tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220689789074892852024-03-13T22:15:34.150-04:00EquilibriumTrying to maintain the delicate work life balance (and my sanity) while raising two kids under two.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.comBlogger194125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-11396000354589437872010-02-13T22:17:00.006-05:002010-02-13T23:53:31.361-05:00We Can't Have Anything Nice in This House!I remember that phrase as a child. Has anyone gone through childhood without hearing it? However, it was only recently I fully began to appreciate just how true that phrase is. I've been working very hard on creating a new room for them that has been in planning for months. But I sit here now wondering why I didn't just strip the room bare and throw a couple of mattresses on the floor.<br /><br />Allow me to take you on a journey of a week in my life.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Saturday, Jan 30th- The shampoo incident</span><br />We are expecting company. Since I still haven't hired a new housekeeper, my house is not exactly ready for primetime. We waited way to late to begin cleaning and then the frenzy began. While Bill and I were busy running from room to room picking up and vacuuming, I remember thinking how nice it was that the girls had finally stopped getting in the way and had gone off to play. My second thought was panic that they had stopped getting in the way and had gone off to play.<br /><br />I stopped what I was doing and began to look around for the two cohorts. I saw the bathroom light was on and the door was closed. Uh oh. This can't be good.<br /><br />I slowly opened the door and saw the shower curtain pulled shut. I pulled back the curtain and there I saw two fully dressed, fully soaked girls. But not soaked in water. They were soaked in shampoo. They had taken a value sized bottle of shampoo and covered every square inch of themselves, the tub, the floor, and the toilet.<br /><br />Of course that was a room that had already been cleaned. Now we get to clean it again on a day where we just didn't have the time. Bill stripped the girls down, tossed them in the tub and cleaned the toilet and floor while the tub got cleaned from the girls splashing in the bath.<br /><br />There was a plus side out of that mess. I don't think our floor nor our girls have ever been quite so squeaky clean.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sunday, January 31- The bins</span><br />I had carefully sorted all of the old girls clothes to get them ready for sale and give away. I had sorted them by size and by season and had gotten the label maker out as a final mark of my brief window of organization. I had all of the bins stacked in the living room for Bill to take to the basement.<br /><br />It took no time at all for the girls to discover the bins and decide they would work much better as play toys than as storage bins. When I came downstairs, this is what I found.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyiMrAIztrG3pcyTk_uNeuVtsHK7-c7EsQBckhPWHsBTIhk8KFTeTEfT7xg_p_QrXfVoS0UE7phr0_530ESbTDAj5qbfuzm0ejzoclNuR6-jM9kY-uf3W6rheHqyoS-xds7nXgDMkqAY/s1600-h/DSC_0729.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyiMrAIztrG3pcyTk_uNeuVtsHK7-c7EsQBckhPWHsBTIhk8KFTeTEfT7xg_p_QrXfVoS0UE7phr0_530ESbTDAj5qbfuzm0ejzoclNuR6-jM9kY-uf3W6rheHqyoS-xds7nXgDMkqAY/s400/DSC_0729.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437956166353341202" border="0" /></a><br />Every bin had been opened and the mixed and tossed about the living room and they were using the bins as forts. Nice.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Monday, February 1- Stickers</span><br />Let me say I hate stickers with a white hot burning passion. Once upon a time, I thought they were a clever distraction. I naively thought that if I gave the girls sticker books they would sit there quietly and place their stickers in corresponding pages and admire them within the confines of the princess book pages they were given. That happened once. Every other time stickers have been involved they have been placed anywhere but in the dedicated sticker book pages. They have been found on every piece of furniture, in their hair, in the car, in the dishwasher, and in Bailey's diaper. I have worked very hard to eradicate the house of every sticker and sticker book ever bought. Yet somehow, there is always more. I am convinced that somewhere in the house Reagan has a super secret stash of nothing but stickers and fruit snacks. She seems to have a never ending supply of both despite being cutoff for quite some time. Some day I'll find that chipmunk's stash, for now, I deal with them as they come.<br /><br />On this day, stickers magically appeared on the living room windows. Some of the stickers were strategically placed up to six feet high. Despite having to get the goo gone yet again for another sticker incident, I am impressed at a 3ft munchinkin's ability to get the stickers possibly higher than I could have stuck them.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tuesday, February 2- Sledding</span><br />Dear Diary, today I observed the girls using princess sleeping bags to pull each other throughout the house as sleds. I was too tired to care. I told them to carry on.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wednesday, February 3- Washable Markers</span><br />Today Stanley Steemer came to remove the red, green, and blue washable marker from the carpet. Turns out "washable markers" are not actually "washable" on carpet. This was duly noted and all washable markers were promptly tossed in the trash (however I'm sure Reagan managed to get a sizable stash hidden with her stickers and fruit snacks before they were all tossed. I don't expect this to be the last of them.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Thursday, Februay 4- The beds</span><br />The girls got to sleep in their new beds for the first time last night. Bill and I spent hours assembling them, making the beds, and getting everything just so for their first night.<br /><br />Usually when they get up, first thing they do is head into our room and begin asking for milk, cereal, pancakes, pizza, fruit snacks, whatever strikes them. Today, they got up and started playing in their new room. When I heard them awake I went into their room. They had stripped every blanket, sheet, and pillow off of the beds and had shoved them in their princess castle tent. They then managed to toss one of the mattresses on the floor and were crash diving from the box springs to the mattress. They had also emptied every bin of toys I had carefully organized and emptied the contents of eight of them into their tent and once they finished that they tossed the bins in on top.<br /><br />I walked back out and went back to bed. Maybe it was just a bad dream.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Friday, February 5 and Saturday, February 6- Say What?</span><br />No destruction! That was because we had company. The little monsters were on their best behavior so that my family would think I'm just making up all of the stories about them.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sunday, February 7- Hershey's Kisses and chapstick</span><br />Family is gone so the girls had two days of pent up destruction to get out. The family was gone about 15 minutes before Reagan discovered some Hershey's kisses wrapped with a souvenir hockey puck from the hockey game the night before. Most went of the chocolate found its way into her mouth. However, some discovered its way into the couch and had melted into a series of Rorschach inkblot tests.<br /><br />While Reagan was busy with Hershey's kisses, Bailey was upstairs. I heard a scratching noise on the walls and went to check it out. She had scribbled the entire length of the hallway with chapstick. I caught her in the act:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWS9SUp29Rva8LaMB_zgeGBVifyL58eqccQjsHPoqo1DoaHZm68o7Os4CFcjn66BXqm7XNxvzjbAhYWz_6PI_J8UDj_m_40YO7kfMkMji3q82BRIfew8Wud6vqRMJLUB_t-3YmDPNxu8/s1600-h/DSC_0752.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWS9SUp29Rva8LaMB_zgeGBVifyL58eqccQjsHPoqo1DoaHZm68o7Os4CFcjn66BXqm7XNxvzjbAhYWz_6PI_J8UDj_m_40YO7kfMkMji3q82BRIfew8Wud6vqRMJLUB_t-3YmDPNxu8/s400/DSC_0752.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437955692839832706" border="0" /></a><br />That was just one piece of the hallway. Multiply that by three for the full effect.<br />Note to self: Don't waste time trying to scrub off chapstick off the walls with wet wipes. It doesn't work.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Today, February 13- Sharpie</span><br />I was passing yet another kidney stone today. Bill had to leave for a while. I called a babysitter to come take care of the kids while he was gone so I could lay in my room and die.<br /><br />I only had to make it 30 minutes after he left and before the babysitter got there. I laid in my room with the doors open and stupidly thought that the girls would quietly sit in the living room and play and watch tv for 30 minutes. What part of this post would make me think that, you say? None. But when you're in pain you'll rationalize anything.<br /><br />About 20 minutes into Bill being gone, 10 minutes before the babysitter arrives, I hear a loud crash. I run downstairs to make sure the girls are ok. Thelma and Louise aren't in the living room at all. They are in the foyer. But not before they made a pitstop in the kitchen to dig through a few drawers to find their latest object of desire.<br /><br />I run up to them and Reagan says, "Bailey dropped the sign on the floor." That's what made the loud crash, no harm done. I start to relax seeing they are both breathing and nothing is broken. But then I see Reagan and notice glints of silver around her mouth, on her hands, and running down her pants. While I am examining her I hear Bailey say, "Ray-run did it" and she's pointing to a corner of the hardwood floor.<br /><br />That's when I see what was done. And that's where I actually start to cry. Reagan had found a metallic silver Sharpie pen (you know, the VERY permanent ones!) and had colored all over the floor and the wall. She had begun writing her name on a very precious table my father had handmade for me with countless hours of love. She had gotten through "R-E" and a scribble before Bailey crashed the picture. I circled the room and saw that she also scribbled on a 150 year old chair that had belonged to my great-great grandparents and had been passed down to me after my grandpa "Pop" had died.<br /><br />Of all of the destructive things my girls have done, this was by far the worst. I yelled at Reagan and told her she ruined something very precious and valuable to me. I then got my composure and went and dug out the magic erasers I bought a while back and hadn't pulled out of the box. I tested it on the hardwood floor. I hate the finish on the floors anyway. To my surprise the Sharpie was coming off and wasn't removing the finish. I held my breath as I got the nerve to try it on the table. To my delight it worked! The Sharpie came off and the finish was still perfectly preserved. I decided to try my luck again and tried the chair. Again, it worked. It carefully removed the marks while leaving the beautiful patina that only 150 years of wear will provide. It also worked on the walls, but I noticed the wall was slightly darker where I removed the Sharpie.<br /><br />About that time the babysitter arrived. I went back to my bedroom and decided the girls just might live to see another birthday after all.<br /><br /><br />So now it's the end of the day and I find myself once again saying, "How come we can't have anything nice in this house!?"<br />I'm also wondering what's in store for tomorrow. At the very least I'm looking up the stock in Magic Eraser and looking into buying that stuff by the case.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-17743877770932454462010-02-13T16:01:00.002-05:002010-02-13T16:03:23.670-05:00When I grow upReagan: "When I grow up I want to be a bad, wicked witch."<br /><br />When she was two she wanted to be a school bus driver. But now this? Where have I gone wrong? Someone is getting cut off from watching any more Wizzard of Oz.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-38828550986378654312010-01-06T21:07:00.005-05:002010-05-23T00:39:44.093-04:00Why?There is a Six Sigma management technique that is used to identify the root cause of problems called "The Five Whys." You start with an issue and continue asking why until you get to what the problem really is. Doctrine has it that it was developed by a guy in Japan at Toyota. I implore that it was more than likely developed by the mom of an inquisitive toddler who recently learned the word, "why."<br /><br />Earlier this week we were in the car and Bailey asked a question. I gave a response, and she said, "Why?"<br /><br />We were so excited! She hit a developmental milestone! This is big news! We need to log this stardate!<br /><br />Three days later, and we are wishing she'd learn a new favorite word already. Every question and response is now reduced to a one word response.<br /><br />Bailey: I have pockets in my dress?<br />Me: No, sweetie, there are no pockets in that dress.<br />Bailey: Why?<br />Me: Because the dress didn't come with pockets.<br />Bailey: Why?<br />Me: Because they didn't sew any on when they made it.<br />Bailey: Why?<br />Me: Because they wanted to save fabric to sew more dresses.<br />Bailey: Why?<br />Me: Because the person that designed the dress didn't think you needed them.<br />Bailey: Why?<br />Me: Because clearly the person that designed the dress didn't have a two year old of their own.<br /><br />This sort of dialog continues for 30 minutes at a time. I've now clearly identified the root cause to the lack of pockets in girls' dresses amongst dozens of other earth moving revelations.<br /><br />Need to learn the answer to word peace? Want to know why your DVD player isn't working? Just ask a two year old. Chances are, she's got all of the right questions.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-42320793165516250842010-01-04T14:03:00.002-05:002010-01-04T14:55:31.926-05:00New Beginnings<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"...For if they never should have </span><span style="font-style: italic;" class="highlight">bitter</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> they could not know the </span><span style="font-style: italic;" class="highlight">sweet."</span><br /><br /></div>It's a new year. Funny, I don't feel all that different. It's like having a birthday, you are technically one year older but yet you look and feel the same as you did the day before. But because of some mark on some calendar adopted by some Pope back in 1582, we get a chance to designate a particular day more special than other days. It's a day where we get to mentally wipe the slate clean and start fresh. We get to say, "last year I had some bad habits" or "last year some bad things happened" but "this year will be different." We start off the new year thinking this is going to be the best one yet, the one where you get everything in your life just exactly the way you want it to be. We have grand ideas of these great goals, but within two weeks 30% of us have already given up and only 50% of us make it three months. Which is exactly why only 40% of us even bother to set new years resolutions at all.<br /><br />Those aren't great odds. But I'm going to do it anyway. The year 2009 was pretty much one of the worst years of my adult life. It was tough mentally, physically, emotionally. I am determined to take 2009 and learn from it and make the subsequent years all that much better. I took the bitter so that I can appreciate the sweet all that much more.<br /><br />So in order to make 2010 better and make 2010 where I want to be mentally, physically, and emotionally, here are my goals that I'd like to share:<br /><ul><li>I want to get organized. I want to have every closet, drawer, and nook and cranny organized. I want everything to have a home and a purpose or it is gone. I don't want to have to rely on a housekeeper to keep my life in order.</li><li>I want to be healthy. I want to eat healthy and exercise at least five times a week. If that leads me to my wish of losing a gazillion pounds, that would be even better. But ultimately I want to make sure I am healthy so I am around for my family for a long time and I want to be happy and secure with what I look like.</li><li>I want to become a better photographer. I want to learn to use my camera better and take better pictures. I want to one day take the darn thing off of auto.</li><li>I want to document the life of my children and myself for posterity. This is simple, I resolve to blog more. There are a lot of reasons I didn't blog much last year. I'm taking all of those away so that I have no reason not to blog at least five times a week.</li><li>I want to have a work life balance. This has always been a struggle. I still haven't figured out my action plan for this one. I just know that I need to make sure I put more time and attention to my children and husband and less on my work. If I don't, I'll fail at my other goals.</li></ul><br />It's a tall list, but I think it's reasonable. I just need to set aside a little time each day. We'll see how far I get. Hopefully I'll be one of the minority success statistics rather than the majority that give up after three months.<br /><br />So, how about you? What resolutions or goals have you set for yourself? How do you plan to make this year better than the ones before?<br /><span class="highlight"></span>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-19822145906226059472009-10-21T22:08:00.011-04:002009-10-22T08:51:16.575-04:00Pumpkin Patch Play<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImSB9FX1BNPVMyIZQ9xGVhyDC_OcFNeRV8TwBV8iqghDzUEagt66DFWqyoSsfaObN8v1T3Mpg0aJY3eL3QUkBKFtuYlbRGEJx5KI8YDKFVBK5sv_9mKSPQGbcbanw6JrT1ZcVrfvWI40/s1600-h/DSC_0033.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImSB9FX1BNPVMyIZQ9xGVhyDC_OcFNeRV8TwBV8iqghDzUEagt66DFWqyoSsfaObN8v1T3Mpg0aJY3eL3QUkBKFtuYlbRGEJx5KI8YDKFVBK5sv_9mKSPQGbcbanw6JrT1ZcVrfvWI40/s400/DSC_0033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395262889646051282" border="0" /></a><br />Over the weekend we did the obligatory pumpkin patch fall farm day. This year we picked Souther Belle Farms. A great farm with a pumpkin patch, huge corn maze, cow train, peda carts, corn cannons, hay slides, pig races, and more. We went with my sister Tara and her kids Savahhah (10), Shelby (8), John (6), and Landon (3).<br /><br />The kids were immediately impressed with the pumpkin patch and wanted to spend all of their time there. But we convinced<br />them there was more to see.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xYKVCtQDhznbkkUgXAnDEDl3m6he972Mc0uW7KDl8-BiXB8PDJ8cy6fvjMqm22-C2sR7-0OVnAlAAHY6Iy6TvdcPjjAtZThbria4fH_w3F23OHYSjlcLh3t3qdo2zyjr_gFnT8zaTxI/s1600-h/DSC_0154.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xYKVCtQDhznbkkUgXAnDEDl3m6he972Mc0uW7KDl8-BiXB8PDJ8cy6fvjMqm22-C2sR7-0OVnAlAAHY6Iy6TvdcPjjAtZThbria4fH_w3F23OHYSjlcLh3t3qdo2zyjr_gFnT8zaTxI/s400/DSC_0154.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395248610088820722" border="0" /></a><br />That would include the cow train...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKWbqNAtgn39RpscaUECt95U2yENjKRSzwcKUjPyXiuQS6_yGKBBMEDhM1-MwnPgMCjOlOzZRDu0-Hn_GGP7pPNZ8XNHlkFFU3ufR48Ym5R6BFMloFf6bivZCVHOZVkbYuA7Z1HoGpoM/s1600-h/DSC_0011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKWbqNAtgn39RpscaUECt95U2yENjKRSzwcKUjPyXiuQS6_yGKBBMEDhM1-MwnPgMCjOlOzZRDu0-Hn_GGP7pPNZ8XNHlkFFU3ufR48Ym5R6BFMloFf6bivZCVHOZVkbYuA7Z1HoGpoM/s400/DSC_0011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395248613420577122" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcp6cvRkBlHh9vLNkCD-X3_IkQyIcSYPy4mhu8qmV3__npuZlmjHSX5N0iVD-LiFhaEIXmFAXDQkbPIgCO9Gg4yP2FwNsnB7G4dEvrI7lSgN2EaE3qANBb7-q6cygbEom1NX7nz53LWQM/s1600-h/DSC_0019.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcp6cvRkBlHh9vLNkCD-X3_IkQyIcSYPy4mhu8qmV3__npuZlmjHSX5N0iVD-LiFhaEIXmFAXDQkbPIgCO9Gg4yP2FwNsnB7G4dEvrI7lSgN2EaE3qANBb7-q6cygbEom1NX7nz53LWQM/s400/DSC_0019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395248617608918130" border="0" /></a><br /><br />(Shelby was particularly impressed)...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpZkBUWKtSKhH7h5XTfTiYjucro3hkPbfP989DNnp8Plczurqbj7yY1U0SJEXdOGqIJrDZDf3f1z-qBsYd1aMLcUmM4DZyn2bJH_LpPsIIyVzhYo0BnZ5q2LwhKmhuBVkvq7hyJwUygY/s1600-h/DSC_0018.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpZkBUWKtSKhH7h5XTfTiYjucro3hkPbfP989DNnp8Plczurqbj7yY1U0SJEXdOGqIJrDZDf3f1z-qBsYd1aMLcUmM4DZyn2bJH_LpPsIIyVzhYo0BnZ5q2LwhKmhuBVkvq7hyJwUygY/s400/DSC_0018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395248622049703314" border="0" /></a><br />A litle time in the kiddie corral with horse swings made from recycled tires...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxO8AvzaVOb7V0_gtBAwaKNKNBy0ehuGLHhhflDDNaGRWPdsymtWLsR3lid8tSpOcW0kNvRUe-ULRjzzBRy76BOWV3vu4lXWQJMahC3cVdE9szEFcugB-nK1vFWtYT5x3KWDw-070570k/s1600-h/DSC_0039.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxO8AvzaVOb7V0_gtBAwaKNKNBy0ehuGLHhhflDDNaGRWPdsymtWLsR3lid8tSpOcW0kNvRUe-ULRjzzBRy76BOWV3vu4lXWQJMahC3cVdE9szEFcugB-nK1vFWtYT5x3KWDw-070570k/s400/DSC_0039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395250356001821250" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96cvSyBTRHlqykcdjzGTxNHDUuBceL4pFmBByCcKlULDhEgkbkL2QemrCwzQkJnqt85QfpsK2zYjIyJqlpA5QkdB0mOTO503In4bcklbPVHWc-IR3NXl2lV6wKBOVeEnAKuiac6U7vOs/s1600-h/DSC_0048.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96cvSyBTRHlqykcdjzGTxNHDUuBceL4pFmBByCcKlULDhEgkbkL2QemrCwzQkJnqt85QfpsK2zYjIyJqlpA5QkdB0mOTO503In4bcklbPVHWc-IR3NXl2lV6wKBOVeEnAKuiac6U7vOs/s400/DSC_0048.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395250362363310482" border="0" /></a><br />Several runs down the fastest slide on any farm for 100 miles..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmDuwhLmpfhyHoISeggsjZj9ZFrTN_hyx2QjbS_TBfyG5244VXeTdalhvybQBEI-3XykEB-AnioNK5q12h_2L8Np6lcx_cmrJU7B3QPV7ANR-fGvOlsf8AP_PZFvMRIfb1ZP3OFZze1A/s1600-h/DSC_0062.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmDuwhLmpfhyHoISeggsjZj9ZFrTN_hyx2QjbS_TBfyG5244VXeTdalhvybQBEI-3XykEB-AnioNK5q12h_2L8Np6lcx_cmrJU7B3QPV7ANR-fGvOlsf8AP_PZFvMRIfb1ZP3OFZze1A/s400/DSC_0062.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395250367909453378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEo6Pxknw3PdsTVJgpDZ_y_8UlWKl7TWWNTsoeS_3TBhZcdP72hyphenhyphenjwyqbLgu301_pJSBbHTV5Wx2pp3DbVxk43zF7Z80Bnonhqc75PFpSJQeb69hDFo6RQM5aNjv-GHAxknQ2yHLojEc/s1600-h/DSC_0067.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEo6Pxknw3PdsTVJgpDZ_y_8UlWKl7TWWNTsoeS_3TBhZcdP72hyphenhyphenjwyqbLgu301_pJSBbHTV5Wx2pp3DbVxk43zF7Z80Bnonhqc75PFpSJQeb69hDFo6RQM5aNjv-GHAxknQ2yHLojEc/s400/DSC_0067.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395250380355496034" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaIxhrupuu7vS_zL1FboH3iIZWetcHgMxujt1ehIWeruaFBNx68lHmST5Nn2a7o6esRZ_8a0ZP6XPC-VrVGkZ8nRHF_GuEN_QXpC8kUHbUx4pnr2-LwvLmIBC_GeONC6ordkyTOOYQ68/s1600-h/DSC_0063.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaIxhrupuu7vS_zL1FboH3iIZWetcHgMxujt1ehIWeruaFBNx68lHmST5Nn2a7o6esRZ_8a0ZP6XPC-VrVGkZ8nRHF_GuEN_QXpC8kUHbUx4pnr2-LwvLmIBC_GeONC6ordkyTOOYQ68/s400/DSC_0063.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395250376566087554" border="0" /></a><br />And then on to the corn maze<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdPk0UQwlazgf7oxvsnLLmc7EJdjdrTB1DZ-EQ9DTrT_BMK3wd_Kzcdej-yYPdTyiFRxsYWtHkyNBdPZckkNHbRKuDXio_g1CLO4F1mOevBo5m2_EXYvOwCXTp39mF3x0dCiFZI9fb1k/s1600-h/DSC_0078.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdPk0UQwlazgf7oxvsnLLmc7EJdjdrTB1DZ-EQ9DTrT_BMK3wd_Kzcdej-yYPdTyiFRxsYWtHkyNBdPZckkNHbRKuDXio_g1CLO4F1mOevBo5m2_EXYvOwCXTp39mF3x0dCiFZI9fb1k/s400/DSC_0078.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395252722715367698" border="0" /></a><br />But not just any little dinky corn maze. This one was massive and divided into three mazes of escalating length and difficulty.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH2jWkiiPbFOGX-VvUENrycUXO_b0NuTcwvwYs8ICsRlZQD4ORMGhrutKSxk5qhCzpxDM4t7coZGRv4mOWAAQtS3VRbAmYLK6plSsTabcGnvgRF9cjt6bar4sfYFx_8Gh28Ure1-6rkR8/s1600-h/maze2009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 169px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH2jWkiiPbFOGX-VvUENrycUXO_b0NuTcwvwYs8ICsRlZQD4ORMGhrutKSxk5qhCzpxDM4t7coZGRv4mOWAAQtS3VRbAmYLK6plSsTabcGnvgRF9cjt6bar4sfYFx_8Gh28Ure1-6rkR8/s400/maze2009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395252750369154914" border="0" /></a><br />Maze #1. We all went in together. We got a little separated. Bill and I got turned around and exited out the entrance, but within 10 minutes everyone was out and all was good.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMxcRdLj-2M1J6rpG2S7K5SeeGOskuD6ewKVSUO1Fmyus7QJY8eR3blN657Qy4WDCCj-BoEWzZXz2RrK1Q3yMHdGdxYTrkeLDQcVdNZaCdkVujAzwvJhJCVYpmtWmpieh4xFm6FUx9RY/s1600-h/DSC_0081.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMxcRdLj-2M1J6rpG2S7K5SeeGOskuD6ewKVSUO1Fmyus7QJY8eR3blN657Qy4WDCCj-BoEWzZXz2RrK1Q3yMHdGdxYTrkeLDQcVdNZaCdkVujAzwvJhJCVYpmtWmpieh4xFm6FUx9RY/s400/DSC_0081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395252734827049138" border="0" /></a><br />Maze #2. Potty break for the little ones so John went into the maze followed by Savannah and Shelby hand in hand with Bailey.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWj2phAKWL0dnxjK37y9Ir8ikLqMxsk6rvIIvPWnBMYUPA6hCl7aS9N-Fw17fUxm2cLW2TuAoF5qrrALU4tW6IDxqqQzOPwu1iXn92dUTfL_tu079QU-sz2U9tdey8LH4I79YX_FfS6hc/s1600-h/DSC_0082.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWj2phAKWL0dnxjK37y9Ir8ikLqMxsk6rvIIvPWnBMYUPA6hCl7aS9N-Fw17fUxm2cLW2TuAoF5qrrALU4tW6IDxqqQzOPwu1iXn92dUTfL_tu079QU-sz2U9tdey8LH4I79YX_FfS6hc/s400/DSC_0082.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395252737976466466" border="0" /></a><br />Five minutes later John came running out and we figured the girls would be right behind...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoj2URfcshZN-shoCncZiVePVnsb_sQitXx4nXGsGCwwRESjyh0B317lpMgGzvsfLfT05oFIkxPWvTmNijPOfJssTtYLL4DarcSaGYMEnWCeg02TQjTqpiX5wJ6nY4gXbcGnfCnczhEgw/s1600-h/DSC_0090.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoj2URfcshZN-shoCncZiVePVnsb_sQitXx4nXGsGCwwRESjyh0B317lpMgGzvsfLfT05oFIkxPWvTmNijPOfJssTtYLL4DarcSaGYMEnWCeg02TQjTqpiX5wJ6nY4gXbcGnfCnczhEgw/s400/DSC_0090.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395256028915790738" border="0" /></a><br />But it wasn't so. The minutes pass and we start to worry. We start asking others coming out if they saw the girls and no one had. So Bill and I head into the maze to see if we can find them, no luck. At about the 20 minute mark, Savannah calls on her cell phone. Thank goodness for a 10 year old having a cell phone. They somehow got separated from Shelby. Shelby was somewhere lost and alone and Savannah was with Bailey lost, scared and crying. I had Savannah yell at the top of the lungs and we couldn't hear her. The maze was that big. I was running through the maze in my new practical high heeled crocs yelling for them. I finally came across a lookout bridge and climbed it and low and behold I found Savannah on a lookout bridge in maze three. Only problem was none of the workers knew how to get to that bridge. It was off of the trail. We finally found one guy who knew exactly how to get to her. He ran through to get Savannah and Bailey and in the meantime Shelby had been found by a passerby in Maze 2. She was crying, distraught, and just happy to be back with everyone. About 30 minutes after the girls had gone in the maze, Savannah and Bailey were escorted out. Here's our hero...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_uSjaZbd_wEZi8rJxECtH9368TPj74WfbpUxphU9zTmELQXTtA2Yz9OR68JKxq-N2KaWQO-Fll7l8CltlIqtvlQ52wuzhq8FT3xPZ4e6fbZEE4lRzpeAr4BJWoBUEteeqGLHSTLk6b0/s1600-h/DSC_0095.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_uSjaZbd_wEZi8rJxECtH9368TPj74WfbpUxphU9zTmELQXTtA2Yz9OR68JKxq-N2KaWQO-Fll7l8CltlIqtvlQ52wuzhq8FT3xPZ4e6fbZEE4lRzpeAr4BJWoBUEteeqGLHSTLk6b0/s400/DSC_0095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395252743155165538" border="0" /></a><br />That was enough corn maze fun for one day so on to release some anxiety by shooting corn husks from a pressurized cannon....<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivDU0ajwk-ahYQdRYKgQC8H-wPv_U8C4EMIy0zZT6oFV9N-LHYaL6zb1xs46oEv2D1LzObhjlmxAEwCAxTrumjnqCQOhcNvZxDQyuPTcBavA5ZRlUCVRv0I_m0nXFfhlaan8-4Wq2BenU/s1600-h/DSC_0098.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivDU0ajwk-ahYQdRYKgQC8H-wPv_U8C4EMIy0zZT6oFV9N-LHYaL6zb1xs46oEv2D1LzObhjlmxAEwCAxTrumjnqCQOhcNvZxDQyuPTcBavA5ZRlUCVRv0I_m0nXFfhlaan8-4Wq2BenU/s400/DSC_0098.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395256031551959234" border="0" /></a><br />And playing in the maize...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JrvwuJbnQh4GlE-J9W8dfP67wD-owv6dSkJsT3xY_XSSmqijlI5WyCIaD8fxpUjcQtqS0T9ystwxTtpRNoiXxweX08ZIfe9kqvh1EjpOdxupnRfoX5Ul6pjzUcrb1lof7YhhDxzodyo/s1600-h/DSC_0126.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JrvwuJbnQh4GlE-J9W8dfP67wD-owv6dSkJsT3xY_XSSmqijlI5WyCIaD8fxpUjcQtqS0T9ystwxTtpRNoiXxweX08ZIfe9kqvh1EjpOdxupnRfoX5Ul6pjzUcrb1lof7YhhDxzodyo/s400/DSC_0126.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395256041640280466" border="0" /></a><br />By this time it was near closing time. Just enough time to pick our pumpkins...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriK8Nj0w_AGqhWBQbEuPFdodbZpsrgS5YDU-PZpopr9nUnhYiofoE698TwN-QT7BcfJzonwiPBiFuwiWNyIiE28uG_YNGJyiqsYqCbASDE-xoEapOOO9aYA5VryAXAontzbueDgOtQZU/s1600-h/DSC_0161.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriK8Nj0w_AGqhWBQbEuPFdodbZpsrgS5YDU-PZpopr9nUnhYiofoE698TwN-QT7BcfJzonwiPBiFuwiWNyIiE28uG_YNGJyiqsYqCbASDE-xoEapOOO9aYA5VryAXAontzbueDgOtQZU/s400/DSC_0161.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395256050398995554" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0RyV6g-HLTSDwfGWEpqZmcBoG3iU9O6v52pXQP5BHymgos_S_UQa_71RJddhKe_JMCbpWzaW86MwsLTw1Oi3oANBj2zB2t4lXrg5Zqx7SAJqgaDSu8agTq8VvesnQIKQQ1mnYVSYLys/s1600-h/DSC_0168.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0RyV6g-HLTSDwfGWEpqZmcBoG3iU9O6v52pXQP5BHymgos_S_UQa_71RJddhKe_JMCbpWzaW86MwsLTw1Oi3oANBj2zB2t4lXrg5Zqx7SAJqgaDSu8agTq8VvesnQIKQQ1mnYVSYLys/s400/DSC_0168.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395258392293860498" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiIAMdhXtsR1NgNIU9XMinUt8K4twt8zeVMacTOI9tobmxRu9iqswqP0Wq9Y-nVTumMAm4MU7hqkoeQzpMbxbVSh_m7vAItUnqDSCeHkFYjlYRguOgLZAdIGK9nXt8bOm6MrAu5PhLfaU/s1600-h/DSC_0180.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiIAMdhXtsR1NgNIU9XMinUt8K4twt8zeVMacTOI9tobmxRu9iqswqP0Wq9Y-nVTumMAm4MU7hqkoeQzpMbxbVSh_m7vAItUnqDSCeHkFYjlYRguOgLZAdIGK9nXt8bOm6MrAu5PhLfaU/s400/DSC_0180.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395258399491821634" border="0" /></a><br />And call it a day in our adventures at the farm.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJCkusPpsvRFgW8gidyL-QX6MZi5ZDbRHVLlS5i0zH_b0pRXv7BLR-KZGWr4WbVgAHYGhokFv_zV1nQ4p9SjF3jUXQO5LjKdG5mut_WdrWJS7eMiltiNZd6ULME_mI7SJEA-O8Zfj6_I/s1600-h/DSC_0123.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJCkusPpsvRFgW8gidyL-QX6MZi5ZDbRHVLlS5i0zH_b0pRXv7BLR-KZGWr4WbVgAHYGhokFv_zV1nQ4p9SjF3jUXQO5LjKdG5mut_WdrWJS7eMiltiNZd6ULME_mI7SJEA-O8Zfj6_I/s400/DSC_0123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395264549718700802" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0wyyp4NbsjW92BteaFMUQSPLfZfJcAw0CzGf5KpWI5JRp-OIziv6W_8N5BB_mwmcSEY7tPLDzkjhlJG3D9IZvWM0adF0C6qmFpSb4cD1Ga53v_zQyipkEBs_MQeUhdxPx08wkAWW9oE/s1600-h/DSC_0114.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0wyyp4NbsjW92BteaFMUQSPLfZfJcAw0CzGf5KpWI5JRp-OIziv6W_8N5BB_mwmcSEY7tPLDzkjhlJG3D9IZvWM0adF0C6qmFpSb4cD1Ga53v_zQyipkEBs_MQeUhdxPx08wkAWW9oE/s400/DSC_0114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395264543508548386" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfeUxJXY_HoxPCGljMeanuwGYnW5xbmTuY4y5nGj6pzx9F8qpNAQ6yWpc3KEzMfKFaE4mlBgAmzsEZtRGCci6HPFGBDZpTOIYWJ8g2thioMIl7pECDL-X9X32nkY9sf1j6_q37ytT3S7s/s1600-h/DSC_0014.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfeUxJXY_HoxPCGljMeanuwGYnW5xbmTuY4y5nGj6pzx9F8qpNAQ6yWpc3KEzMfKFaE4mlBgAmzsEZtRGCci6HPFGBDZpTOIYWJ8g2thioMIl7pECDL-X9X32nkY9sf1j6_q37ytT3S7s/s400/DSC_0014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395258415641222370" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQh94ujXj60JTRAiSBpoVj5WfWC-5Tfg6h1Iad5NyQaEHwrYT7ddBdYuE8muzE4ZfaGbonhQB7hBm579AxuIJTIK9wuf5rsE_oEeKhmNetOZEBE3eRYxuLqgvq1p3PwKetkq0hMu2V4E/s1600-h/DSC_0012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQh94ujXj60JTRAiSBpoVj5WfWC-5Tfg6h1Iad5NyQaEHwrYT7ddBdYuE8muzE4ZfaGbonhQB7hBm579AxuIJTIK9wuf5rsE_oEeKhmNetOZEBE3eRYxuLqgvq1p3PwKetkq0hMu2V4E/s400/DSC_0012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395258409415413426" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_BTJfWfQ0tOcfZU5rBBsU5zWSgjQ8kcG9TtlTMIt4ixx9bVgBJ_d8oHf2KYUnfH2x_RKtfu6lEcao3E-hIqiPKaqE9G4Xf-z-xPXZmt1O2SCeAPV_2Mx1adr9OTugyNtSsHKggXNgik/s1600-h/DSC_0177.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_BTJfWfQ0tOcfZU5rBBsU5zWSgjQ8kcG9TtlTMIt4ixx9bVgBJ_d8oHf2KYUnfH2x_RKtfu6lEcao3E-hIqiPKaqE9G4Xf-z-xPXZmt1O2SCeAPV_2Mx1adr9OTugyNtSsHKggXNgik/s400/DSC_0177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395258407010500082" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4uJFIpRszOx5S25xAdr9Q0R-8WYO8MDopXpfkRKTpEmKNKViFtPqW7aszTQGbB_cEiEozSmvc6cBcEF0Xn3ijP4CPgJowIVuHzLvK_-vTrxQ4HaRdpStaqQWhcutbJjd8rjXERy0r_s/s1600-h/DSC_0133.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4uJFIpRszOx5S25xAdr9Q0R-8WYO8MDopXpfkRKTpEmKNKViFtPqW7aszTQGbB_cEiEozSmvc6cBcEF0Xn3ijP4CPgJowIVuHzLvK_-vTrxQ4HaRdpStaqQWhcutbJjd8rjXERy0r_s/s400/DSC_0133.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395256042949476450" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr5-9YEmDqtBWoeb_STIfom4uIv8tluwX0p2yUQ59qAov5UFXZumZNOUVkPseGF8wutkIp6-IpeP01UaVf-WtY_zgGc8Q1SzOAL6fL3Zorac4i8stBfIJnKvZAuFU7Jo5mAaBL1-L5m4c/s1600-h/DSC_0023.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr5-9YEmDqtBWoeb_STIfom4uIv8tluwX0p2yUQ59qAov5UFXZumZNOUVkPseGF8wutkIp6-IpeP01UaVf-WtY_zgGc8Q1SzOAL6fL3Zorac4i8stBfIJnKvZAuFU7Jo5mAaBL1-L5m4c/s400/DSC_0023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395261935398158578" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sWXQVh-5qFHqNlsfGi37TItgFjmZlxLQ_YI265-YGi1yyzf30C5CHSQ8m49ezQWY5VrOR3KJlhN0AVezMYsq6jONEa6LLouwBERB9BjdDkYoFLpKKUtJuCfjfPa-ePO4fE9PEogp2PU/s1600-h/DSC_0025.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sWXQVh-5qFHqNlsfGi37TItgFjmZlxLQ_YI265-YGi1yyzf30C5CHSQ8m49ezQWY5VrOR3KJlhN0AVezMYsq6jONEa6LLouwBERB9BjdDkYoFLpKKUtJuCfjfPa-ePO4fE9PEogp2PU/s400/DSC_0025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395261947532106530" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkFy9A2P7m_n3j1w7g_byzMWg00zczETWltLaVWm5OgCipfGBTlGw7fhXX37BatXQfRdKplXOArBKzTdekA4R-zNTsLttATySQlY1mrePJYo0D7QcUoH_q1-wzr-w81WE1ozIxhMQ8Iw/s1600-h/DSC_0024.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkFy9A2P7m_n3j1w7g_byzMWg00zczETWltLaVWm5OgCipfGBTlGw7fhXX37BatXQfRdKplXOArBKzTdekA4R-zNTsLttATySQlY1mrePJYo0D7QcUoH_q1-wzr-w81WE1ozIxhMQ8Iw/s400/DSC_0024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395261942987679922" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaaTLJVmx4J84bCsYgAXV-x2qcjxEsPSBS2foxQPwQGvirRdVvPIxN1vLSSoV48jd-oV2nZ18jVhr-kLAGaSxGcW0Y_HXEPmu-9KksUEuUC35MUaVvgUwzEj0PQCmP0tI4mClNnxHdGU/s1600-h/DSC_0027.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaaTLJVmx4J84bCsYgAXV-x2qcjxEsPSBS2foxQPwQGvirRdVvPIxN1vLSSoV48jd-oV2nZ18jVhr-kLAGaSxGcW0Y_HXEPmu-9KksUEuUC35MUaVvgUwzEj0PQCmP0tI4mClNnxHdGU/s400/DSC_0027.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395262885943805394" border="0" /></a>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-73108335709587877802009-10-07T15:00:00.002-04:002009-10-07T15:11:42.839-04:00What no parent wants to hearLast night Reagan and I had a conversation:<br /><br />Reagan: I don't have any friends<br />Me: What are you talking about? You have lots of friends. Everyone likes you.<br />Reagan: Then why won't they play with me?<br /><br />Ugh! Just crush me. Spear my heart and take it out with a fork. This was something I hoped I'd never have to hear. No parent wants to hear that their child is being picked on, doesn't belong, or doesn't have any friends.<br /><br />This bothered me all night. I couldn't wait to get to school in the morning to talk to her teacher and see what was going on. She's only been at her school a few weeks but as far as I could tell she was transitioning just fine.<br /><br />When I got to school I told her teacher what Reagan said. Her teacher almost laughed and said, "Reagan? Reagan clicked with everyone immediately. She's always playing with someone. She's got lots of friends here."<br /><br />It turns out Reagan was just getting a little homesick for her old friends and was missing them. I feel bad that she misses her old friends, but drew a heavy sigh of relief that all is well in her new school.<br /><br />Let's hope it is a very long time before we have that conversation again. In fact, how about never?-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-59681913522213412632009-09-30T20:44:00.002-04:002009-09-30T20:52:59.098-04:00Sick babyBailey came down with the flu recently. Not one to cry, she just sat still in her most pitiful pout that she could muster. She missed her entire first week at her new school as her temperature reached as high as 103.7 at one point.<br /><br />Poor baby!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegmJHyhLP45hhOI6hB00MiVQobpiUKdvn8ODUQ8Lg4EvKNEUfmh_T7IZSWXOd2UI8Ogf5AoG5iMISTmPiCtvW2Bp7lK51ZWj1vtS9DJJ0I0So2NwPsQFT6RCe1R5mV8nd4B757czmsw8/s1600-h/DSC_0777.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegmJHyhLP45hhOI6hB00MiVQobpiUKdvn8ODUQ8Lg4EvKNEUfmh_T7IZSWXOd2UI8Ogf5AoG5iMISTmPiCtvW2Bp7lK51ZWj1vtS9DJJ0I0So2NwPsQFT6RCe1R5mV8nd4B757czmsw8/s400/DSC_0777.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387427960345687282" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxOvspEoBaSfRAI4A5yWebyNNlz5m6DNkhCDTA7pq1FluurYjxYJ7oRmKktSOasBch-EIgP6-BwOddQoY2kLGDQvKEqa362KDOokAFLgPhvk86SJTWeXk6s7_f1rxW3HsLwFNxj7U45w/s1600-h/DSC_0774.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxOvspEoBaSfRAI4A5yWebyNNlz5m6DNkhCDTA7pq1FluurYjxYJ7oRmKktSOasBch-EIgP6-BwOddQoY2kLGDQvKEqa362KDOokAFLgPhvk86SJTWeXk6s7_f1rxW3HsLwFNxj7U45w/s400/DSC_0774.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387427954897992962" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTL9r1U4zrZXMt_AgCrFePH0uGT67TWtzvrfS-LULpf4DyyLjeYZYStqh8ILGkQvWGLIEtc3HA5WtfH-tu93pADrFXaQoFa-ufLfq4bsMjTyZEFuVnteUgfk-w0KQd5TxL3g-68fkr5ZQ/s1600-h/DSC_0770.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTL9r1U4zrZXMt_AgCrFePH0uGT67TWtzvrfS-LULpf4DyyLjeYZYStqh8ILGkQvWGLIEtc3HA5WtfH-tu93pADrFXaQoFa-ufLfq4bsMjTyZEFuVnteUgfk-w0KQd5TxL3g-68fkr5ZQ/s400/DSC_0770.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387427946110659266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4wgdQvQ7fmidFOdBj4QOprCK0HBzidzgxwMMaAbYEKEgctj46S90AHjcQBD5XhqulIu6Nz0JmKcwkHQTwNo3jXOoX1w0t7E_4Ykycu83JNGx3ICfAv8WtKauVNu8AYJtrucoTQ6282g/s1600-h/DSC_0768.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4wgdQvQ7fmidFOdBj4QOprCK0HBzidzgxwMMaAbYEKEgctj46S90AHjcQBD5XhqulIu6Nz0JmKcwkHQTwNo3jXOoX1w0t7E_4Ykycu83JNGx3ICfAv8WtKauVNu8AYJtrucoTQ6282g/s400/DSC_0768.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387427924683121058" border="0" /></a>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-34423834314274032872009-09-30T20:34:00.004-04:002009-09-30T20:44:30.240-04:00Changing TimesWe recently made a decision to change schools with the girls. We've loved where they have been but we haven't loved the hefty monthly bill and the long commute. So the girls have started at a new school that is just minutes from the house. So far, they are quite happy and that makes us happy.<br /><br />Reagan's favorite part about her new school? She doesn't have to wear uniforms anymore. She's been picking out her clothes every morning and loves the opportunity to do so.<br /><br />Here are the girls in their last day of uniforms. Here's to new schools, new friends, and new memories.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieoT-N2fidE2nAuXvRZ_ykBStoxyHHkSrsQCWu4MVlS-M1MSrCLM7DEqsAW6mibWIlSOabrYn_bceSJ4gphPADEjaZWJHQLwQBb048QgnQWBNnuVyt6owLwkRzdcbnnDyKYAf9M-cAhxc/s1600-h/DSC_0767.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieoT-N2fidE2nAuXvRZ_ykBStoxyHHkSrsQCWu4MVlS-M1MSrCLM7DEqsAW6mibWIlSOabrYn_bceSJ4gphPADEjaZWJHQLwQBb048QgnQWBNnuVyt6owLwkRzdcbnnDyKYAf9M-cAhxc/s400/DSC_0767.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387425475210772674" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlk7Pdt336J6jnRseDU2CMFXm9BHbG73DW2j7HtH5SOp-ykckzb7V8tW8wFij3TGkNXvM8Pb-Nx3bNRKDIAg35v9KDx5YJWaTmfLcCAOkcTHA-dPKy864K1bt4m2wRThMIc4BdrfYldLg/s1600-h/DSC_0750.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlk7Pdt336J6jnRseDU2CMFXm9BHbG73DW2j7HtH5SOp-ykckzb7V8tW8wFij3TGkNXvM8Pb-Nx3bNRKDIAg35v9KDx5YJWaTmfLcCAOkcTHA-dPKy864K1bt4m2wRThMIc4BdrfYldLg/s400/DSC_0750.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387425469929246802" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNTke0D72vK-yfnQ_92UbfptzQVh4P8qzg0gShHY3didH63BLwKe3aQKjG27ujpAfVfMvfAThUiGNkbSUHc5mA5q4J0In29jORnCf0Ip2okqz9GQlpDMtgxZ7nQ7vSNYDexa7NyxV3b0/s1600-h/DSC_0749.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNTke0D72vK-yfnQ_92UbfptzQVh4P8qzg0gShHY3didH63BLwKe3aQKjG27ujpAfVfMvfAThUiGNkbSUHc5mA5q4J0In29jORnCf0Ip2okqz9GQlpDMtgxZ7nQ7vSNYDexa7NyxV3b0/s400/DSC_0749.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387425459005318690" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7tS0k-Z4XcOlnbjPYwUO0dvzJVu-jwHsltJxanI_G9_S6uNEATonQmPbgi-DlcGPQtbYrkibodJnQ9TBv0xcD6KGqjj5MA1AulH5IlZvhk94-OQxW8ozX9f5LXetQ_lCeS6CCsuARs0/s1600-h/DSC_0746.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7tS0k-Z4XcOlnbjPYwUO0dvzJVu-jwHsltJxanI_G9_S6uNEATonQmPbgi-DlcGPQtbYrkibodJnQ9TBv0xcD6KGqjj5MA1AulH5IlZvhk94-OQxW8ozX9f5LXetQ_lCeS6CCsuARs0/s400/DSC_0746.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387425449317763858" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXnjlCG1AzoaeuXQ22zcej66z6dfhHkY8k8XzRIsdUk-ge_a1cPCVmxFzUP_vs_Nz359XBPPF3Vp8R6OICcANcODQxq3Z-m3lNQgRu3kYUoKalCthV9pFAB-fwMICtz-z3QEZSGOk2OM/s1600-h/DSC_0744.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXnjlCG1AzoaeuXQ22zcej66z6dfhHkY8k8XzRIsdUk-ge_a1cPCVmxFzUP_vs_Nz359XBPPF3Vp8R6OICcANcODQxq3Z-m3lNQgRu3kYUoKalCthV9pFAB-fwMICtz-z3QEZSGOk2OM/s400/DSC_0744.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387425448718559618" border="0" /></a>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-56283221491594073522009-09-22T20:17:00.008-04:002009-09-22T22:35:17.401-04:00It All Started With Two Pink Lines and a ComputerFour years ago, I found out I was pregnant with Reagan. Daunted at the news and some ensuing complications, I did what many modern women do-- I took to the internet. I thought I was just looking for the answers to "morning sickness cures." While I never did find the answers to curing morning sickness, I found something much greater--friends.<br /><br />It started when I stumbled across a "mommy board" where all of the women were expecting babies at the same time as me. Many were experiencing the same problems as me. Many had the same questions as me. I can't pinpoint the moment where this mommy board turned. Turned from being a resource of anonymous women providing answers, to being a conglomeration of wonderful friends providing support and comfort. But it did happen. And over the course of four years the desire to go from being friends through a network of fibre cables to being friends in the flesh became quite great. So much so, that some of us finally decided to meet.<br /><br />Over the weekend, six of us from across the country converged in New York City to meet in person for the first time. I wasn't the least bit nervous. Through the boards and then through blogs, I felt as though I had gotten to know these women quite well. They were at a distinct disadvantage with me, however. I hadn't blogged all year so they didn't really know what had been going on with me and over time I'm sure the memory of me had faded a bit. After all, I was still only pixels and memories to them at this point. Nonetheless, they still wanted to meet me and I them.<br /><br />In short, it was a fabulous weekend. The trip was everything I had hoped it would be and more. The women were everything I had come to know them to be and more.<br /><br />I don't want to take away from the great posts that my new "real life" friends have already written, so let me point you their way so you can check out their take on the trips in first person view. It's interesting to me that all of them wrote very different posts about the same weekend. They all wrote their posts with focuses from their own strengths and their personality. Had I not have met them in person and been part of the weekend, why they each wrote with a different slant would have been totally lost on me. I love that I've now been able to delve into that aspect of them and see even more into their posts.<br /><ul><li><a href="http://joannasmommyblog.blogspot.com/2009/09/theres-also-often-overlooked-good-side.html">Joanna</a> wrote a fabulous post about the trip and the good, human side of the internet and summed it up beautifully as "Jelly Bellies for the soul." It was a fitting post coming from a woman who is even smarter and wittier than her posts allow her to be, and that is saying much.</li><li><a href="http://crawfordhouse.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-friend-meet-up.html">Lindsay</a> wrote a great post about where we went, what we did, and how we ate, shopped, and twittered ourselves across the city. Lindsay is a planner and an organizer. She sent out spreadsheets and Word documents about our trip plans and emergency contacts. Can I just say just how much I love that?<br /></li><li><a href="http://jonandlaura.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-went-to-new-york-and-all-i-got-was.html">Laura </a>is the photographer I hope to be one day. She took some great pictures and applied some skillful editing to make us all look good. Her post is loaded with some of those great photos.</li><li><a href="http://londonreese.blogspot.com/2009/09/let-it-be-known.html">London</a> wrote of our "shenanigans" and conversations. London has a flair for writing and words and it was only fitting that she would focus on that aspect.<br /></li><li><a href="http://xaelen.blogspot.com/">Rita</a> wrote--well I'm sure Rita has written her post in her head a dozen times (As she says she often does, and I admit to doing too. I intend to rectify this I swear!). Since Rita hasn't published her post, I'll speculate on what Rita has swimming in her head. I'm guessing Rita would write a post focusing more on people's character and personality. Rita herself is a person booming with character and personality, as are the other women. But in Rita's case, it seems to come easiest for her to know exactly who she is and to be precisely that.<br /></li></ul>I think the descriptions of each person in the above posts were quite accurate so I won't repeat those. Allow me to sum up how I feel about all of these women by saying that although we have different political, ideological, and whatever views, we still have much in common. They are all women I greatly respect and admire. They are all smart, friendly, compassionate, funny women. I laughed this weekend and let go like I hadn't in ages. It was like meeting old friends from school and just picking up where we left off years ago. They are all women I would choose to have in my circle of friends if they lived close to me. But since they don't, I'll have to continue to know them through Facebook, Twitter, and their blogs. Then, when we meet again next year, we'll just once again pick up where we left off.<br /><br />It was such a wonderful experience that I hope to meet more of my online friends in the future. It's truly amazing to me that this whole weekend started its making four years ago as nothing more than a search for answers after seeing two little pink lines on a pregnancy test. And know I have the pleasure of calling five amazing women...friends.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jjciWep_BnitXlj0WwGhNhTn_0A68MO-5uc_c6y1amOy9ozRgAbLzQDt61kTAjvdZsgrDzU1KckMObauWbOAYaFAa7uRt1i_NlGJVkp2KKWrIcV2IrwrvEuYlVkrQC4y_SV_qBlFZx0/s1600-h/IMG_8751.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jjciWep_BnitXlj0WwGhNhTn_0A68MO-5uc_c6y1amOy9ozRgAbLzQDt61kTAjvdZsgrDzU1KckMObauWbOAYaFAa7uRt1i_NlGJVkp2KKWrIcV2IrwrvEuYlVkrQC4y_SV_qBlFZx0/s400/IMG_8751.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384474096601009506" border="0" /></a>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-72850168213589730842009-09-10T23:20:00.002-04:002009-09-11T08:31:46.665-04:00My 9/11 StoryI appreciate the many emails, comments, and concerns I've received over the last several months regarding my absence here. Please know that I appreciated every one of them. You all made me feel loved. I will be back to posting VERY, VERY soon, I promise. But first, let me retell my story I published last year of my 9/11 experience.<br /><br />May we always remember.<br />---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />It was September 10, 2001. As the plane made its approach into the Newark airport, I did my usual routine. Looking out the window, I looked for the Twin towers of the World Trade Center. They were always so easy to spot on the edge of the skyline. From there, it was a straight shot down to find the little green spot that was the Statue of Liberty. I never got used to how tiny Lady Liberty was against the massive skyscrapers. The pictures and stories of her always seemed to make her seem much bigger in proportion than she really is.<br /><br />I found my Twin Towers, found the Statue of Liberty. Check, and check, my ritual was done and I could go back to my latest James Patterson book. It was never really worth the time, but it was the only thing left in the newsstand selection of 20 books I hadn't read.<br /><br />I picked up my rental car, drove to my hotel and checked in. I considered going into the city for dinner. I was just across the river from Manhattan and had nothing to do until I started teaching my class the following morning. But I decided I was tired of the city and same old same old and ordered room service and worked on reading my book.<br /><br />Morning came and my day started just like the other 600 classes I had started before. I greeted students, made sure the computers were setup properly, familiarized myself with the facility, and made sure I knew who my contact was if an issue arose. At 8:30 the class promptly began and I started my introduction that at this point was a memorized speech.<br /><br />Around 8:45, a student's phone rang. I made a mental note to make sure I moved up my "please silence your phones, put pagers on stun, etc." speech and glared at the student as she took the call in the middle of the class. I was hoping she saw my evil eye. Only as I was giving her the evil eye, I was noticing something in her eye--tears and panic. I was caught off guard and paused to look at this student and tried to imagine what sort of family emergency has just happened. She put down her phone and with a trembling voice and trying to hold back her tears said, "Something has happened. There was an explosion or something at the World Trade Center."<br /><br />With the vast numbers of people that work at the WTC and being just across the river, I don't believe there was a single student that didn't also panic. No one in that classroom was without a loved one, a neighbor, or a friend that didn't work there and was immediately concerned for their safety. We stopped class while everyone started making phone calls, getting on the internet, going outside to see if we could see anything. Details were sketchy but it was clear that something big had happened. Then we find out it was a plane that crashed through. What a terrible accident, how could that have happened? Wait! There's a second plane! It just crashed into the other tower! This wasn't an accident! Our nation is being attacked and I'm sitting 10 miles from the epicenter.<br /><br />We dismiss class and tell people to go home and try to find out what has happened to all of their loved ones. The phones were completely overloaded and everyone was having trouble getting through. My sister, Tara, was the first to get a message to me. Her message was, "Hey! I was just checking to make sure you are ok. I don't know where in the world your are today, but given your history of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I'm guessing you are in NY. Call us and let us know." I was finally able to get through to her and to Mom to say yes, I was in NY, but I was fine. That didn't stop my Mom from being near hysterical but I assured her I was ok and not in danger. Was I in danger? I didn't really know. I still didn't know entirely what was going on. My statement meant I was alive and ok at the moment but I wasn't going to tell her that distinction.<br /><br />In my stupor I go back to my hotel to watch the news and surf the net to figure out what is going on. On the way I could see the smoke pouring from the towers. I wasn't close enough to see the towers. I couldn't handle looking at them yet anyway. I learn the Pentagon was also attacked and there's word of potentially some heroes that ensured a fourth plane wouldn't take another target. Then, right there on my TV, it happened. I watched the first building buckle like a house of cards. I began sobbing thinking of all of my students and their loved ones. There were husbands, wives, sisters, even children in the daycare. How many were lost? Shortly after I see the second building collapse and I can no longer sit in my room.<br /><br />I got into my car. I drove down towards the towers. When they were in clear view of the massive black pouring of smoke, I pulled over. Right there on the interstate I pulled over to the emergency lane and with everyone else and got out of my car and stood along the wall. There were no more towers to see, only smoke. I wish I had paid more attention to them yesterday. I wish I had known that would be the last time I would set site to the grand buildings. I would have looked longer, I would have gone into the city and taken another tour of them, I would have done a lot of things different.<br /><br />I don't know how long I stood there crying just watching, sobbing, being numb. Emergency vehicles were constantly roaring down the interstate behind me, heading for the scene. Every time I heard their siren it jolted me out of my trance for just a second. Finally I put my thoughts together and decided I would do the only thing I could do, I would go donate blood. Surely there were many injured survivors that would need blood. I could do that. I found out a location of a Red Cross. Apparently half the city had the same idea. I was turned away as they couldn't handle any more donations. Defeated and unable to help in any way I could fathom, I went back to my hotel.<br /><br />When I got to my hotel, the scene had changed. They were using the lobby as a makeshift treatment facility for emergency workers suffering from smoke inhalation and other minor injuries. Camera crews from neighboring cities had checked in and set up shop. I went to my room and cried again. I had never felt so alone. It was too far to drive home and the airports were shut down tight. I was stuck. I had no one I knew, no one who loved me to hug me and tell me everything would be ok. I cried myself to sleep.<br /><br />A few hours later I woke with a start. Had I left the iron on this morning? What is that burning smell? I checked the iron. It was unplugged and put away thanks to the housekeeping service. Was it my curling iron? No, it was off too. I stepped out of my room and still smelled that wretched smell that burned my nose. My heart was heavy as I finally processed what that smell was. It wasn't the curling iron, or the iron, or the air system. It was the smell of the burning of two giant skyscrapers, two planes, and all of the people for whom it became a tomb. It was the smell of death. It is a smell that didn't escape me the rest of the time I was there and a smell that still plagues me to this day. This was the most vivid of my memories.<br /><br />The next morning I showed up for class. I figured it had been canceled but no one was able to get through to tell me otherwise. I had nothing else to do anyway. To my surprise, six others showed up too. I learned that many in that class lost loved ones. It wasn't the news I wanted to hear. But there were six out of 24 that had shown up, that had all friends and family accounted for, and they wanted to learn. So I taught. I finally had a purpose in all this madness. I would teach my class and they would help me get through this.<br /><br />Normally I teach a class by using humor. I skipped the jokes that week. I wasn't in a funny mood and it seemed inappropriate to laugh anyway. I bought them pizzas during lunch and held to every minute of class as precious time for me to have someone to talk to, people to listen to, people who would keep my mind off of what happened 10 miles away.<br /><br />When the class ended that Friday, I was fortunate enough to be able to make the very first flight out of Newark when it reopened that day. It was times like these that I was glad I put in over 200,000 miles a year on Delta. They saw to it I was going home as soon as I could. My stepdad had been working in Princeton about 45 minutes away. My Mom begged and pleaded with me to drive home with him instead of getting on the plane. I calculated the amount of time I would have to spend with my stepdad in the car and decided I'd rather take my chances with the terrorists in the sky.<br /><br />Although the airport was nearly empty, it took me four hours to get to my gate. They rifled through everything I owned while it was open on a table for any passerby to view my panties and my other contents. They took my tweezers, my favorite diamond chiseled tweezers that could search and pluck any stray eyebrow hair. They confiscated my water. They made me turn my computer off and on half a dozen times. But I wasn't complaining. I figured all of these precautions weren't going to stop another terrorist attack, but it still made me somehow feel safer nonetheless.<br /><br />My plane left that Friday afternoon. Just four days after the world had changed. As the flight took off, it flew in the familiar pattern and over near the Twin Towers and Lady Liberty we go. Only this time there would be no towers to begin my ritual of finding The Statue. Instead, the smoke still billowed as black and strong as ever where the buildings once stood. No one spoke as the flight flew past. Tears glistened in everyone's eyes. I paid my respects, said a prayer, and wondered what life was going to be like after today.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-83854278322063645022009-03-05T20:56:00.004-05:002009-03-05T21:13:40.908-05:00Snow DaySunday we had snow. Ok, it was only about 1/2" and it never even stuck on the roads. But it was the first time either of the girls ever saw snow. Fortunately, they didn't seem to be too terribly anxious to go get out in it. They were content watching it fall from the warmth of inside the house.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91fyJlDaf6U8H9YWg4_PpWpNXx-eEYjiOrlWzRiCzvKZIoBC_ijT8OIKDTa_xox3dfNWJfYJbuhTLfb-9YWyj_dFhTSNUG4Ub3Rp0aZ4nVDVHN2Az02aHmU5MSVgiKdhHVi1-cUHu5l0/s1600-h/DSC_0156.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91fyJlDaf6U8H9YWg4_PpWpNXx-eEYjiOrlWzRiCzvKZIoBC_ijT8OIKDTa_xox3dfNWJfYJbuhTLfb-9YWyj_dFhTSNUG4Ub3Rp0aZ4nVDVHN2Az02aHmU5MSVgiKdhHVi1-cUHu5l0/s400/DSC_0156.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309891925297751026" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaF-4ifjoz0grGl4aT383h2Zdg8HBxg4xOzV9-kgf74JH-KHHnUn60QxSn7yMcNk0Tm2oufbqqbD-aFNZNr5pY2aoRrjw0b8v2-aaVuodxTq7MR1ioYvv5q9r9JJBKSDrfpQIWlTbqlVk/s1600-h/DSC_0149.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaF-4ifjoz0grGl4aT383h2Zdg8HBxg4xOzV9-kgf74JH-KHHnUn60QxSn7yMcNk0Tm2oufbqqbD-aFNZNr5pY2aoRrjw0b8v2-aaVuodxTq7MR1ioYvv5q9r9JJBKSDrfpQIWlTbqlVk/s400/DSC_0149.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309891778269009490" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAZ1bttU5mtrjG8vbFEHQQP-d4V0VE6BRMq3KKNRDY6BYxAvxlfhyYzocMXeledEK7B02cRdINkWqynMoHzUm02WE7op6N8IxYYa8F4Um4N8MM3bjkJtmjXtgKqwm7490neIOwOl_trk/s1600-h/DSC_0143.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAZ1bttU5mtrjG8vbFEHQQP-d4V0VE6BRMq3KKNRDY6BYxAvxlfhyYzocMXeledEK7B02cRdINkWqynMoHzUm02WE7op6N8IxYYa8F4Um4N8MM3bjkJtmjXtgKqwm7490neIOwOl_trk/s400/DSC_0143.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309891770474404178" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYTa5ITQFsFD8bqbtAX4YPYtubXR9tfomHUyY4IgFHqpm6j9ujP6QONRLmODLvM60Iyz3_wKGBpbiQ23XlcizE3HlRmaiSp0mnZIxpmKWhyphenhyphenaXDugtSTUUwqYWuoXhR4iYUNPoaBkXlQ/s1600-h/DSC_0131.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYTa5ITQFsFD8bqbtAX4YPYtubXR9tfomHUyY4IgFHqpm6j9ujP6QONRLmODLvM60Iyz3_wKGBpbiQ23XlcizE3HlRmaiSp0mnZIxpmKWhyphenhyphenaXDugtSTUUwqYWuoXhR4iYUNPoaBkXlQ/s400/DSC_0131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309891760985242386" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4HsMpCnSI-YRd2fHp2TPJy_NRHDHPQpFArw9BQzYZFXgBJ2R-H_Rfdz4JwbgxonHTCQmEuZ3xNAPBVow0RVW0rfkliOyxxC5zJMY_AtFkGtkObWz1W3Jq6oDS7RwPbC7Vrbx-cEwQUhI/s1600-h/DSC_0128.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4HsMpCnSI-YRd2fHp2TPJy_NRHDHPQpFArw9BQzYZFXgBJ2R-H_Rfdz4JwbgxonHTCQmEuZ3xNAPBVow0RVW0rfkliOyxxC5zJMY_AtFkGtkObWz1W3Jq6oDS7RwPbC7Vrbx-cEwQUhI/s400/DSC_0128.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309891758589829794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB5WJtBPncp6yen-A9nUgoTn1qQNhtPsxcwiuCfAOyKRWzX7wQ3iEP4cb3Qxp1mAV7mjgMT-LQOeuBop3LxLTLA95Hc1EvcqYoBKgnH6ScV0gW_e01a8sscy3Qdnoz0ANHzvtROgZ6Euc/s1600-h/DSC_0125.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB5WJtBPncp6yen-A9nUgoTn1qQNhtPsxcwiuCfAOyKRWzX7wQ3iEP4cb3Qxp1mAV7mjgMT-LQOeuBop3LxLTLA95Hc1EvcqYoBKgnH6ScV0gW_e01a8sscy3Qdnoz0ANHzvtROgZ6Euc/s400/DSC_0125.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309891749103475122" border="0" /></a>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-39763454286980865912009-02-28T09:36:00.003-05:002009-02-28T09:52:24.256-05:00Master of ManipulationReagan has long known how to work it to get out of trouble or to get what she wants. I have to admit to having been duped by a two year old many times. Here are some of her more recent attempts:<br /><br />Last night in the car she got a package of fruit snacks. She was supposed to have shared with Bailey but scarfed them all down before she even handed the first one to her. When I heard Bailey mad, I told Reagan, "Reagan, give Bailey a fruit snack." Reagan said, "They are all gone." I shot her an evil eye. Then the dialog continues:<br /><br />Reagan: I didn't give Bailey any fruit snack.<br />Me: I know<br />Reagan: Mom, I didn't give Bailey any fruit snack.<br />Me: Ok.<br />Reagan: Can you give me some fruit snack so I can give some to Bailey?<br />Me: Think I'm going to fall for that trick a fifth time?<br /><br />Earlier in the week when Bill told Reagan to give Bailey a fruit snack, Reagan took the whole pack and shoved all of them in her mouth at once. She had fruit snacks falling out of her mouth while she said, "they are all gone" and holds up the empty package.<br /><br />Then, this morning, Reagan acted out and I put her into timeout. She walked into the corner and stood there for about two seconds then turned around:<br /><br />Reagan: I'm sorry momma (she starts to walk away to go play)<br />Me: Thank you for your apology, but you are still in timeout<br />Reagan: (fussing as she goes back into the corner, pause, pause, turns around)<br />Reagan: Momma, I need to come tell you something<br />Me: You can tell me when you are done with timeout. Turn around.<br />Reagan: Momma, may I come tell you something?<br />Me: What do you need to tell me?<br />Reagan: I need to tell you I'm sorry<br />Me: Ok, thank you<br />Reagan: May I go play now?<br />Me: No, you are still in timeout<br /><br />I hope Bailey doesn't learn all of these tricks this early.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-57503789227374472292009-02-28T08:31:00.001-05:002009-02-28T08:33:48.465-05:00Out of the Mouths of BabesI got this meme from Facebook but wanted to include it here...<br /><br /><div>This is probably meant for children a little older, but I asked these questions of my daughter Reagan, who is 2. She gave some interesting responses...<br /><br />1. What is something mom always says to you?<br />princess<br /><br />2. What makes mom happy?<br />when i smile<br /><br />3. What makes mom sad?<br />mommy is sick<br /><br />4. How does your mom make you laugh?<br />funny<br /><br />5. What was your mom like as a child?<br />mommy's not a baby! bailey is a baby and i'm a big girl!<br /><br />6. How old is your mom?<br />ummmm....2. no. i'm 2 and you're 5 and bailey is 1. daddy is 10.<br /><br />7. How tall is your mom?<br />6<br /><br />8. What is her favorite thing to do?<br />mermaid! (yeah, I don't know what that is either)<br /><br />9. What does your mom do when you're not around?<br />bailey<br /><br />10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?<br />huh?<br /><br />11. What is your mom really good at?<br />i hear a birdie in a tree<br /><br />12. What is your mom not very good at?<br />sick<br /><br />13. What does your mom do for a job?<br />computer<br /><br />14.What is your mom's favorite food?<br />celery (I hate celery, where did that come from?)<br /><br />15.What makes you proud of your mom?<br />happy<br /><br />16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?<br />tinkerbell<br /><br />17. What do you and your mom do together?<br />happy yoga<br /><br />18. How are you and your mom the same?<br />two eyes<br /><br />19. How are you and your mom different?<br />ummmm.....<br /><br />20. How do you know your mom loves you?<br />big hug and a little hug<br /><br />21. What does your mom like most about your dad?<br />happy<br /><br />22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?<br />ummm...in a castle. and target. can we go to the grocery store and get a cookie?</div>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-25321234050434324352009-02-26T16:23:00.004-05:002009-02-26T16:42:14.151-05:00ConfessionSaturday afternoon Bill came down with the chills and then went downhill from there. Sunday was his turn to sleep in, so about 12:30pm I went to check on him. He was laying in bed surfing on the laptop. He said he felt just terrible and just wanted to lay in bed all day. Instead of laying in bed I strongly coerced him into getting up and doing a couple of errands with me and the girls. This is despite him saying he thought he had the flu.<br /><br />I should say, I didn't doubt that Bill was as sick as he said he was. But in all honesty, I thought he was being a a bit of a big baby. Despite being sick, I thought he should still be well enough to be able to go with me on a couple of really small trips. Suck it up buttercup! I go do things when I'm sick too!<br /><br />Fast forward to Monday, and Karma comes back and hits me in the butt, HARD. Bill is not 100%, but feeling much, much better. After doing a great workout, jogging/walking 3 miles, I was feeling great. But then, just a few hours later and I got the chills. I finally jumped in the shower as an attempt to warm up.<br /><br />I cannot tell you how quickly I went downhill from there. Yesterday, I was so sick that I needed to go to the doctor and had to have Bill drive me. Today, my bronchitis symptoms are much better but the flu is hitting me so hard I can hardly move.<br /><br />And what have I learned from all of this?<br />1) Bill really is a tough guy. The next time he says he's sick, I'm just going to close off the door for quarantine purposes and let him emerge when he's well.<br /><br />2) Payback is a beyatch. Not only am I sicker and for longer, I get to have the kids all by myself tonight as Bill needs to be gone.<br /><br /><br />Karma is laughing furiously at me right now. And somewhere under Bill's outward sympathy for me is the smuggest expression of "I told you so" one has ever sported.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-9378576587608344132009-02-22T21:11:00.003-05:002009-02-22T21:16:33.018-05:00Nightime Attire<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptAIPywEyLCzBWOl2VyPehqT8J2zlq089J-ZkNAuTfqTL_A9SUuNov0d6jhOJDq7rXni9pP2DidK8S3Y_J-hO5DcoC0HNSglbeRvrMRVe52lsfzQAyjpMAUIc4l3BvjjMC4VVmicdWzM/s1600-h/DSC_0051.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptAIPywEyLCzBWOl2VyPehqT8J2zlq089J-ZkNAuTfqTL_A9SUuNov0d6jhOJDq7rXni9pP2DidK8S3Y_J-hO5DcoC0HNSglbeRvrMRVe52lsfzQAyjpMAUIc4l3BvjjMC4VVmicdWzM/s400/DSC_0051.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305810158559978162" border="0" /></a>This is what you get when you let a two year old pick out her own pajamas and dress herself for bed. The photo is missing the red, blue and green knee socks she paired with the ensemble but I think it captured the mittens and panties on the outside of the pj's nicely. I think she's just missing a cape to complete the look. What do you think?-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-63046395351241280392009-02-20T12:28:00.007-05:002009-02-20T13:13:56.547-05:00Posing on International DayThis week has been International Week at school. They study different cultures, they get special snacks from countries all over the world, they do a potluck dinner of international foods, and on Friday, they have international dress day.<br /><br />Reagan's classroom had Italy. That was a bit challenging to find something specific to Italy. But then I had an idea to dress her as a Gondolier. I think we got pretty close with what we could find to work with.<br /><br />Bailey's Chinese dress is a special dress. I bought it in Hong Kong for my niece many years ago. She was just a year and a half old had been crowned Baby Miss Macon. I brought back that dress and she wore it in the Macon Cherry Blossom parade. That niece is now ten.<br /><br />Bailey's shoes were a gift from my mom. When I was pregnant with Reagan, I was working in NYC. My little brother was singing right across the street from where I worked at none other than Carnegie Hall. So my mom and Bill joined me in NYC so that they could attend my brother's concert. My mom made a trip to Chinatown and came back with the shoes. I don't know that she remembered we still had the Chinese dress, but the shoes matched perfectly. Reagan wore that outfit at about a year and now Bailey gets to wear it too.<br /><br />Reagan was pretty excited to wear her costume today. You'll see she was quite the poser. Especially when we got to the steps. She would lay on a step and say, "take a picture of me now" and then she'd hop up and say, "hmm, let me try this..." or "how about I go here" and try a totally different pose. She even intentionally winked in one pose. She'd always want to see what the picture looked like after I took it so she knew how to adjust the next pose.<br /><br />Bailey proved to be difficult to photograph this time as she just discovered that she could see herself on the back of the camera too. So she just kept coming at me and wanting to see the pictures on the camera.<br /><br />So here are the girls, striking a pose, working it for the camera.<br /><br />Bailey getting mad because I wouldn't let her have the camera...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXDILXIKHZBVQPejJYEezycO4K2juBEZAW_0bMFoC4I_lAzf0pCBjNFR8R7aa-kzJddcLzMj29HYRxAXuAv2AUWxjxK_CvAg-mWR4s9D0Iio1Qp6GjpDtrUNFFsSCOaLlU3tjXpE4pKc/s1600-h/DSC_0091.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304940701535527378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXDILXIKHZBVQPejJYEezycO4K2juBEZAW_0bMFoC4I_lAzf0pCBjNFR8R7aa-kzJddcLzMj29HYRxAXuAv2AUWxjxK_CvAg-mWR4s9D0Iio1Qp6GjpDtrUNFFsSCOaLlU3tjXpE4pKc/s400/DSC_0091.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><p>Bailey looking wide eyed and innocent after being busted for trying to strangle Reagan with her hat cord...<br /></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIiti8XEnPBTQyP2I4-bA15yg_SHgttzEpePVwsT6EjpmdjBcf8TmmBO0s9Yc4jULoK65CaSIPNa75tUAAYEiUB3qoF8Pnw6jE4jyAICb5TWKnfoUJ8I4T4VnLXV0l_u-TnU5wbM6R2k/s1600-h/DSC_0090.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304940699031207250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIiti8XEnPBTQyP2I4-bA15yg_SHgttzEpePVwsT6EjpmdjBcf8TmmBO0s9Yc4jULoK65CaSIPNa75tUAAYEiUB3qoF8Pnw6jE4jyAICb5TWKnfoUJ8I4T4VnLXV0l_u-TnU5wbM6R2k/s400/DSC_0090.JPG" border="0" /></a> </p><p>Reagan in her first of many poses...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304939610775041010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GRa3j1k6EeAw1Tgx37WAELFFFVlOfi_P6yyQYYSOVqdHvlc1CMA0SdItXWWompVqZ3IuUZeT4g3fJGEol9JY2_vy_Bdc70RI_BJHVfjG_uu8jSz7eFU9R-vWoTpRnMmztTFix262-l8/s400/DSC_0083.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxHqphEBzkY48WaG8O8f2NPkG4iKSiR97IKJm5h4fiNo9mv8OrIFspXF9SI06Km64aNAmuFvVfBfNXA-fb7aW8QOwFzI_6xe7kKavH9ASXITDfLlRECrfKZ_aeycLnEagZe14FUuPtrGk/s1600-h/DSC_0087.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304940689664998866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxHqphEBzkY48WaG8O8f2NPkG4iKSiR97IKJm5h4fiNo9mv8OrIFspXF9SI06Km64aNAmuFvVfBfNXA-fb7aW8QOwFzI_6xe7kKavH9ASXITDfLlRECrfKZ_aeycLnEagZe14FUuPtrGk/s400/DSC_0087.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipq8bdiD4PmyXDtzxxk2BRVo2BeAWL7FKxdlMZta9eBM69aYiBeswV-z8AzKK0r5LIN5Orw8uBfTS9VYultEH1uazoUThIHji1Cqg8QJJ2rSIVQLBi9TDn0g_A9Zlru0a0LnsNJL2c6U/s1600-h/DSC_0086.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304939620558085586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipq8bdiD4PmyXDtzxxk2BRVo2BeAWL7FKxdlMZta9eBM69aYiBeswV-z8AzKK0r5LIN5Orw8uBfTS9VYultEH1uazoUThIHji1Cqg8QJJ2rSIVQLBi9TDn0g_A9Zlru0a0LnsNJL2c6U/s400/DSC_0086.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIj-qQX32o4jqkxZHUQP5hz_uSymiDDm_JFRGG52-Bjd3jvJq7G1vN6Vh_4uXq4YZ7HZ2yYoAxGMzrQcNxMyFCA8K4IKhr8EgtcciLwGcnt3-liKB1FcXY1DAFGs5siZ8ta065szTytE/s1600-h/DSC_0085.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304939619051093106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIj-qQX32o4jqkxZHUQP5hz_uSymiDDm_JFRGG52-Bjd3jvJq7G1vN6Vh_4uXq4YZ7HZ2yYoAxGMzrQcNxMyFCA8K4IKhr8EgtcciLwGcnt3-liKB1FcXY1DAFGs5siZ8ta065szTytE/s400/DSC_0085.JPG" border="0" /></a> </p><p>Here's looking at you kid. Perfecting "the wink"...<br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304939615651981922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09CLsKsbR4l74-V31vnf26lqW3Lpe8hAytz-i62T2q4odRls0TOlg5Q1Yy98yGQTSLb3szQoH2R0tmXFgM_kPSsM51W-oyTfRuwc4wiz6ucpUoddVnusMlOvc6b-xzeoZ1CK3ewe7mHU/s400/DSC_0084.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304937662355046674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoDcVObmWHOKyLiCULNwoW2mWvV677GIVcve9iSD8lyrx9UAnewysdpeKlVr1shelPMtXFI4aGPEEfWrx8ySWJNoE48KzOxhixfa0j5ZFx9YpuQdDip-ZNqq60r_C5oS2nAjGAEk5QN0k/s400/DSC_0066.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304940707464296242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfm1_Yt-1Q7oSvEl5-dXW672fPZxw0z2UgQyeN71QxJ8JccOMPTER_kheAaB6p79My2HQIahb4yQvJpE-q0h5WHBs0V1KYkSpkxxHLLEEKaeav_TqLMGHn9wGGMU1cpfKxAl-KHVZA-Q/s400/DSC_0092.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>Bailey's wondering what is with all the posing...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhibnfwriAE9Y28o1EmJ9JzYWDSR7kYJf-GT5wWoMMY6T0nLl_M6vXubbMwbjck-rTM1e4_myl42VuEBFZmuczwyzplg-2fBUBK4wu0H-009_vpnXBKW5e9a4b8lwBanELyd_ujBsOqZsE/s1600-h/DSC_0081.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304939607318194946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhibnfwriAE9Y28o1EmJ9JzYWDSR7kYJf-GT5wWoMMY6T0nLl_M6vXubbMwbjck-rTM1e4_myl42VuEBFZmuczwyzplg-2fBUBK4wu0H-009_vpnXBKW5e9a4b8lwBanELyd_ujBsOqZsE/s400/DSC_0081.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbRoGMOMzShLKzvVnLALVN9BcUrp8Kr2nd8AXj9Kpr6atMrEaM1wrbc4la9KmV0Kn4T0QiklWx1n7l0cDPKIN-7dTQd5mV6Ai_taqpTebQM_PKr6q2OMKICTLo6E1yF95a-WxyXYuvlg/s1600-h/DSC_0078.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304937677917155474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbRoGMOMzShLKzvVnLALVN9BcUrp8Kr2nd8AXj9Kpr6atMrEaM1wrbc4la9KmV0Kn4T0QiklWx1n7l0cDPKIN-7dTQd5mV6Ai_taqpTebQM_PKr6q2OMKICTLo6E1yF95a-WxyXYuvlg/s400/DSC_0078.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiELPYnL0Zbspa3paJbGieamHLRhRPgWlnEXcrvvShVWNDDw-cUzsRqv_CsXfKZ3cn6WqRMkxrlNAIMyZsl4UtLqwV3EdHvUzM_2C8yhcbOQKQ5pXCZ5gGtduphPk9r40G3HfQ3LM9tG1g/s1600-h/DSC_0075.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304937674851859570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiELPYnL0Zbspa3paJbGieamHLRhRPgWlnEXcrvvShVWNDDw-cUzsRqv_CsXfKZ3cn6WqRMkxrlNAIMyZsl4UtLqwV3EdHvUzM_2C8yhcbOQKQ5pXCZ5gGtduphPk9r40G3HfQ3LM9tG1g/s400/DSC_0075.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholarZLZMFe3-9i6gRFp1jQdrV83XTdGQKR83uNpJ6-VvRuU_kU1JWfXCS6m6uBi4-rgtClQtHB1_iy-KC3blkE9HQQC45kzAjV0tCBDn-O6NXivfiIaJbZhqc1a34SR21KJQPf1dAgVM/s1600-h/DSC_0073.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304937670082908914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholarZLZMFe3-9i6gRFp1jQdrV83XTdGQKR83uNpJ6-VvRuU_kU1JWfXCS6m6uBi4-rgtClQtHB1_iy-KC3blkE9HQQC45kzAjV0tCBDn-O6NXivfiIaJbZhqc1a34SR21KJQPf1dAgVM/s400/DSC_0073.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304940713992087602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-I-OHrd9QFn0SBnvARkTwyuSWXh5NcCXeu0SANzHX55U9LKMWA9C638C74Nq96z4JfXrmFgesJinbyhbUHQvwkUOthXeHzLHcCkjLKEoP0Yc3BmWiKwtwWElqvhsjDbMzljGUylxQFEg/s400/DSC_0095.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomIezO_vMjVlQgNhYvKHryFL_m15UA2ImfdY4KNenkEA6WChLwcYDT186V7YUkL73i8P3SF-fMiYSWhcHBwpiLLNz_Xge10zPyxHn7FvhqLeS8u4VvXCwZGMPEpfTTRBVqbzSKxAOHnA/s1600-h/DSC_0070.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304937666704417810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomIezO_vMjVlQgNhYvKHryFL_m15UA2ImfdY4KNenkEA6WChLwcYDT186V7YUkL73i8P3SF-fMiYSWhcHBwpiLLNz_Xge10zPyxHn7FvhqLeS8u4VvXCwZGMPEpfTTRBVqbzSKxAOHnA/s400/DSC_0070.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /> </p><p>Reagan kept jumping in front of the camera when I tried to take a picture of just Bailey...<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304940978544214402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNQ9dBMYf9faXwzPhWd6asAxs4UhLKAzyvIuxpRanANiItYO_FwdrYEgigAwNWIZ-G2Oq8HjaO6gCtlxh6OFy3Y03v7MGe1wd8RToltEsQdnzPkLAzrIJH9hzs7f36CZc7c48IBcTEOM/s400/DSC_0099.JPG" border="0" /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304940972334158082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITL7nTo4twhmznD4ZnqKzkvoDMH8sMv0VfGpguLgem59iFjmxtshgZ2TDOhbrsgvdJpBcf11COR0hQf_etyCWdL1JaiPnqNC46rXihZKh7Wt7q5_NU0tOw64Au04F_2NFLQaBK7V5RkA/s400/DSC_0098.JPG" border="0" />-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-43139869675308138872009-02-17T21:37:00.002-05:002009-02-17T21:40:04.580-05:00It was Roseola after allYep. Both girls had rashes today and no fevers. Reagan's was much milder. Of course she also had Roseola when she was nine months old so I was surprised she got it at all.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-15259599731938435652009-02-16T20:22:00.002-05:002009-02-16T20:33:14.755-05:00FeversBailey came down with a fever on Saturday of 103.5. It wouldn't be the first time she's had a fever that high, but it's the first time she didn't want to play and cried even when held. She was absolutely miserable.<br /><br />Bill took her to the Urgent Care (because I'm too much of a wimp). They checked her ears, they listed to her chest, everything was fine. They swabbed her nose for flu, negative. Drew blood for tests, negative. Drew a catatheter for tests, negative. The prognosis: a virus.<br /><br />So we had one sick miserable little baby and then Reagan came down with a high fever too. We were giving them both Tylenol and Ibuprofen around the clock. I had to write it all down to remember who took what and when.<br /><br />Reagan seemed to recover pretty quickly. She was a little grumpy, but otherwise fine. Bailey took a lot longer. We sent them both to school today since Reagan's was gone and Bailey's was under 100. They said Bailey was still a little clingy and fussy. I won't be half surprised if tomorrow her fever is gone and a rash is there instead. The classic Roseola case. We'll see though.<br /><br />I had today off for President's Day and so Bill took it off too. Since we were able to send both the girls to school, we got a great day of doing some shopping, going out to eat, seeing a movie. It felt like one of those weekends before we had kids. I wish we had family around so we could get a few more days like that once in a while. It was quite fun and relaxing.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-15435661596987490782009-02-10T22:13:00.004-05:002009-02-10T22:36:01.729-05:00Miss BaileyLet me update you on Miss Bailey. She quietly turned one on Christmas Eve. There wasn't the pomp and circumstance or the party of 50 people like we had at Reagan's first birthday. We unceremoniously drove most of the day to Florida for Christmas. She never even got a first birthday cake. I feel a bit guilty about that and vow to make sure she always gets a proper birthday every other year.<br /><br />When Bailey turned one, it seems like overnight the lights went on in her head. She took her first steps Christmas Day and immediately started babbling more, imitating more, and just wanting to be more involved in what we are doing.<br /><br />Bailey's walking started out like a crab walk. She'd only walk sideways. After a week or so of that, she changed to the zombie walk. She'd slowly totter down the trek with her hands straight out. If she wasn't always giggling her butt off, I'd imagine her walking thinking, "brains, I want brains" in true zombie fashion.<br /><br />Six weeks later, and Bailey is completely changed. She still has a bit of the zombie walk, but now she attempts to run, especially after successfully snatching a toy or food from Reagan or some poor unsuspecting baby at daycare. You'd never know Reagan has 1.5 years on her. Bailey doesn't let it deter her in the least. The other day she snatched Reagan's burrito right off her plate and was scarfing it down (with her only two teeth) as quickly as she could while trying to make a clean getaway. If Reagan is in "her" chair, Bailey pushes her right out of it. She has every bit of fiestiness as Reagan and has become quite ornery. She has discovered the classic games such as "let-me-climb-up-the-stairs-as-fast-as-I-can-and-see-how-far-I-make-it-before-Mom-catches-me" or "look!-I-can-stand-on-a-table!"<br /><br />No matter what she gets into or cooks up, she continues to do it with a smile on her face and a laugh in her heart. She truly brings us great joy. Reagan truly loves her and gets just as excited as we do when Bailey does something new. Reagan has actually done a better job than us at trying to teach Bailey sign language. By one year, Reagan knew over 100 signs. By 14 months she was combining them to form "sentences." Reagan has retained most of that knowledge and it's really cool to see her "talking" to Bailey with sign language. Bailey only does a few signs, but we see her trying more and more every day. She understands a lot more than she communicates as she has become quite vigorous in her head shaking "yes" or "no" to respond to our questions.<br /><br />Both girls are just amazing to us. They are so very different from each other yet we love them both with all our heart. I look back and can't believe I cried tears of sorrow and frustration when I found out I was pregnant with Bailey. She was truly meant to be in our lives when she was and I can't imagine our lives without her.<br /><br />Out of the baby years...now on to more toddler years!<br /><br />(I have a bunch of pictures to add to this post but I'm not on the right computer. Rather than wait, I'm posting now and will add the pictures later. Don't forget to come back and check them out. As many have pointed out, she's grown to be quite the big girl practically overnight. I have some cute pics to share.)-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-12786005332348590632009-02-05T20:50:00.005-05:002009-02-05T21:06:00.172-05:00We Bought What?Let me share with you what can happen when you let a two-year old walk with you in a Target instead of putting her in the buggy. Here is a picture of some of the things we purchased earlier this week.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rwJI1vnkmjpHMRwKKGFAbXZqF-7MW-FE0ZtL4F5gZuN0G2Pi_-FPaa6B4tRikaJhXIXsdmgSyxkGBuW_ZhztN8mysS6xV8oCBnr_IaXZeHXbyMRO4zElMgu_1wIooZnmT33Cl3NcIIU/s1600-h/DSC_0050.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rwJI1vnkmjpHMRwKKGFAbXZqF-7MW-FE0ZtL4F5gZuN0G2Pi_-FPaa6B4tRikaJhXIXsdmgSyxkGBuW_ZhztN8mysS6xV8oCBnr_IaXZeHXbyMRO4zElMgu_1wIooZnmT33Cl3NcIIU/s400/DSC_0050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299496246515869154" border="0" /></a>The punchline is neither Bill nor I actually knowingly bought any of these products. Bill usually handles the credit card transaction while I unload the buggy. This time it was the other way around. Bill tossed everything in the cart up on the belt, assuming I had a perfectly good reason why I wanted two types of acne medicine (neither of us have acne), a black eyeliner (I use brown), and my favorite--makeup for women of color. Let's face it, even on my tannest day, I can't use makeup intended for black women.<br /><br />I caught Reagan putting in one of the Noxemas at one point and pulled it back out of the cart. She protested and said, "but Mom, you NEED it." Gee thanks for that. I pulled it back out, but the sneaky little bugger put it back in again when neither of us was looking.<br /><br />Unfortunately, the receipt is tossed and since Target's return policy sucks, we now have a few items we can donate to the local women's shelter.<br /><br />Oh, and this is also exactly how I ended up with six boxes of Weight Watchers Calzones on Saturday.<br /><br /><br />Some recent random pics, just because...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilO68RmzLRtl3-YC94C0o5EUZ-M2JLxXmUe5xkcCmzzcM0d6Gpc8JhxsOkYNWNBwFZayBCSaY31l37suq7MoR33HrGeDLsVLdTPmHZMBQAmWd1_725ol4biUYMiDdMxHZ6FwkLuBuE2Aw/s1600-h/DSC_0035.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilO68RmzLRtl3-YC94C0o5EUZ-M2JLxXmUe5xkcCmzzcM0d6Gpc8JhxsOkYNWNBwFZayBCSaY31l37suq7MoR33HrGeDLsVLdTPmHZMBQAmWd1_725ol4biUYMiDdMxHZ6FwkLuBuE2Aw/s400/DSC_0035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299497141380398818" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxoEzrKYBWeaQbPFbaB9eI2b0aF8wYSNSIn7jfjcP1hZWasVuLDtw39J7EYv8TKyVhKVN8A5D4uJnmkuhrMDmj9hozFLjILUQT7uqkO2WV20RoXgrLZX6MrWP7vr7tyH_TLt-Q3jnx9w/s1600-h/DSC_0041.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxoEzrKYBWeaQbPFbaB9eI2b0aF8wYSNSIn7jfjcP1hZWasVuLDtw39J7EYv8TKyVhKVN8A5D4uJnmkuhrMDmj9hozFLjILUQT7uqkO2WV20RoXgrLZX6MrWP7vr7tyH_TLt-Q3jnx9w/s400/DSC_0041.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299496568524242498" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a5Urxsm3RlkxRYOWbkknKLI6BMc3nguOIfTvfeuL4v1JSTWzmQ48lNEgzEQlt7J9i663uvzc0_RZQssKNk4JtPNQiDA6hcLUHl5M7lqvYCLSYC6asWQNgcw8L-avefmnXPpjUgkdlOY/s1600-h/DSC_0029.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a5Urxsm3RlkxRYOWbkknKLI6BMc3nguOIfTvfeuL4v1JSTWzmQ48lNEgzEQlt7J9i663uvzc0_RZQssKNk4JtPNQiDA6hcLUHl5M7lqvYCLSYC6asWQNgcw8L-avefmnXPpjUgkdlOY/s400/DSC_0029.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299496534461983426" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuotEOiJivMlXDcCc7LGvI-SLacgkdSJsTp9D05mrwA6uuECZp115_dnjSEHSFnpIKGHBGBSrDhicVGrAR-q_q8UaY9xGrcYKbARLh17m4AxCNZOxsXfR8A8nCr99S2EyDmXn8IULVK8/s1600-h/DSC_0028.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuotEOiJivMlXDcCc7LGvI-SLacgkdSJsTp9D05mrwA6uuECZp115_dnjSEHSFnpIKGHBGBSrDhicVGrAR-q_q8UaY9xGrcYKbARLh17m4AxCNZOxsXfR8A8nCr99S2EyDmXn8IULVK8/s400/DSC_0028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299496533384141314" border="0" /></a>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-14134139358825173212009-01-30T12:58:00.003-05:002009-01-30T13:06:03.377-05:00New Blog: Walk Away From the TwinkieBecause I don't have enough trouble keeping this blog up (sarcasm on), I've decided to start yet another blog. Rather than turning this blog into my escapades on trying to lose a gazillion pounds and run a marathon like tomorrow, I've decided to keep that separate.<br /><br />I figure it will be a good to keep a journal of my journey, and I'm inviting you to come along...<br /><br /><a href="http://walkawayfromthetwinkie.blogspot.com/">Walk Away From the Twinkie</a><br /><br />My goal is to update both this blog and the other blog daily. I think now that I've finally finished my "second job" role, it will be much more realistic for me to find time. For the most part, I think I'm going to be working a normal 40-50 hour work week now. I'm pretty excited about that! That is also what led to me finally being able to take on the weight challenge as well. It's really nice when things finally come together.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-87952626790228183442009-01-30T08:55:00.003-05:002009-01-30T09:08:04.314-05:00I have a new cousin!My Aunt Kelly is a year younger than me (I'll pause for a moment while you wrap your noodle around that concept). After a difficult delivery, Kelly had her first baby. I now have a new first cousin!<br /><br /><div></div><div>Kelly lives in Seattle so we don't get a chance to see each other very often, but through the magic of Facebook and email I look forward to watching her little baby boy grow up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Congratulations Kelly! We are so happy for you!</div><div><br /></div><div align="center"><strong>Brady Joseph Lynch</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>January 17, 9:35am</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>7lbs 3oz, 19 inches</strong></div><div><br />Here's a picture of Kelly and Brady. How adorable is he?<br /></div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297086914754429474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhE3OTULxxJd_h1QIuFV0xHfq8-BP6oQk7V8XS2Vqs4HhMhqlNN6zwLiTlvys0YDI0sdv_3i7bq6ZvSlx7IC6G3tbQ5aQ6K5qasMl9dPQAdTK7nB6HEI1hRuyyE6ywhyphenhyphenpv5ozY9pvtbc/s400/100_1474.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />Here's the proud dad, Tim, with little Brady. That's right, sleep while you can!<br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297086912041989458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6J5VEsSYbLsLS9vFS4Hn9R1KNuw9YJctUnGNBr6rinnUHlb_2IlIW-PGUUrElzm44LSjWGCHa8Do5j_rX9dpGnpz8dFIwqDYmq6bxZjXLBukXAV2viWO30LqsFtXG53eTFv3FKOQ2CSw/s400/100_1477.JPG" border="0" /></div>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-28672322001949779032009-01-28T12:50:00.002-05:002009-01-28T13:05:00.855-05:00The Loftiest of GoalsSo what do you do when you find yourself 100 lbs overweight and you can't run to your mailbox? a) Get a rascal scooter<br />b) Diet and exercise sensibly to loose weight and get in shape<br />c) Bury your sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby<br />d) sign up for a marathon<br /><br />Ok, I realize most of you probably would have picked B (although C does sound like a tempting winner). Alas, if you haven't found out by now, I'm not like most people. I picked D. That's right, I signed up to run in a marathon.<br /><br />I realize how crazy it all seems well, because it is. But I am very goal driven and up until now, I haven't had a strong enough goal and motivation to push me to my end result. So as I was perusing the company intranet yesterday I saw a notification for early sign ups for the Chicago Marathon on October 11. I started to think about it and thought this could be just the piece of motivation I'm looking for.<br /><br />I did some research. A lot of people suggest you run regularly for about a year before you try to train for a marathon. There was a lot of good and of course, conflicting advice. In the end, I ignored a lot of the advice (not that I am recommending you do the same), and decided to go for it.<br /><br />I'm not looking to beat a certain time or even enjoy the run. My goals are to simply survive it and finish it in 6hrs and 30mins before they take down the water and first aid stations. I may not get anywhere close to that goal, but I'm going to do everything I can do try. Bill said he'd call it success and would be proud if I just finished 10K. That may be all I can do, but I'm still shooting for the entire 26.2 miles.<br /><br />I've got eight months to loose weight, get in shape, and prepare for the race. I'm starting with the "couch to 5K" program where at the end of nine weeks I'll be able to run three miles without stopping. We'll see.<br /><br />Everyone has to have a dream, right? Here's mine:<br /><br /><div align="center">Chicago Marathon</div><div align="center">October 11, 2009</div><div align="center">Bridget finishes the race</div>-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-26042580618650393782009-01-27T21:36:00.002-05:002009-01-27T21:46:20.915-05:00Lured from the tentI previously reported how Reagan would only sleep in her princess castle tent she got for Christmas. I am happy to report that a solid month later, she has finally been lured from her tent into a real bed.<br /><br />Prior to her taking up residence in her tent, she was sleeping in her little toddler bed. But she's always had a twin bed in her room that has gone unused. The twin bed is a canopy bed that looks like Cinderella's carriage. She's shown great interest in it over the years-- for climbing, for jumping, for doing dive rolls off of it. For sleeping-- no interest whatsoever.<br /><br />But about a week ago, I put in the Cinderella movie for the first time. She watched it with great interest, becoming very upset with the ugly stepsisters destroyed Cinderella's dress for the ball. Then, when she saw Cinderella's carriage, she immediately identified it as looking like her bed.<br /><br />When the movie ended she asked to watch it again. She's now watched it about a dozen times. And she now wants to be "Cinderella Princess." The bed that was only good for jumping from has now become her bed of choice for slumber, over her toddler bed, over her tent. She looks so adorable being so tiny and sleeping in such a big bed.<br /><br />I wish I had thought of putting on that movie a long time ago.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068978907489285.post-15288414006248540202009-01-26T20:02:00.003-05:002009-01-26T20:09:22.765-05:00What's for Dinner, Super Bowl Corn DipWith the Super Bowl coming up, I've started thinking about what I'm going to take to our friends' Super Bowl party. Here's one super easy crowd <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pleaser</span> for your consideration:<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Corn Dip</span></strong><br /><br />Prep time: 5 minutes<br />Cook time: 30 minutes<br /><br /><strong>Ingredients</strong><br />2 cups mayo<br />2 cans Fiesta/Mexican corn- drained<br />2 cups grated <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Monterrey</span> jack/<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Colby</span> mix<br />2 cups grated <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Parmesan</span> (or <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Parmesan</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Romano</span> mix)<br />Add some cumin, jalapenos, diced <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">chilies</span>, or red cayenne pepper if you want (it's perfectly yummy without them)<br /><br /><strong>Directions</strong><br />Add all the ingredients and mix together<br />Cook in 350 oven for 30 minutes<br /><br /><strong>Notes</strong><br />Scoops <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Tortilla</span> chips are awesome with this<br />I think next time I may try this same recipe but adding crab. I'll let you know how it turns out.-Bridgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15689950239216753388noreply@blogger.com3