE0QapI2zUvlxSiEbeXQ6Oq2VYwsh5S2c8_zZE3rN5BYLUJ7rxVlf3IjSQ_VclXdKHdjPffTMqyNo4O5gi9FFlUcUh7CONWA9xm01TzYdijI/s320/028.JPG" /></a><br />My children don't have security blankets, instead they have security bear rugs (weird, right?) Anyway, Millie received "Smoochie" as a baby gift and she loved it so much that we got . . .<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizty_GkDt8_pOiTjOwyFbHMO5qPVmKfz7saU6zdPPje5A5qGEmtTYoBgKB6wH5jggwg9n40d4vAAfgCrt5aiz8Edllzr8DA-4d__0bEXfJnX8LhApiNX-D7BAZVzBRgjL9W9soUiPbpOhO/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614569194513964674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizty_GkDt8_pOiTjOwyFbHMO5qPVmKfz7saU6zdPPje5A5qGEmtTYoBgKB6wH5jggwg9n40d4vAAfgCrt5aiz8Edllzr8DA-4d__0bEXfJnX8LhApiNX-D7BAZVzBRgjL9W9soUiPbpOhO/s320/IMG_0001.jpg" /></a><br />"Snowflake" for Ivy, who she later re-named "Snow Snow"<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgr3koxWuxzaJjJIjjcxUgIN6rWZ-NwQXofo3AygGKVJVJdknM7nltoCaX9p4okVpIYo7tW0PrYiUCaSPgJUDaflqI2cvRvUf3EWPzuGzF_tKCXf510MfK8wRVnbV7x9DHHHnni2CbXSlX/s1600/IMG.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 215px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614568984193258706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgr3koxWuxzaJjJIjjcxUgIN6rWZ-NwQXofo3AygGKVJVJdknM7nltoCaX9p4okVpIYo7tW0PrYiUCaSPgJUDaflqI2cvRvUf3EWPzuGzF_tKCXf510MfK8wRVnbV7x9DHHHnni2CbXSlX/s320/IMG.jpg" /></a><br />And now Oliver has his very own "Cocoa".<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1YQGPWiXHL-yby4v70Xnraz-n1tYwleXmebaostNCyr8exCdeCRXAGXoHCkxqiix86NUmFdhwM2058X5oVzRAVuNFxlVYrZbRtoMrKw2quRzOC7GBGSXNg_I5w3gxT-X0yLly4wzEnjea/s1600/026.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614568441606556594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1YQGPWiXHL-yby4v70Xnraz-n1tYwleXmebaostNCyr8exCdeCRXAGXoHCkxqiix86NUmFdhwM2058X5oVzRAVuNFxlVYrZbRtoMrKw2quRzOC7GBGSXNg_I5w3gxT-X0yLly4wzEnjea/s320/026.JPG" /></a><br />Cocoa's a bit bigger than his predecessors but at least that way it's a very manly security bear rug.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU7m5i2MRRRcikWt0h7GpjhowGl2f3eEZlJ-0uUvC5JQHfP2k2OIAHPQVBtk9j191N458dTNV95p5XaWs6jJXvuJrpGeXodRFRYZb3J-NmvzfmcYEMMRx5CMWcm2l8ncC32B8e59HcKlO_/s1600/023.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614568014720671042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU7m5i2MRRRcikWt0h7GpjhowGl2f3eEZlJ-0uUvC5JQHfP2k2OIAHPQVBtk9j191N458dTNV95p5XaWs6jJXvuJrpGeXodRFRYZb3J-NmvzfmcYEMMRx5CMWcm2l8ncC32B8e59HcKlO_/s320/023.JPG" /></a> </div></div></div></div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-24793160039494321082011-04-06T18:56:00.003-06:002011-04-06T19:23:46.472-06:00Baby BlessingWe blessed Oliver in church the Sunday before General Conference. I specifically charged my camera battery for the occasion and then promptly forgot it the next day. So all my pictures are from my mom. Thanks mom! It was a nice day. Mark gave a nice blessing and we enjoyed seeing everyone. The worst part (other than the lack of camera) was that I had a bad headache for most of the day. Blah. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4kSdx0BTBiRVtl5B4sYmjqgiYKVsU6ypxolaSi-p34PtdxHi3-X0EWjRv_djtvAevByvp6PTwDHGRrpdrMKfUrh1hyphenhyphenbXsRSwYHmIbADfB9_ptYQZ1ZRou2bzUwOe-n2pZLgevvY4aMhf/s1600/100_7952.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592639763801720642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4kSdx0BTBiRVtl5B4sYmjqgiYKVsU6ypxolaSi-p34PtdxHi3-X0EWjRv_djtvAevByvp6PTwDHGRrpdrMKfUrh1hyphenhyphenbXsRSwYHmIbADfB9_ptYQZ1ZRou2bzUwOe-n2pZLgevvY4aMhf/s320/100_7952.JPG" /></a> Most of my family made it up Saturday night. One of my sisters told the girls she would come do their hair and paint their nails for church. My family spent the night at a motel and the next morning Ivy and Millie woke up very early asking for Aunt Ariel and Deanna ad nauseam. (They seriously asked every 10 minutes!) Once my family finally made it over to our place there wasn't enough time for hair styling but the girls did get their nails painted. <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbb-Vub4MK9lRCI6UODPHePEXrwTilccawYoC5D5G5KWpjOpzxsKkpJizNAFfCVPZmwzlEz-cQtafgv2g5Q4EZzs7c_3SAe80l2u0gmJjw-3BydayL9KmxnfGIELFt6CAtZoXQRq0pYX1/s1600/100_7936.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592639756767469938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbb-Vub4MK9lRCI6UODPHePEXrwTilccawYoC5D5G5KWpjOpzxsKkpJizNAFfCVPZmwzlEz-cQtafgv2g5Q4EZzs7c_3SAe80l2u0gmJjw-3BydayL9KmxnfGIELFt6CAtZoXQRq0pYX1/s320/100_7936.JPG" /></a> </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Oliver had a good day. Here he is fresh from his sponge bath, still shiny from the coconut oil I put on his face. <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglym7aqirTRMQHP6yAEvSMsNgncLawnez5XvwxCL3hmwqEO1JQZ4nNOhUE6q9w4mxuin9A2XArvOnM2N-2HpbLIWDkVhNmnd3kAJV6uvE3Tock8GdWsVHMFvbKbWY6KpfcgDZAFp2jL9st/s1600/100_7931.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592639753033276370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglym7aqirTRMQHP6yAEvSMsNgncLawnez5XvwxCL3hmwqEO1JQZ4nNOhUE6q9w4mxuin9A2XArvOnM2N-2HpbLIWDkVhNmnd3kAJV6uvE3Tock8GdWsVHMFvbKbWY6KpfcgDZAFp2jL9st/s320/100_7931.JPG" /></a> </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Here's a better look at his blessing outfit that I picked up on clearance at the BabyGap in Las Vegas back in January. It's a good thing we didn't wait until May to bless him or else I would have had to find something else for him to wear in a bigger size! <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbUu2zjpJT6CfR6-V2lFyRmIbp1USSyZRwi3B84uIu0bXFZPX8vDP1W5EmojfgUibhUmWrIHthWYA8Z_hC5hVzPORJZYEYGYqWq5j7V9dL5Y6QF_v7WKjcM3lQMbFJdx5RYgZQpLcLz7y/s1600/100_7930.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592639749336505426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbUu2zjpJT6CfR6-V2lFyRmIbp1USSyZRwi3B84uIu0bXFZPX8vDP1W5EmojfgUibhUmWrIHthWYA8Z_hC5hVzPORJZYEYGYqWq5j7V9dL5Y6QF_v7WKjcM3lQMbFJdx5RYgZQpLcLz7y/s320/100_7930.JPG" /></a> I wish I had more pictures of those who came and the food etc. but I don't, so that's all.</div></div></div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-34072626320480369302011-03-10T19:31:00.003-07:002011-03-10T22:08:38.146-07:00Home BirthI understand that home birth is a controversial topic. As Americans we have the widely held belief that childbirth is extremely dangerous and that medical doctors are the only ones qualified to deliver babies. Beliefs doctors hold and are all too happy to have us believe (their livelihoods depend upon it).<br /><em>"The obstetric tale goes like this: Birth is a risky business. Up to the early 1900's, many women and babies died in childbirth. Then doctors took over maternity care from ill-trained and ignorant midwives, and childbirth moved into the hospital. As a result, maternal and infant death rates plummeted, and today almost everybody lives healthily and happily ever after thanks to the skills of obstetricians and the superior resources available in hospitals.</em><br /><em>The only problem with this story is it isn't true.</em><br /><em>First, death rates did not decline as birth began to move into the hospital and under the control of physicians. They rose. In the 1920s in the United States, middle-class women began having babies in hospitals with physician attendants. By the mid-1920s, half of urban births took place there, and by 1939, half of all women and three-quarters of urban women, gave birth in hospitals. In 1915, prior to the major changeover, 60 mothers died per 10,000 births. Despite the shift, the 1932 U.S. maternal mortality rate reached 63 deaths per 10,000 births, and in cities, where hospitalization for birth was more common, it stood at 74 deaths per 10,000 births, substantially worse than the overall rate. Meanwhile, between 1915 and 1929, as the shift in birth site and attendant occurred, infant deaths from birth injuries increased by 40 to 50 percent. </em><br /><em>Maternal mortality in the United States did not begin to fall until the late 1930s . . . Many factors contributed to reducing maternal deaths, including better living conditions and nutrition, child spacing, and the development of blood transfusions, but moving birth into the hospital and under doctor control was not one of them.</em><br /><em>In fact, several studies suggest that the doctor takeover and institutionalization of birth actually retarded improvements in mortality rates." - Excerpt from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thinking-Womans-Guide-Better-Birth/dp/0399525173/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1299818671&sr=1-2">"The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth"</a></em><br />And these are just a <strong>few</strong> of the statistic. We live in a country where women spend more time researching what kind of a camera to buy, than they do researching where and how to give birth. So after two heavily medicated hospital births I finally got around to doing my research and was compelled to do things differently, for my safety and that of my baby. And in the event of a legitimate emergency I willingly would have went to the hospital. That's what hospitals are for: medical emergencies. Birth however is a natural process, not a medical emergency! Sure you hear home birth horror stories, but I have heard far more hospital horror stories and they are usually caused by some hospital intervention meant to prevent something horrific -- very ironic. And yes, true emergencies do occasionally occur, but far less often than you'd think and sadly most of them could be prevented with the right know-how. Knowledge that is being lost because medical doctors don't learn the information in medical school.<br />So call me crazy, but until you've actually read the facts you're likely to fall victim to the plethora of misinformation out there as I did (twice!).<br />Knowledge is power so do your homework. And don't assume that just because "everybody is doing it" makes it your best option. And try not to judge others (as I used to) until you have ALL the FACTS.<br /><br />A few resources to start with:<br />Watch: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_22?url=search-alias%3Ddvd&field-keywords=business+of+being+born&sprefix=business+of+being+born">"The Business of Being Born"</a> (I've heard you can view it for free on <a href="http://www.netflix.com/">Netflix</a>.)<br />Read: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thinking-Womans-Guide-Better-Birth/dp/0399525173/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1299818671&sr=1-2">"The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth" by Henci Goer</a><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_29?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=ina+may%27s+guide+to+childbirth&sprefix=ina+may%27s+guide+to+childbirth">"Ina May's Guide to Childbirth" by Ina May Gaskin</a>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-40739087640632289552011-03-07T21:56:00.019-07:002011-10-18T08:16:20.836-06:00The play-by-play<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJi8ErDZgRRLGG4UwqQi6XNZ2BbltiWmk2ughwMFscJYEOFK_E5srhjeueRx4XYccHtztnlnJ65C0GNYCAoANVgzCUNXVyVoM_K_6dWv5RrdoVMUtUAHehyZcg_O8NW4Ma6dxEIkWtuJnU/s1600/005.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581582487030733586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJi8ErDZgRRLGG4UwqQi6XNZ2BbltiWmk2ughwMFscJYEOFK_E5srhjeueRx4XYccHtztnlnJ65C0GNYCAoANVgzCUNXVyVoM_K_6dWv5RrdoVMUtUAHehyZcg_O8NW4Ma6dxEIkWtuJnU/s400/005.JPG" style="display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a> <br />
I can hardly believe my little Oliver will be a week old tomorrow. He is the sweetest little baby and I am enjoying every minute with him. Anyway, I promised more details on the birth so here is the play-by-play:<br />
<br />
Last Tuesday morning I woke up with some stronger-than-your-usual-Braxton-Hicks-contractions. But I didn't think much of them until I had a bought of diarrhea (a sign of impending labor) so I started washing the dishes and cleaning up. I even told my girls that maybe they'd meet their brother in the next day or two. I don't know why I told them that, because at the moment I really didn't think he would come so soon. I wasn't due for 12 more days. Then around 10:30 a.m. I lost my mucus plug and got a little giddy at the idea of having my baby soon, since when I lost it with my first pregnancy I went into labor the next day. So I called Mark and I called my mom just to give them a heads up that things might start happening in the next day or so. At 11:30 a.m. I met with my midwife, Chris, and told her about losing my plug, but she didn't seem too impressed since she'd seen women lose it as early as 6 weeks before delivery. She did, however, check her schedule for the next day to see how many appointments she would have to cancel in the event that I did go into labor. I kept telling myself that it might not happen right away, but I still wanted to be prepared in case it did. So after leaving my appointment I took Millie and Ivy to the grocery store and stocked up on some food. Then I went home and did laundry and some more cleaning. My mom was sure I was going to go into labor and wanted to come up, but I kept putting her off because I didn't want her to make such a long trip for a false alarm. After assuring her I was not in labor, I started noticing some mild contractions and decided to ask Chris to come and check me for dilation. She came around 5 p.m. and said I was around 1.5 or 2 cm. but still really "thick" and that the baby's head was not well applied. But since I never dilate much (if any) in advance, I still couldn't rule out the possibility that I was in early labor. Chris suggested I write down the contractions and see if there was any regularity to them. Meanwhile, she would be across the valley with a laboring woman in Hyde Park. <br />
<br />
So during dinner (eggplant parmigiana cook by my sweet husband and of which he informs me I ate quite a lot) I had Mark keep track of contractions, which were not regular but were getting increasingly more painful during the meal. When I told Mark that they were starting to hurt he half-jokingly said, "You're going to scream." After that my memory goes a little fuzzy. I was indeed in labor! At some point (mom's phone says 7:23 p.m.) I called my mom and told her to start driving and had my in-laws come and take the girls. Then I had Mark get to work on getting the birthing pool ready. But I was hesitant to call Chris because I knew she was busy. When I finally decided to call her around 7:30 p.m. her student/assistant, Robyn, answered the phone and told me that the baby there was being born at the moment and that Chris would have to call me back. When she did call back it was between contractions and I was super pleasant. So when I told her that my contractions were 1.5 minutes apart and lasting 1 minute, I don't know if she really believed me. But when Mark called her back 8 minutes later (at 8:15 p.m.) to report that my water had just broken, that got her attention. At which point she asked Mark if he was ready to catch. He laughed and said, "I have my glove ready."<br />
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OK, so some of you might be freaking out by this point in the story, but just so you know, neither Mark nor I were the least bit worried. The empty house felt very peaceful and Mark even said that he had always kind of imagined it as being just the two of us. And I was just focusing on staying . . . well . . . focused. <br />
<br />
At the beginning of each contraction I would mentally ask myself, "Is it OK that I'm having this?" I would reassure myself that it was with a, "Yes" and then let my body go limp so the contraction could do its job. Then I would engage in a number of soothing activities including counting and visualizing quick progression. I could literally feel when I dilated (it felt like tingles or pin pricks on the cervix). Although the contractions were intense I knew that the "pain" was doing something good and was not actually injuring me so there was no reason to be afraid.<br />
<br />
I think it's funny to note that between contractions I was busy trimming my toe and fingernails in the likely event that it would be a long time before I was able to get around to it after the baby was born. I even insisted on taking a shower so I could shave. Perhaps that was more of the nesting instinct kicking in to make sure I was ready when baby arrived. Haha.<br />
<br />
At any rate the pool finally got full enough for me to get in. It was pretty hot (since we had anticipated it losing heat as it sat there but I needed it sooner than expected!) but it still felt good and helped with the contractions. I labored in there for 10 minutes at which point the baby's head started to crown. After that contraction it was the strangest thing to reach down and be surprised to feel the top of my baby's head. While we waited for the next contraction we heard Chris pull up in the driveway and were relieved she let herself in the house. We really would have been fine delivering without her (and knew she was on her way) but I was glad she made it in time. And 5 minutes later our little Oliver was born. Mark caught him as he came out and lifted him out of the water then handed him to Chris as I moved from kneeling to sitting. Then Chris handed my baby to me and instructed me to rub his back and talk to him to get him to breathe. I said, "Hi Honey. We made it!" Moments later he let out the saddest cry and Chris called for the time of birth; 8:37 p.m. Mark dimmed the lights as I continued to sit and fall in love with my baby. Mark called to share the good news with our parents and with Millie and Ivy who had only been gone long enough to watch one movie at Grandma and Grandpa's house. I stayed in the water and waited for the umbilical cord to stop pulsing while Chris worked to cool me down with a cold wet towel, since I was turning red from the heat of the water. When the pulse stopped Chris clamped the cord and Mark cut it. Then Mark held Oliver as Chris helped me out of the pool, dried me off and got me into bed. Then in just a short time we had Oliver nursing which was the greatest thing since both my girls had a very difficult time with that in the beginning, but Oliver has been so good.<br />
I felt a little rushed through the whole experience since it went so fast (only 3 hours of noticeable labor). But it was an amazing experience that I will cherish forever. And there was no screaming, swearing, or crying; just a lot of moaning and some grunting. All my preparations paid off and I had my very first conscious, fearless, drugless delivery. And it's all on tape if you don't believe me. :)Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-43272545061142181902011-03-03T20:19:00.003-07:002011-03-03T20:24:47.174-07:00He's Here!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTjUshJXhiLlzDCJ20KNArgehcC-w3tvaeAKsEz2IdVvY0LpFRCpKm5CvauoUqifGgDKELQ0LsCei4pYlGTf9m2Gc3JMNu5BKvahkV0_1m19DEQMbaRKV7rwk8CHD-Zz4JungdUjhuKW2/s1600/167.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580059602892736130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTjUshJXhiLlzDCJ20KNArgehcC-w3tvaeAKsEz2IdVvY0LpFRCpKm5CvauoUqifGgDKELQ0LsCei4pYlGTf9m2Gc3JMNu5BKvahkV0_1m19DEQMbaRKV7rwk8CHD-Zz4JungdUjhuKW2/s400/167.JPG" /></a> Oliver Mark Weston joined our family Tuesday night, March 1 weighing 8 lbs. 14 oz. and measuring 21.5 inches long. Both mom and baby are doing well. More on the birth to come.<br /><div></div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-33544067315315906082011-02-15T19:30:00.004-07:002011-02-15T19:43:17.145-07:00Huge<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAm1lQAQlPGBwF9GgEYKcpZcK_erhkECIvk_FMYmNm4ixQyW8obxoaCE6n20zQwPy7VDw-ymUN9Yt_ZGBDL18C-4VeZ8CVG7acLrgApT82ohDTEji-8yZ21gjVpHZ2tC80aDmi5JdLSczL/s1600/094.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574109957027806786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAm1lQAQlPGBwF9GgEYKcpZcK_erhkECIvk_FMYmNm4ixQyW8obxoaCE6n20zQwPy7VDw-ymUN9Yt_ZGBDL18C-4VeZ8CVG7acLrgApT82ohDTEji-8yZ21gjVpHZ2tC80aDmi5JdLSczL/s400/094.JPG" /></a> Wow, it's been a long time since I've posted. I guess I've just been too busy growing a belly to do much else. Now I'm finally down to the last 4 weeks or so and I hope it goes by quickly. Doing a 5-point turn just to roll over in bed, is getting pretty old.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhBXTnYc19Ux0XXlvKgnlhF0fUheDsXbLalCA9WYOwJFLCe-qYP5b9b0Vy6pE-8wOGrAEsqRyoOsDNqQVnl1bSJJRPj4zibokWnoRiX2jcvE-zzdPHEjdHbk5fxixuJQzE10aXAzQn2x06/s1600/090.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574109942500827266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhBXTnYc19Ux0XXlvKgnlhF0fUheDsXbLalCA9WYOwJFLCe-qYP5b9b0Vy6pE-8wOGrAEsqRyoOsDNqQVnl1bSJJRPj4zibokWnoRiX2jcvE-zzdPHEjdHbk5fxixuJQzE10aXAzQn2x06/s400/090.JPG" /></a> I am positive that I am bigger in person.</div><div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheQ1W5c9gaRjfmCcOCH7i5eqscXRHMwPvbezjdoBRB64EE6riy6FbLe-Zhae37HsqTjdCGabU-QTb7l5tPvsLLoNUCUc5MHQdISNdfY1B0bYfc1LVNgMaTE8xbMSPLV-vRYUL3N9ASAD9Y/s1600/098.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574109923445896066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheQ1W5c9gaRjfmCcOCH7i5eqscXRHMwPvbezjdoBRB64EE6riy6FbLe-Zhae37HsqTjdCGabU-QTb7l5tPvsLLoNUCUc5MHQdISNdfY1B0bYfc1LVNgMaTE8xbMSPLV-vRYUL3N9ASAD9Y/s400/098.JPG" /></a> It's been fun to have a friend who understands how uncomfortable I am. My sister-in-law is also expecting her first son (after two girls) 6 weeks after I'm due. Hopefully our boys don't get into too much trouble together. <div></div></div></div>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-45225898179204921522010-10-25T15:52:00.004-06:002010-10-25T16:09:50.101-06:00It's a . . .Baby! In case you haven't heard: we're expecting baby No. 3 at the Weston residence and today I had my 20-week ultrasound. Everything looked great, so I'm very happy about that.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBD9UPCyDGjMp5yDYcg2uENrhIZnEzAhfAj-GSkuRv6tmSWUIdM4HPY7FEKlsLFf0WTDjd0cHUu8kBIiJLrjh5xYhOrycd_bvLEAHIgsF_-KO0pTwLrQkg6pywdxKkDvxXrqtFAUYCMQa0/s1600/WESTONTAMBERM20101025104545476.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBD9UPCyDGjMp5yDYcg2uENrhIZnEzAhfAj-GSkuRv6tmSWUIdM4HPY7FEKlsLFf0WTDjd0cHUu8kBIiJLrjh5xYhOrycd_bvLEAHIgsF_-KO0pTwLrQkg6pywdxKkDvxXrqtFAUYCMQa0/s400/WESTONTAMBERM20101025104545476.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532106571355490130" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Here's a great shot of the gender. Check the next photo if you're still confused.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYxnzQnay1dXLGXAIlnJlQPS-B1j1RNVKHZZOsWWpGy7nWwiWuKg7pfy-1MUtu9ENyBhR6yNmRBsAiqdu17sdrQrWFWioMpU2BO5fdJ-Xx5YY_UN4e0f1xZmBI8m3SS0_kZqv2Vvs8DyO/s1600/WESTONTAMBERM20101025104727292.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYxnzQnay1dXLGXAIlnJlQPS-B1j1RNVKHZZOsWWpGy7nWwiWuKg7pfy-1MUtu9ENyBhR6yNmRBsAiqdu17sdrQrWFWioMpU2BO5fdJ-Xx5YY_UN4e0f1xZmBI8m3SS0_kZqv2Vvs8DyO/s400/WESTONTAMBERM20101025104727292.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532106570996807010" border="0" /></a><br /><br />:) Mark and I couldn't be more excited (or more surprised!).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaw4QV-UJSUZnzcTL-17fXpc0_RF4_SB365s6vybfDkSj-6ZJp5XHuadqALsWLHrwWJ98YtywAQKmkJc1ukTEHxkyon0wvpo-gYBwdRWDyzACPdfzdes9jnMuvGnDxseY2zN_F7on8R0vo/s1600/WESTONTAMBERM20101025103741982.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaw4QV-UJSUZnzcTL-17fXpc0_RF4_SB365s6vybfDkSj-6ZJp5XHuadqALsWLHrwWJ98YtywAQKmkJc1ukTEHxkyon0wvpo-gYBwdRWDyzACPdfzdes9jnMuvGnDxseY2zN_F7on8R0vo/s400/WESTONTAMBERM20101025103741982.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532106567675774850" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And he's already flexing his muscles, explaining why I've been able to feel him since 12 weeks. I'm not looking forward to the 3rd trimester when his kicks and punches will actually hurt!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrOQeHeBuDm3mZzYIWJsoGy1XsrsqXoXWS2hsj0xEwCXKBnh1kMSU5pjyyP9xfl3R616e_h3H9pQ6QS0b8ZAAqfvgz0AlZNd9Bphz-jcgD__b20GLGu6efMuTbyDRihXCvR_R5aNnTPbr/s1600/WESTONTAMBERM20101025103101378.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrOQeHeBuDm3mZzYIWJsoGy1XsrsqXoXWS2hsj0xEwCXKBnh1kMSU5pjyyP9xfl3R616e_h3H9pQ6QS0b8ZAAqfvgz0AlZNd9Bphz-jcgD__b20GLGu6efMuTbyDRihXCvR_R5aNnTPbr/s400/WESTONTAMBERM20101025103101378.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532105266243884578" border="0" /></a>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-62785548115758637782010-08-17T19:43:00.004-06:002010-08-17T20:09:53.387-06:00Miss Sanpete County<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJfYD8xOK73rXYQn_n1Rmb2NvHlakoXo88MlSKtRjCVhyphenhyphen602oEDMBuWk5VFg6ZvMesdm-K500VGwYx8eESvOxpCJ4f59GMXRO-i85cq5liAli_b9PuufNHyLMEHFMjEnRfvK2slHFR26C/s1600/Miss+Sanpete+2010.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJfYD8xOK73rXYQn_n1Rmb2NvHlakoXo88MlSKtRjCVhyphenhyphen602oEDMBuWk5VFg6ZvMesdm-K500VGwYx8eESvOxpCJ4f59GMXRO-i85cq5liAli_b9PuufNHyLMEHFMjEnRfvK2slHFR26C/s400/Miss+Sanpete+2010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506560140636678098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">(from left to right: me, my sisters Ariel, Deanna, Alexis, and Mandie)</span><br /></div><br />I'm so excited for my sister Ariel. She was crowned Miss Sanpete over the weekend and will compete in Miss Utah next year!<br />Because of the way things worked out, both she and my sister Deanna competed at the same time. (Ariel won Miss Manti in 2009 and had to finish her year of service before competing in Miss Sanpete, however Deanna competed for Miss Manti earlier this year and won first attendant so she didn't have to wait a year before going to Miss Sanpete). Anyway out of the eleven girls Deanna was one of the six who didn't make it to the royalty (even though I think she did an awesome job!) She was a good sport about it though and plans to do Miss Manti again next year. Go D! And as for Ariel, I wish her the best of luck this coming year.<br /><br />And just as a side note, I was also "Miss Sanpete" once upon a time (in 2001) so it's fun to share that with Ariel. I would include a picture from my younger days, but they are all in storage at the moment. So we'll just have to go without.Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-73149269226782200832010-07-28T15:17:00.002-06:002010-07-28T15:26:35.644-06:00Regret<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJAHlJmEuRmDPB6b6WEIRiM99P-LGve7DwampcqZBE7KPN9vd3Sld7B6gpjf85p6y5tmPPLST8dGbMk1UiK9cbB_iZbE-iAl7STybpaQAuiAvFWwH_vG1TUFUPDxFtfItVjLKnydw6xPqf/s1600/100_3306.jpg"><span><span></span></span></a>I should be posting about our new home, or our adventures in Manti but I feel like this instead:<br />It took ages to grow out Millie's hair (after she took scissors to it). But then she started begging me to cut it short every time I gave Ivy a trim. So one night I gave in and chopped it off.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzaPmy13zwHBaDOG66s9mqkq4pkSsVtGFWmrTlekzJBl5arWk1wuGalzdlCJO1elUKmDmR27KLGmAiTTmk0QeVpA6mRSl1D-0lvUC2NXXRk4s95AInBwJr1ezRcoReRqsY23yIaXzQToRc/s1600/100_3363.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzaPmy13zwHBaDOG66s9mqkq4pkSsVtGFWmrTlekzJBl5arWk1wuGalzdlCJO1elUKmDmR27KLGmAiTTmk0QeVpA6mRSl1D-0lvUC2NXXRk4s95AInBwJr1ezRcoReRqsY23yIaXzQToRc/s400/100_3363.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499070005517439410" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I've regretted it ever since.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBkn_J5sBkOEFOGG17ZeTkgnm8eDiCd1H3RiGhV928RQ48LOOsrBjxN7DzwBZ0xDVEGJ1ZDbtmjGb6hCwLtsbCKonnOysc_5Ac4NFKAoKbPPhkXnur4OHk-x2jJXMbrv2_A8p2wLM8Pvs/s1600/100_3530.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBkn_J5sBkOEFOGG17ZeTkgnm8eDiCd1H3RiGhV928RQ48LOOsrBjxN7DzwBZ0xDVEGJ1ZDbtmjGb6hCwLtsbCKonnOysc_5Ac4NFKAoKbPPhkXnur4OHk-x2jJXMbrv2_A8p2wLM8Pvs/s400/100_3530.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499069993406859378" border="0" /></a>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-90954139077459276562010-06-15T21:39:00.003-06:002010-06-15T21:57:12.396-06:00Sneak PeekWe have to be out of our house this Saturday. It came so fast! I'm frantically trying to pack everything up by myself while playing single mom to two needy girls and it's not much fun. I know it will all be over soon enough. And Mark, bless his heart, is working himself to death trying to get our rental home finished. It won't be ready by this weekend, but we don't want to be homeless any longer than we have to be, so work he must. Here's a sneak peek at where we will be living for the next year or so . . . more pictures to come.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWgOH1Ky3xr_8wwpQ732E2NYiU6ZiJMDMk5g7ZiZqxElFFcQxt0DVMWVogydIBs0jZtL8mRIw4J6Soa4NvDvCevVLJ63SD-ofoPzNNuzTXCCGHaVHi-4r9xGwA3sSrE_C0Ov0EvR59BF-/s1600/100_3331.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWgOH1Ky3xr_8wwpQ732E2NYiU6ZiJMDMk5g7ZiZqxElFFcQxt0DVMWVogydIBs0jZtL8mRIw4J6Soa4NvDvCevVLJ63SD-ofoPzNNuzTXCCGHaVHi-4r9xGwA3sSrE_C0Ov0EvR59BF-/s400/100_3331.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483211884488522802" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I was so excited when I saw the home had peonies! The girls and I brought some home as soon as they bloomed.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1C0-66f3jOfze8th14XOINQ3Nkd7WqMgRd7Q9G2UvHMPU4DZOgy9t1JCI-v0DdOxvBIzxgcQczgwPgcsmqAyRpcpLGJY4rJlqC-ZuFcDzCfFmS6_JZkbzTZ2RmFrOLNXuNz2-RoNh_lb/s1600/100_3337.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1C0-66f3jOfze8th14XOINQ3Nkd7WqMgRd7Q9G2UvHMPU4DZOgy9t1JCI-v0DdOxvBIzxgcQczgwPgcsmqAyRpcpLGJY4rJlqC-ZuFcDzCfFmS6_JZkbzTZ2RmFrOLNXuNz2-RoNh_lb/s320/100_3337.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483211653315525826" border="0" /></a><br />And these wild poppies just started growing behind our (current) home this year. Poppies and peonies are my favorite flowers, so I had to include this shot.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5zhyog76iGAdi67rB1CeGvItI9qEo4VECs5QU4_Gc4ILSGTav6qeGFDS01KiRvYydGgeTBLc5-BVHKVTFwCgnnx1KEhwE2LSghVJehonmJlSmUwhIiFY0pri_hajxDZzvLj8Z6oa3zB3/s1600/100_3364.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5zhyog76iGAdi67rB1CeGvItI9qEo4VECs5QU4_Gc4ILSGTav6qeGFDS01KiRvYydGgeTBLc5-BVHKVTFwCgnnx1KEhwE2LSghVJehonmJlSmUwhIiFY0pri_hajxDZzvLj8Z6oa3zB3/s320/100_3364.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483211646485866882" border="0" /></a>It may be while before I'm able to post again, but I'll do my best.Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-12760636792378095302010-06-04T16:46:00.009-06:002010-06-04T19:35:43.000-06:00Face Paint and PiccadilliesI took the girls down to Manti over Memorial Day Weekend. We go every year for the Scandinavian Festival. Mark usually joins us, but this year he was too busy fixing up a rental home so we have somewhere to live in a few weeks.<br /><br />Millie and Ivy were so excited to collect candy at the parade (or at least Millie was). My sister Deanna was on the Miss Manti float. Millie told me that when she grows up she wants to be "First Attendent" and be in a parade. It was so cute.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzKSij7u7KPanHWSKpm1pAfc8ElcOC_gZnuF1b8sxhbXxfw_4chgIMJB9LMAWQ9L2cg3Zaj1H9mpQkpatyz_T26o3xFwabJsnLiKmF8myTKysYSZKfXm6kHv26zvjSwm-bL06zEhB8f2mj/s1600/100_3220.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzKSij7u7KPanHWSKpm1pAfc8ElcOC_gZnuF1b8sxhbXxfw_4chgIMJB9LMAWQ9L2cg3Zaj1H9mpQkpatyz_T26o3xFwabJsnLiKmF8myTKysYSZKfXm6kHv26zvjSwm-bL06zEhB8f2mj/s320/100_3220.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479066034135114978" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And here's the famous "First Attendant" after the parade chowing down on Sanpete barbecue turkey and piccadillies -- so good!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMhpHT07uwhJuB282oAASx8VA2s6crDsxLFe5Z5-oK9M4G9khGiiTArWV2tO3SJodGd3ZGl8AgmgDyPpMmx0DdErB73jLWg6MF47Vt4R0aTkHMJQsihEnICFl4M_Cmiy7TrJYFwCDFKy5/s1600/100_3228.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMhpHT07uwhJuB282oAASx8VA2s6crDsxLFe5Z5-oK9M4G9khGiiTArWV2tO3SJodGd3ZGl8AgmgDyPpMmx0DdErB73jLWg6MF47Vt4R0aTkHMJQsihEnICFl4M_Cmiy7TrJYFwCDFKy5/s320/100_3228.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479066028884798066" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Vikings are also a favorite at the festival. Here Marie (a foreign exchange student from Germany who has lived with my family for the past 5 months) poses with one.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVJVqNPJbl88BxP01z8Fq9Rb6XP5pW6jn4D6aMqAo19exkRy5r4tyRRb_6h2tjvfR0E5vjawf_hZEBu_1Iei42IInhA4iTpIJ007fG0XVWRYPj4EEJB7TQ-Kxdwu03-aLnJVP8cVHNCWf/s1600/100_3224.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVJVqNPJbl88BxP01z8Fq9Rb6XP5pW6jn4D6aMqAo19exkRy5r4tyRRb_6h2tjvfR0E5vjawf_hZEBu_1Iei42IInhA4iTpIJ007fG0XVWRYPj4EEJB7TQ-Kxdwu03-aLnJVP8cVHNCWf/s320/100_3224.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479055348612964770" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My mom took Millie to get her face painted at one of the booths.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJdNUxpdRfVSlLbl2cvox3n7krWIDmbwpv7p9CeaylGBspkSfCexK_wuUHS_iVRvzfQov5Z9X038pQh-oHqnvM9_NPMFdmTS0BcueGWavA4W997pxLqT3SrOAAfEvh02ymX8gQPLdE-ui/s1600/100_3230.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJdNUxpdRfVSlLbl2cvox3n7krWIDmbwpv7p9CeaylGBspkSfCexK_wuUHS_iVRvzfQov5Z9X038pQh-oHqnvM9_NPMFdmTS0BcueGWavA4W997pxLqT3SrOAAfEvh02ymX8gQPLdE-ui/s320/100_3230.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479055340846445522" border="0" /></a><br /><br />She was on cloud nine. Thanks mom.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEika8Eh6tDNf67hbYaX2lOyx-OuiLZC9T6_Yc-JM5M6S96eR2ubem5TZCb2FSmvZ0HkRX4qJEymxm-4HqwV44wBwVsUpE1grcSrEZp5OzIpJtLyDO50ryaBpEs_0c1ymbHrIhME2mhm3hYe/s1600/100_3232.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEika8Eh6tDNf67hbYaX2lOyx-OuiLZC9T6_Yc-JM5M6S96eR2ubem5TZCb2FSmvZ0HkRX4qJEymxm-4HqwV44wBwVsUpE1grcSrEZp5OzIpJtLyDO50ryaBpEs_0c1ymbHrIhME2mhm3hYe/s320/100_3232.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479055333447886066" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sunday morning we took a trip to the Manti Cemetery. Millie was so excited to see where her great-grandfather is buried.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztmbnj0PVUxuu4GrAQOhlSoIQvQlO2HkaQryKjFNKAFyyGynusegpBc6BUL6IPNzZcba4H2WWxmkWq0wxZzzM8nezK6KKielaEA72zaBizt_gOtLPuxf3aKyuDkheNpDNTRoMPZuMFwuy/s1600/100_3279.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztmbnj0PVUxuu4GrAQOhlSoIQvQlO2HkaQryKjFNKAFyyGynusegpBc6BUL6IPNzZcba4H2WWxmkWq0wxZzzM8nezK6KKielaEA72zaBizt_gOtLPuxf3aKyuDkheNpDNTRoMPZuMFwuy/s320/100_3279.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479055317162799250" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We also visited my friend Emily's grave. It's such a pretty headstone with her signature on one side and her photo on the other. The visit brought back sad memories but it was nice to have my daughters there with me.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIZ7T3Un9OrLzmRpyoYVNtssSDNFY0Eo9hm-gqmZoTCsT3vOh8i2sreIZhdC72phPEormf8p88xnDIaxFxPwZWbIC7bfFkYcr0Ep5JvY3hlQ1nvnWBHl7F2PwfG-C057JSQpgcnZK9Xaw/s1600/100_3280.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIZ7T3Un9OrLzmRpyoYVNtssSDNFY0Eo9hm-gqmZoTCsT3vOh8i2sreIZhdC72phPEormf8p88xnDIaxFxPwZWbIC7bfFkYcr0Ep5JvY3hlQ1nvnWBHl7F2PwfG-C057JSQpgcnZK9Xaw/s320/100_3280.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479055314460008578" border="0" /></a>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-5795457730032906362010-06-03T22:11:00.004-06:002010-06-04T16:46:45.072-06:00My Awesome SistersLast month I spent a weekend in Manti. My sister Mandie graduated from Utah State University through its extension program in Ephraim.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Here's the graduate with her husband Danny. Way to go Mando.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkxs_h0VDLeb8YIO7eVP5gu8tyuqTlduzxj8NYKqg8fDc0h5-7oXORnDSOaXEAjezi1TKZV9yAvbtGG4iNysx-UHjm56cpj5yxvp2iT_ccS7zULqJQLeaWQjUEFB9e9YxW9vC8mqzgk2g/s1600/100_3106.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkxs_h0VDLeb8YIO7eVP5gu8tyuqTlduzxj8NYKqg8fDc0h5-7oXORnDSOaXEAjezi1TKZV9yAvbtGG4iNysx-UHjm56cpj5yxvp2iT_ccS7zULqJQLeaWQjUEFB9e9YxW9vC8mqzgk2g/s320/100_3106.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478767029535949010" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Then the next night I went to see my sister Deanna (right) compete in the Miss Manti Pageant and my sister Ariel (left) give up her crown (she was last year's winner).<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8zK7-LkP1dtjKMRMfMfwJ-5LNsicRmRoTFU2qWgU39JSg_D0jtKv7NyfrSEcrIFUshJaAUFrOOwezloNOYbR2wxfA92SBqW72G2XqKaJRTpvaoJRj8qmao74F6rVuotVTml8xPXJgS19/s1600/100_3124.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8zK7-LkP1dtjKMRMfMfwJ-5LNsicRmRoTFU2qWgU39JSg_D0jtKv7NyfrSEcrIFUshJaAUFrOOwezloNOYbR2wxfA92SBqW72G2XqKaJRTpvaoJRj8qmao74F6rVuotVTml8xPXJgS19/s320/100_3124.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478767019187595090" border="0" /></a>Deanna was awesome and won first attendant. Now she and Ariel will compete together in Miss Sanpete this fall.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">And here's the ritual sibling group shot.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhIygKiRuHLIh6lhljJix3MbSCrsNRWU5EQR0Uwr2KTweNumkT_-RxJVa_CYbf76M4pQiJPnsSKo4EA1hyf3CDKQ64qhQ6aMslvkrHXuMvBiS7GXAEezkhabTGOhOnQl9FKST4RSDohFWR/s1600/100_3119.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhIygKiRuHLIh6lhljJix3MbSCrsNRWU5EQR0Uwr2KTweNumkT_-RxJVa_CYbf76M4pQiJPnsSKo4EA1hyf3CDKQ64qhQ6aMslvkrHXuMvBiS7GXAEezkhabTGOhOnQl9FKST4RSDohFWR/s320/100_3119.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478767011576426562" border="0" /></a>Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5720046827644428831.post-53678538158390977092010-05-24T15:58:00.004-06:002010-05-24T16:33:55.128-06:00"Please Take Note: Always Bring a Tote." - Fancy NancyYes, I know Earth Day month is long since gone but I was too busy with my last week of teaching preschool and getting the house up for sale, to blog. But as most all of us are frequent visitors of the supermarket, this topic extends past the month of April.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhe779vwcqWRAuBwpscLlGt_5RsSeMRuHoXsOfUBs1FF21CpqIJ81dagBlOvHyGgAwaLRfY_LPOeJA_-CM_jZmSPYI2VBfJ9nbpliyFIOudQBauhoRV-3tFspD5ru8Y3YV8gHrNL6fiLt/s1600/100_3075.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhe779vwcqWRAuBwpscLlGt_5RsSeMRuHoXsOfUBs1FF21CpqIJ81dagBlOvHyGgAwaLRfY_LPOeJA_-CM_jZmSPYI2VBfJ9nbpliyFIOudQBauhoRV-3tFspD5ru8Y3YV8gHrNL6fiLt/s320/100_3075.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474960506849074370" border="0" /></a>These are my grocery bags and I absolutely love them! Not only do they keep hundreds (if not thousands) of plastic bags out of the landfill (and out of my pantry) but they are also far more effective at getting my groceries from the grocery cart to the trunk of my car and from the trunk to my kitchen counter top, in fewer trips, and with greater ease and comfort . . . love them!<br /><br />I also went one step further and purchased my own <a href="http://www.amazon.com/flip-tumble-5-Pack-Reusable-Produce/dp/B002UXQ7QQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=home-garden&qid=1274739648&sr=8-1-catcorr">produce bags</a> as I have started buying more and more produce in an effort to feed my family healthier meals. However a word of caution when buying produce: USDA Certified Organic is always better for the environment and your health than non-organic, but not always realistic when it comes to the pocketbook. In this case I refer to the <a href="http://www.foodnews.org/sneak/?utm_source=shopperrelease&utm_medium=email&utm_content=third-link&utm_campaign=foodnews">Environmental Working Group’s “Dirty Dozen” and “Clean Fifteen” lists</a>. (Click <a href="http://www.foodnews.org/sneak/?utm_source=shopperrelease&utm_medium=email&utm_content=third-link&utm_campaign=foodnews">here</a> to download your own list.) <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/05/17/pesticides.adhd/index.html">Pesticides were recently link to ADHD in the news</a>, but I have no doubt they contribute to a plethora of maladies and are best to be avoided. And sure Organic foods are more expensive than non-organic but look at it this way: For every dollar you save when buying non-organic (and processed foods for that matter) you will pay later in medical care and sick-leave. So invest the money in good food and save yourself the trouble and the heartache of poor health.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Why Green?</span><br />For many people I think the concept of “Going Green” appears to be a fad, or a trend. And I must admit that I purchased my canvas grocery totes (years ago), after watching an environmentally- conscious episode of Oprah, but it has always been an interest of mine. As a girl I remember wishing my hometown would start a recycling program. All these years later that has yet to happen and it breaks my heart because “Going Green” is not about being trendy, but about<span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">being responsible consumers of this planet!</span></span> And it is my belief that the Earth, in some way we cannot fully comprehend, feels pain (<a href="http://scriptures.lds.org/en/moses/7">Moses 7:48</a>). And while I know my efforts will make little difference and the Earth will most likely fall into ruin before the second coming of the Savior, I don’t want to be found guilty of it on judgment day. So whether it’s trend or conscience that motivates us, we’d all do well to observe the words of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/FANCY-NANCY-EVERY-EARTH-LEVEL/dp/0061873268/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1274737985&sr=1-1">Fancy Nancy</a> and remember that “Every day is Earth Day.”Westonshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15721747225479525520noreply@blogger.com2