tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26961616183645819372024-03-14T04:11:29.465-07:00The Last Time ChangeFamily, faith and moving to the Prairie - we are FINISHED with DayLight Savings!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.comBlogger139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-6068432740530602642016-02-22T11:50:00.000-08:002016-02-22T11:50:17.303-08:00Lenten CrazynessAs part of my Lenten practise this year I am de-cluttering a part of my house every day. Some days it is a big project (like our storage) other days it is a little more reasonable (like my sock drawer). But since Ash Wednesday I have been avoiding working on the pantry. Well today was the day!<br />
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I am glad that Lenten is meant to teach us and not really about getting my house clean!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-88021238024835493612016-01-14T11:07:00.001-08:002016-01-14T11:07:17.380-08:00Commuting Prairie Style <p dir="ltr">This is the way to get to preschool! </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOnDUHQzf6jV3WV8pwCF_sYsL1vMOCbx4FWrBMiJBiMIr_0lCngiiU3WJikSDU3Oc9E99OgPaPfiY7XU6SNbtW1m2aL8WSnUa5OTPsN01xc-eR09RKgbvjb4YS107IkHV7VT85vufw66u/s1600/20160114_122940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOnDUHQzf6jV3WV8pwCF_sYsL1vMOCbx4FWrBMiJBiMIr_0lCngiiU3WJikSDU3Oc9E99OgPaPfiY7XU6SNbtW1m2aL8WSnUa5OTPsN01xc-eR09RKgbvjb4YS107IkHV7VT85vufw66u/s640/20160114_122940.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-14865920131874424862016-01-07T09:45:00.001-08:002016-01-07T09:46:49.788-08:00Post Christmas Craft idea<div class="mobile-photo">
Around here we find letting go of Christmas hard. It is a little sad to take down all the festive decorations. The living room feels empty with out a tree and lights. And I really hate recycling Christmas cards. </div>
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But this Post-Christmas craft has been fun and helped a little with the post Christmas blues. </div>
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How to Make Boxes Out of Christmas Cards:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD051pof7rFGKHT8JlmUpG5vHAsOZIkO-GBMQzQU0SU982VC7e770cOmxsIpuHU_4QKnMLMXA8kH4VlEkrAC0o9xoJ0ZOZg2s0GUtd3vmze03ey74Z2dO7LWFwOBwIC7jIjr2hc6Aubr54/s1600/photo-702057.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5970318942322012754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD051pof7rFGKHT8JlmUpG5vHAsOZIkO-GBMQzQU0SU982VC7e770cOmxsIpuHU_4QKnMLMXA8kH4VlEkrAC0o9xoJ0ZOZg2s0GUtd3vmze03ey74Z2dO7LWFwOBwIC7jIjr2hc6Aubr54/s320/photo-702057.JPG" /></a></div>
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Step One: Cut the card into two pieces down the fold of the card.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZGmyu9wN-zMqZkwe9rFeiMLX5JIlHvGczDGMoTH4IhHg8RkJBN1O-bEDf7BoXdI7QxlCY6kM1oBMRUQPVN5D-WkC40t_oBDDe-WSFjdIhADDhTufyLFw-bf3tOyMskqELpllk0gDZSJm/s1600/20160107_111804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZGmyu9wN-zMqZkwe9rFeiMLX5JIlHvGczDGMoTH4IhHg8RkJBN1O-bEDf7BoXdI7QxlCY6kM1oBMRUQPVN5D-WkC40t_oBDDe-WSFjdIhADDhTufyLFw-bf3tOyMskqELpllk0gDZSJm/s320/20160107_111804.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Step Two: Take a ruler or and mark a line form one corner to the other and again with the other corners. This will give you the centre of the card.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPEc0t9e5e7gktA1SmCtk8vz7F22Ve1pxYhCYUlu7p2kqu8UUaYb-Q9Y5vbt_hXWQmHfXuWsEoWkoDzPt1VY4Do9wMCT5-r8tDblCp2vTGax7WW9HxaoXnY88byUcU6rRIV-KZCywwq1O/s1600/20160107_112156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPEc0t9e5e7gktA1SmCtk8vz7F22Ve1pxYhCYUlu7p2kqu8UUaYb-Q9Y5vbt_hXWQmHfXuWsEoWkoDzPt1VY4Do9wMCT5-r8tDblCp2vTGax7WW9HxaoXnY88byUcU6rRIV-KZCywwq1O/s320/20160107_112156.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Step Three: Fold each side so the edge of the card reaches to the middle of the card (Your X you just made). It helps to crease the fold with the ruler. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrRwIyL19E1uPykkqj1QhyJ5jXeWxoPuYKjsP3kZZmTHamQw3fBu_KYUOTGyaFzOz93fcA2NnUnjE95mDFibq2zaUrowz-MBGa49ek_No_yfE6kPFfS7QL0xB9j_7x9Dn8vJrWCzydwPgC/s1600/20160107_112421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrRwIyL19E1uPykkqj1QhyJ5jXeWxoPuYKjsP3kZZmTHamQw3fBu_KYUOTGyaFzOz93fcA2NnUnjE95mDFibq2zaUrowz-MBGa49ek_No_yfE6kPFfS7QL0xB9j_7x9Dn8vJrWCzydwPgC/s320/20160107_112421.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaiOejB3NRJnTFCi0zSfHUPNE23hmD9oB1ZUTzjOGxZuQ2aTR-ex0WX6zIkvyvnZUs69gZQUh8D7R_htDAm7i1cPJ7Pg7FjuLioHGMXF9XfSdIncQccfw6gbGS-vimfdQRX2uqIonBnN1/s1600/20160107_112519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaiOejB3NRJnTFCi0zSfHUPNE23hmD9oB1ZUTzjOGxZuQ2aTR-ex0WX6zIkvyvnZUs69gZQUh8D7R_htDAm7i1cPJ7Pg7FjuLioHGMXF9XfSdIncQccfw6gbGS-vimfdQRX2uqIonBnN1/s320/20160107_112519.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Step Four: On one side cut the creases until they mean the creases going in the opposite direction. Then do it again on the other side. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7yq6Wdzc-M6zKnvcYo2vcHR7lN1aNP81L0g2qDpc4hvqzpJ_SngpuSY6mJmsdDR_J_wlkSdxxGyhVZ_xOg0UFzixNREsS7hROPYFhncb-HLkr9EQwAy1DMKcLhqNNrtEZ8_7B9v7g6EK/s1600/20160107_112944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7yq6Wdzc-M6zKnvcYo2vcHR7lN1aNP81L0g2qDpc4hvqzpJ_SngpuSY6mJmsdDR_J_wlkSdxxGyhVZ_xOg0UFzixNREsS7hROPYFhncb-HLkr9EQwAy1DMKcLhqNNrtEZ8_7B9v7g6EK/s320/20160107_112944.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnxGZJ0TsYjD-a4E1rBuezkJzInB5_P8yUSXEJghxUnkvtTheAv9Ve3uE6n17F1hi7MactrIkIpvmfoR08Lzlp_GTr5jDG9sEuX64_-5qvuWvqclI3fcDCWGo_HYPbxCH32Z37CDdgWnK/s1600/20160107_112754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnxGZJ0TsYjD-a4E1rBuezkJzInB5_P8yUSXEJghxUnkvtTheAv9Ve3uE6n17F1hi7MactrIkIpvmfoR08Lzlp_GTr5jDG9sEuX64_-5qvuWvqclI3fcDCWGo_HYPbxCH32Z37CDdgWnK/s320/20160107_112754.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Step Five: Fold the flaps you have just cut in and glue them together forming the side of the box. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVQ7VJ0TM9mUz0LQet9oQZn6gTtDWQ_F1D8Zfv4xPQ2DFhUnzxQAmJ0W-eseC5twjVvXmW8uAI_Qa7eXrgkXwZiGnJZlYZ3qjm39CZq7IQFShOoDANrgQoc4fBtpqNCuCDyxWDWyMY77o/s1600/20160107_113114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVQ7VJ0TM9mUz0LQet9oQZn6gTtDWQ_F1D8Zfv4xPQ2DFhUnzxQAmJ0W-eseC5twjVvXmW8uAI_Qa7eXrgkXwZiGnJZlYZ3qjm39CZq7IQFShOoDANrgQoc4fBtpqNCuCDyxWDWyMY77o/s320/20160107_113114.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4s1qvYYVX-aWMOrnqjrvL89RR7aRKReod7LzmHfcj4OUnsc7PdMxWfqR7mejZbzG8bZ0ESFaFnst1dBqHv6rnOH_wuYtEFwZVqqodkdqrkRq__05pVa1iLrBYQrsnEyVOKkhhgr-xpLA/s1600/20160107_113211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4s1qvYYVX-aWMOrnqjrvL89RR7aRKReod7LzmHfcj4OUnsc7PdMxWfqR7mejZbzG8bZ0ESFaFnst1dBqHv6rnOH_wuYtEFwZVqqodkdqrkRq__05pVa1iLrBYQrsnEyVOKkhhgr-xpLA/s320/20160107_113211.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Do this on both sides.</div>
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Step Six: Now fold the middle flap over the top of the two flaps you glued together and glue it down as well. Again, repeat on the other side. And now you have the top of your box.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpI_j9I_wivPxUNCVqvgmhFLsr2vtXG13yJnNuOomekls_CRMOsGQEuuAG-uS44JFUlvx2jOx3WvOlyRUz0hWGTHBoWrCikR2iWmes3ia7BtL-YudrkPeCvl_eop1aJTEflAiYwuzLwTf8/s1600/20160107_113320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpI_j9I_wivPxUNCVqvgmhFLsr2vtXG13yJnNuOomekls_CRMOsGQEuuAG-uS44JFUlvx2jOx3WvOlyRUz0hWGTHBoWrCikR2iWmes3ia7BtL-YudrkPeCvl_eop1aJTEflAiYwuzLwTf8/s320/20160107_113320.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Step Seven: Now you get to make the bottom of your box exactly the same way but you need to make it a little smaller so that it will fit. Cut off 1/4 inch off each side of the other piece of card before you start and you are set. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlafHSUNBzOfHgO9Ce3e3vZ-r-eFdD4fIXQH5QLZ8F0DkwHyCzBpsgW5u88rQ4mDmKf41Sqh5xyUIaoGVf0DAlLs1p7vwSYi6fXt0MxntF9QlAcr5c8qDKqtthVyfmt_yzIXQednHAp8g_/s1600/20160107_113944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlafHSUNBzOfHgO9Ce3e3vZ-r-eFdD4fIXQH5QLZ8F0DkwHyCzBpsgW5u88rQ4mDmKf41Sqh5xyUIaoGVf0DAlLs1p7vwSYi6fXt0MxntF9QlAcr5c8qDKqtthVyfmt_yzIXQednHAp8g_/s320/20160107_113944.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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We use them to give small gifts, or even pack up little ornaments. </div>
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Have fun!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-28685544438204513112015-11-16T07:36:00.000-08:002015-11-16T07:36:19.263-08:00Mommy Magic<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I love having a baby in the house. I love snuggling up with a warm little bundle. I love how they look at me like I am the most important, beautiful person in the world. And I love how I can fix any problem, a bump on the knee, a sleepy head, or even frustration over a not being able to eat electrical plugs. A cuddle and a nurse usually puts everything right.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQakmZ29i1iqTC8yfpzWXfokRvL916V49wUyHey13qw4qVcAtSLNoBG0dM5GAOrR-SN7T82yu_oC5dVnvnyvhfmWEAhJMWrSRxIxFMmjUO-nu5Ji1Pr8Iy9oVBgV3sinEDpxOuc_ozbWNO/s1600/20150703_132418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQakmZ29i1iqTC8yfpzWXfokRvL916V49wUyHey13qw4qVcAtSLNoBG0dM5GAOrR-SN7T82yu_oC5dVnvnyvhfmWEAhJMWrSRxIxFMmjUO-nu5Ji1Pr8Iy9oVBgV3sinEDpxOuc_ozbWNO/s320/20150703_132418.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-e4ae19a0-d876-5b42-f089-fdb4367d84b8" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I just wish that lasted forever. I wish that I could fix every things for all my kids for ever. But I can’t. For my big kids, I can no longer make everything right with a hug. I wish that I could reach in and take out the fear and anxiety in the heart of one of my beautiful babies. I wish I could help another see himself as I see him, an intelligent, fabulous, and interesting person. I wish I could help my little boy not take everything so deeply to heart. But I can’t.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As much as it hurts my heart, I know that taking the hurt and difficulties away from my kids would not serve them well. When I step back a little I see that it is the hard things that will make my children into strong adults. I know that if they never have to struggle, they will not know how strong they are. Or if they never hurt they will never see how beautiful forgiveness is. But it still hurt me to see them sad, frustrated or scared. Sometimes I think it hurts me more. They bounce back and move on but I am still grieving for them and their tender hearts. I want to fix it and make all the bad stuff disappear.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But my four-year-old said it best. After some now long forgotten sadness she was very distraught. I was trying to fix it, to explain why it was not that bad, why she should cheer up. She looked up at me with those big blue eyes and said “Mom, I don’t want you to make it better. I just want you to know that I am sad.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh right. I am not the magician who can fix every things, but I still have a little magic left. I am that place that is safe even if the world gets to big. I am the listening ear that can just hear what they are feeling when their emotions getting more complex than ever before. And I can still have a hug, even though it will not fix everything. It still helps.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-73269589202277786962015-11-05T08:08:00.003-08:002015-11-05T08:08:50.261-08:00The inner four-year-old <div dir="ltr">
I think that inside all of us is an inner four-year-old just waiting to get out. It is that part of us that wants to run with "super jets " down the hotel hallway. Or order waffles no matter which meal it is. It is the part of us that would love nothing better than to lay floating on our back in the swimming pool singing very loudly to our selves. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1eWkxY10mkWt5Zy0F7qK5LNqsKnEsMhXrrDNa4c3QmfYSew_WnGHlgXrJoczIw-AEm4rEyjXNNrd-ZFTOMs6d9il6R5TL5ZGqs15tkN8TTAq_F-UHEcbYZyqmNZIY10103AApe5sjUX06/s1600/20150925_173236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1eWkxY10mkWt5Zy0F7qK5LNqsKnEsMhXrrDNa4c3QmfYSew_WnGHlgXrJoczIw-AEm4rEyjXNNrd-ZFTOMs6d9il6R5TL5ZGqs15tkN8TTAq_F-UHEcbYZyqmNZIY10103AApe5sjUX06/s320/20150925_173236.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1O0q4Gna_eNsFqirLT0AEqFer6_iy7Xj3brO_x65CUwC_NEAMUVv5p2dJ1xL5kbGRsQItdGkXxJwoChNQ6cKE-Tq8r3sVrVHPOzasLY0tPBVfserEUOzCg2ES6r_jK9yLLKojlhh7MvLo/s1600/20150903_152602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1O0q4Gna_eNsFqirLT0AEqFer6_iy7Xj3brO_x65CUwC_NEAMUVv5p2dJ1xL5kbGRsQItdGkXxJwoChNQ6cKE-Tq8r3sVrVHPOzasLY0tPBVfserEUOzCg2ES6r_jK9yLLKojlhh7MvLo/s320/20150903_152602.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Some how between the time we were actually four and now we have learned that social norms do not include these things and so we don't wear our favourite pants, shorts, skirt and dress all at the same time. But I think I would have a lot more fun if I did. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-72377216908508176242015-11-02T13:27:00.001-08:002015-11-02T13:27:46.392-08:00Look at this<p dir="ltr">They say too much candy rots your teeth!</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg2Qf98C98O7w31_M7Hq-2P94-6GqX13yR9xrlcUGR5pFKWkP_8jn20AvtNWTeVcSJDRunodg1YnOk7BpwzqqEbVDNK8M4Y0JKqGvVH3zbBIxDGWnIm_NkzoBUMu1lZtpdmTmKeLTpDL6w/s1600/20151102_152609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg2Qf98C98O7w31_M7Hq-2P94-6GqX13yR9xrlcUGR5pFKWkP_8jn20AvtNWTeVcSJDRunodg1YnOk7BpwzqqEbVDNK8M4Y0JKqGvVH3zbBIxDGWnIm_NkzoBUMu1lZtpdmTmKeLTpDL6w/s640/20151102_152609.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-35205160925561876712015-10-31T06:54:00.001-07:002015-10-31T06:54:18.609-07:00Happy Halloween <p dir="ltr">Look at our real live jack-o-lantern. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMc_Z3PTpBD89dX7xpnQIqoQkAlwAsVGVVQ-RyJwufivytDjLz6eK7eR1D-uz6_d274U4IR6Ek_n9ZqiX-isvfVqERt5Fxf8OBGRaOxVhnLI3fQ9xMervtDDzVdT6gRBZN4hd5sGBAVIY/s1600/20151031_075219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMc_Z3PTpBD89dX7xpnQIqoQkAlwAsVGVVQ-RyJwufivytDjLz6eK7eR1D-uz6_d274U4IR6Ek_n9ZqiX-isvfVqERt5Fxf8OBGRaOxVhnLI3fQ9xMervtDDzVdT6gRBZN4hd5sGBAVIY/s640/20151031_075219.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-51626338686677759302015-10-16T08:29:00.000-07:002015-10-16T08:29:31.521-07:00Beauty on the Plaines<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeog4EwBODCjU2GO5Cxe8xJEzuWcAyrhb6_xDBDFQD1X21vkCAUtswz0iqD_xfJmKfuoIg29MKY-19hrQNMVLbO1xT8sJNDYAJp2j9Uv3d9lFzxmRuO7q-oQGFG9ZRWQZ-d5iRxzk_BPq/s1600/20150929_124419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeog4EwBODCjU2GO5Cxe8xJEzuWcAyrhb6_xDBDFQD1X21vkCAUtswz0iqD_xfJmKfuoIg29MKY-19hrQNMVLbO1xT8sJNDYAJp2j9Uv3d9lFzxmRuO7q-oQGFG9ZRWQZ-d5iRxzk_BPq/s320/20150929_124419.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I find it very easy to be thankful when I walk in this beauty. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEzv06aBJizOqYpjdFudEB5XCYzsfrK235vUSiT1IDHgl28fA8nDCvJAjPK4-pxvaSrYoD7tvc7PPUZyInTbJfhBYw-RAf56WU9aoI2BkqFN0b7H4eMJCeAAyYEezr96uH_jYWaLE6am1/s1600/20150929_124425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEzv06aBJizOqYpjdFudEB5XCYzsfrK235vUSiT1IDHgl28fA8nDCvJAjPK4-pxvaSrYoD7tvc7PPUZyInTbJfhBYw-RAf56WU9aoI2BkqFN0b7H4eMJCeAAyYEezr96uH_jYWaLE6am1/s320/20150929_124425.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-67195776275618865332015-10-04T12:45:00.003-07:002015-10-04T12:45:57.228-07:00Food and abundance.<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have not been blogging a lot lately. Don’t worry there has not been a big crises or big news to announce. I have just been busy. Very busy dealing with food. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-24302404-3454-11b4-aae4-d554e1d11b4e" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes food. It is harvest time on Cananda’s prairie. Between our backyard garden, the produce from our CSA and my very generous friend's acreage. I have been over run. I am canning, freezing, and backing up a storm. It has become my new obsession. This week I have put up 12 jars of pickles, and 14 jars of tomatoes. I have got the crab-apples juiced and ready to make into jelly. The zucchini is still coming so I am now shredding it and freezing it to use in the winter. I am just our of time and recipes. That was just this week. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZuktg2_Xuyudz7Av9rw64sVIAtmst49rw-qP52fMwMNrjK1etcIzQlrJrWOfZejkhzfnZ1DMn1aEQTNZphIj9na7llNvzpSvjgw6-d0nol125UBMc9EmvwOAAPYfCaZ-iMCmg8xamNPo/s1600/20150929_115517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZuktg2_Xuyudz7Av9rw64sVIAtmst49rw-qP52fMwMNrjK1etcIzQlrJrWOfZejkhzfnZ1DMn1aEQTNZphIj9na7llNvzpSvjgw6-d0nol125UBMc9EmvwOAAPYfCaZ-iMCmg8xamNPo/s320/20150929_115517.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofrp0-otmA4msVY7pI0phrJzDSWBsgQfTEMwOYSSTJVV0i_seEaXEVYUTouAyngJmKq_uOfD-lHfGPl03zj7uZHpGf3FyrMw8jiOMHO4S9U2-KfUsRY0iWskLBAxCRkPwJgP-KoGeMSoo/s1600/20150929_115429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofrp0-otmA4msVY7pI0phrJzDSWBsgQfTEMwOYSSTJVV0i_seEaXEVYUTouAyngJmKq_uOfD-lHfGPl03zj7uZHpGf3FyrMw8jiOMHO4S9U2-KfUsRY0iWskLBAxCRkPwJgP-KoGeMSoo/s320/20150929_115429.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have been back to the store to buy more canning jars four times and I am out again! </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes I love it, and yes I am very excited to have good, local, healthy food put away for my family this winter but I am getting tired. I feel like it has become my full time job. My kitchen is nuts and I am running out of room for all these jars! </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have caught myself complaining about it all. My feet hurt at the end of the day and I was crazy frustrated when I had to throw out a whole box of cucumbers that I could not process before they when bad. Seriously, I am complaining that I have too much food, a great deal of it free. Hold The Phone?! This is crazy. I want all this food, I love it. I even prayed for a bountiful harvest. And now I am complaining. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> You know, I have felt this same feeling before. There have been times where I am overwhelmed by things, or people that I love, by the abundance of what I have been given. And is that is the way God works. He give so much it blows us over. And if I do accept what God has to give me I love it but it will without question change my life and challenge me in new ways. And sometimes His abundance is so big that I don’t feel like I can handle it. It is too much. I am too small. I can’t take it all. (That is too much zucchini!) </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But if I do say yes, I let His gifts come even if I can’t figure out what to do with it all, I am always better off. I have what I need in the “winter” moments. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But if my fear takes over it is ok. Unlike my cucumbers God’s gifts don’t go bad. And if I can’t say yes today, He will offer it again. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-53483135951991535712015-09-25T12:53:00.000-07:002015-09-25T12:54:13.309-07:00CSA<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Starting in March we have tried something new. We joined a CSA (Community Shared Agriculture). Basically this means that we have our own farmer. Every month we pay Farmer Keith a certain amount and we get a share of what his farm produces. As a farmer he can count on receiving a wage regardless of the weather, crop failure, bugs ect. As a consumer I know where my food comes from. I know that my money is supporting a local family. And I get a </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">crazy </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">amount of food for a great deal. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7146b168-060c-78eb-240a-187cf8773218" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Honestly I don’t know why this is not the normal way people get their food. Instead of going to the grocery store I get to go meet Keith on pick up day. I get to chat with the other members, get my food without the neon lights, the stuffy mall and the “Men’s Health” cover models staring at me in the line up. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, I still have to go to the store sometimes because Keith does not have dairy cow nor does he grow pineapples. But I still think it is much better way to get our food. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Augustine’s first food was food that Keith grew. (They both thought that was great.) I now know how to cook Kohlrabi. (Last year I did not even know what that was.) I am beginning to understand how connected we really are to the earth. (We go only a few peas this year because the field flooded because we got too much rain in August.) We are eating healthier and for less money. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://saskecofarm.com/" target="_blank">Check it out. You might have a CSA near you</a>. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-35677057900602636962015-09-08T10:36:00.000-07:002015-09-08T10:36:04.552-07:00Happy Birthday Mary!Today is the feast day of the nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. That is a long winded way of saying it is Mary's birthday.<br />
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I try (and usually fail) to celebrate feast days and other notable liturgical times in our house. I think they are great times to teach the kids about different aspects of their faith, it connects us with the wider world church and it is a great excuse to eat cake!<br />
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So today we made Marry a birthday cake. But as any good mother she would like a healthier version (and I still have way too much zucchini) so she is getting a Chocolate Zucchini Cake.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwPCc8056iq7HBtNnVM7VwzYcMmaj8jN8O0SeZnU2AcqQ6zRfjOC1nZNah9UbEgAh90tIxtAcAxdem9cZkyVcjwL7MrcsuG-4bbQf-4gIEVwi8L6Noo0GnWAcEyBtHqX_boDMPn904oqn/s1600/20150908_105636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwPCc8056iq7HBtNnVM7VwzYcMmaj8jN8O0SeZnU2AcqQ6zRfjOC1nZNah9UbEgAh90tIxtAcAxdem9cZkyVcjwL7MrcsuG-4bbQf-4gIEVwi8L6Noo0GnWAcEyBtHqX_boDMPn904oqn/s320/20150908_105636.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpvhiFhKe5Y_DRnWwozNez1Ghkguc3FEkXQiKCm1v3RJ6vzzWw_601SqeUm2oKnHYNU5MWAv_C3D_L9G5LQ_UsfSX6_U4AcRkSYVUxsoChip4egr1f-O351hyD7F9cH2uXfI4JbKX_gzO/s1600/20150908_110040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpvhiFhKe5Y_DRnWwozNez1Ghkguc3FEkXQiKCm1v3RJ6vzzWw_601SqeUm2oKnHYNU5MWAv_C3D_L9G5LQ_UsfSX6_U4AcRkSYVUxsoChip4egr1f-O351hyD7F9cH2uXfI4JbKX_gzO/s320/20150908_110040.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Here is my recipe</div>
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2 cups pealed and sheared zuchinni (a little more if you are desperate to get rid of zucchini)</div>
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2 eggs</div>
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1/2 cup oil</div>
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2 teaspoon vanilla</div>
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mix all that together in a bowl</div>
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then in another bowl mix:</div>
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2 cups flour</div>
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1 1/4 cups sugar</div>
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1 teaspoon salt</div>
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1 1/2 teaspoons backing soda</div>
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and 1/3 cups cocoa powder.</div>
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Add the wet to the dry and mix it all up. I add a handful or two of chocolate chips because I love chocolate.</div>
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Bake for about 25 to 30 mins at 350. </div>
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This cake is so good that even my most picky, vegetable hating kid eats it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQSL3Wjh8lLyGsSAX5OmiuoHUUKl1gRxCxLiiCdR4pUTJGkTDslDJaO5MF7bNe_Rugg5JSjSOqfZJBbEPaw3EsJPQTtwQW1KE6y8WXPQAM4vH3tfEVg-OMjf2vgBoYF6J_hGyKg2XhtWUc/s1600/20150908_113226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQSL3Wjh8lLyGsSAX5OmiuoHUUKl1gRxCxLiiCdR4pUTJGkTDslDJaO5MF7bNe_Rugg5JSjSOqfZJBbEPaw3EsJPQTtwQW1KE6y8WXPQAM4vH3tfEVg-OMjf2vgBoYF6J_hGyKg2XhtWUc/s320/20150908_113226.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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So happy birthday Mary. And happy feast day to you!</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-88804304159597378392015-09-01T11:41:00.001-07:002015-09-01T11:41:50.345-07:00First Day of School <p dir="ltr">We survived the summer. Three camping trips, one working vacation and a family visit behind us. New teachers and new shoes ahead of us. <br>
Now I think I will do something fun and relaxing today. Like reorganization my pantry. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWgJS6-mECnUKfMcfrmZTf2pjuv9YThdZkUxxUHZbHsjPuxSilHuLWVvTmVyF67vz6tebCkZSDAKSIa1Z4Zf7ngPCBQ4VlK8vsT-Q0RnqyUqgArENlFc8j03cHBfpvZjj5L5OOKlldg_iq/s1600/20150901_082342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWgJS6-mECnUKfMcfrmZTf2pjuv9YThdZkUxxUHZbHsjPuxSilHuLWVvTmVyF67vz6tebCkZSDAKSIa1Z4Zf7ngPCBQ4VlK8vsT-Q0RnqyUqgArENlFc8j03cHBfpvZjj5L5OOKlldg_iq/s640/20150901_082342.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-72230779157098050482015-08-27T14:13:00.001-07:002015-08-27T14:13:20.585-07:00Attack of the monster zucchini <p dir="ltr">Some of the kids are more scared then others.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlmeirC2MZSyGQ9M3spe80mOgr2R9_LagVeLJlt7s8TrRrZptA4UgN4wyK4TLF_OAPF36IQPp8YZ_LXR5NYFEC9prklUJLpMPYCsWs_6Uk20w4whbxNzQyckzbE7HOyvKutQWRI5zswf8/s1600/20150827_151113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlmeirC2MZSyGQ9M3spe80mOgr2R9_LagVeLJlt7s8TrRrZptA4UgN4wyK4TLF_OAPF36IQPp8YZ_LXR5NYFEC9prklUJLpMPYCsWs_6Uk20w4whbxNzQyckzbE7HOyvKutQWRI5zswf8/s640/20150827_151113.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdgbv63EYoLKJH6ebOrKLDo-H6bm54gc_HtWxzSEWHGTIByuuj5jVKwcUU1xa4tVfhbqXfYd_p2wGe4eeX0NOqWvPNKkJXy1i2YU0MbLnyPQD7tQUXcsYe8Z-kl7r2paWhOoGhj7PzHzL/s1600/20150827_151058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdgbv63EYoLKJH6ebOrKLDo-H6bm54gc_HtWxzSEWHGTIByuuj5jVKwcUU1xa4tVfhbqXfYd_p2wGe4eeX0NOqWvPNKkJXy1i2YU0MbLnyPQD7tQUXcsYe8Z-kl7r2paWhOoGhj7PzHzL/s640/20150827_151058.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-30629264765885782902015-08-25T07:44:00.001-07:002015-08-25T07:44:05.974-07:00Last days of summer <p dir="ltr">One of the great things about being married to a teacher is summer holidays. We have had lots of easy mornings with time for tea and books. But soon it will be back to school. So we need to get as much in the next few days as we can.<br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOO7Orobqhby_oF-5h-XFDpro1QaoDKQJXZ8zHyyRaI8oqvmW0CUPQgaZS2hZ8v4-g58K3HVajyIo7-mZ4m8s6F15_mrxasYv3QasoP3p7J_Cbgv0d3nfvUkrsUgP9DGeaTs8N0pGdIFx/s1600/20150825_083951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOO7Orobqhby_oF-5h-XFDpro1QaoDKQJXZ8zHyyRaI8oqvmW0CUPQgaZS2hZ8v4-g58K3HVajyIo7-mZ4m8s6F15_mrxasYv3QasoP3p7J_Cbgv0d3nfvUkrsUgP9DGeaTs8N0pGdIFx/s640/20150825_083951.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-83475608518012538622015-08-06T07:38:00.001-07:002015-08-06T07:38:43.037-07:00How to Have the (almost) Perfect Camping TripWith our tent-trailer in tow we set out to have the perfect camping trip. And we (almost) succeeded. Here is how we did it.<br />
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Step 1: <u>Pick an awesome family to go with you</u>. This is the most important step. Ideally this family will remember to bring all the things you forgot. Like sand toys, after-bite and forks. Of course you might remember a few things they forgot. Like beer.<br />
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Step 2: <u>Pick the perfect campsite.</u> Most people would think that months of research and booking well in advance is the way to do this. Our technique is to wait until a few weeks before you want to leave and then pick the only site left in the province that has two spots available. But we still got the best spot ever.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0P_pdLvqLJSkoime3nitFpgH0AT34wrtm-CBo9WeKz6Wf1eid6oF9UzLJXh5easWdzN9xNVMuYG81cVwREwxkBMh8ZYnOafTq_2R3Ea63lyy7SFbs7pn_P3tVhvk8MbRMFUcydDAs2NJx/s1600/20150721_111259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0P_pdLvqLJSkoime3nitFpgH0AT34wrtm-CBo9WeKz6Wf1eid6oF9UzLJXh5easWdzN9xNVMuYG81cVwREwxkBMh8ZYnOafTq_2R3Ea63lyy7SFbs7pn_P3tVhvk8MbRMFUcydDAs2NJx/s320/20150721_111259.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Step 3: <u>Get good weather.</u> It is best to time your camping trip for right after the worst fire season in history. This is handy because you can still have a camp-fire but there are almost no bugs.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tanzns2m5zjtUIjMpf9vvxV8QijJ4xbHCwleWF8rNO7Lv7kT6ifoSBNRaBzEKYLUQhRcOl0YYYteolz2tlNizojAno3JgRpgBW5R62KzX79t2ckgH-Vy43fI1y9pHyavluw6a-wmN8sF/s1600/20150721_113955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tanzns2m5zjtUIjMpf9vvxV8QijJ4xbHCwleWF8rNO7Lv7kT6ifoSBNRaBzEKYLUQhRcOl0YYYteolz2tlNizojAno3JgRpgBW5R62KzX79t2ckgH-Vy43fI1y9pHyavluw6a-wmN8sF/s320/20150721_113955.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Step 4: <u>Spend most of the day at the beach:</u> Best activities are swimming, boating, sandcastle building and laying in the sun.</div>
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A few things to avoid. Titre-totter accidents that involve nine stitches! Or one camper getting a violent stomach flu. But if you insist, make sure your camping buddies include two seasoned nurses and a clinic twenty minutes away. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jWn2ddP4z6co0nsRsyoLGvNWMEAt1J1V2uMYhH5_jsvt3Tr783yVVhQZOcvypqbkR6okORMzUg83CNeXlVC-SqzB0CiZ-CYJmM0h9gLCykP9IMtWfaS1Lh4mmHN84lMYje8HPM8FxZky/s1600/IMG_1251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jWn2ddP4z6co0nsRsyoLGvNWMEAt1J1V2uMYhH5_jsvt3Tr783yVVhQZOcvypqbkR6okORMzUg83CNeXlVC-SqzB0CiZ-CYJmM0h9gLCykP9IMtWfaS1Lh4mmHN84lMYje8HPM8FxZky/s320/IMG_1251.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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These are what summer memories are made of. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-76194073011896982062015-07-18T08:24:00.002-07:002015-07-18T08:24:52.878-07:00Love Rebel<div dir="ltr">
Spelling and writing have always intimated me. When at the end of grade two I could not read or write both my teacher and my parents knew something was a miss. But it was not until grade five that I was officially diagnosed with dyslexia. </div>
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Because of the loving support and hard work of my parents and some of my teachers I had a pretty successful school experience. But even in university writing was still very scary for me. I always had my long sufering sister read over my essays many times before handing them in. And later my cute, funny and smart boyfriend (now husband, still cute, funny and smart) had to be my editor. </div>
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I am still a horrible speller. My kids know to not ask me for help with spelling. Math, science, sure. Ideas on what to write, sure. But don't ask me how to spell anything. I'm not kidding - I am often stumped by grade three spelling words. </div>
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So starting this blog a few years ago was a bit intimidating. The voice of some of my less-than-supportive teachers, and my inner critic are very loud and sometimes shout down great ideas. But they might not be able to shout so loud any more, as I am about to be published.</div>
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Yes, that is right, the dyslexic girl who failed grade two is now a published author. </div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B011QLTGDI/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=15121&creative=330641&creativeASIN=B011QLTGDI&linkCode=as2&tag=thinkcatholic-20" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMRa1XefqFi3oZZyAgfwPCj3Rlr15lysI1x2LY1OYvPx0m9hn4YQ_9rnuVomJAsMZcO3loT7krGf26bu-__VyF07huQPs9PnxnXa4E8tqHV-PQSGkiuZhE8Zworz_NEPGY1q0ASLXESq-/s320/LoveRebel-FRNT.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
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"Love Rebel", is a anthology of Catholic mom bloggers, available on Amazon and direct from me in Saskatoon. Anna Eastland has copies in Vancouver. </div>
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Thank you to all of you for supporting me, for reading my blog, leaving comments and always encouraging me to keep writing. There is no way I could have done this with out you guys. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-57145984128612501432015-07-15T08:37:00.001-07:002015-07-18T08:05:04.874-07:00Four year old logic <div dir="ltr">
Four-year-olds have a special view of the world. </div>
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This summer we have been playing alot of cards. It is a dying art and lots of fun, most of the time.</div>
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But today, during a game of Old Maid, tears and screaming was the result. Little Miss four-year-old was refusing to accept the queen when it came to her. Big seven year-old brother was very upset by this cheating. </div>
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When we asked Little Miss about it, she said, "I am the special princess, and princesses don't lose!"</div>
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Oh my, I have a job to do, or she may be awfully shocked at life. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-33808644682429931132015-07-14T14:44:00.003-07:002015-07-14T14:44:40.114-07:00In Praise of mess<div dir="ltr">
As many of you know I don't like to clean. I find it tiring and frustrating. <br />But I have always felt bad about having a messy house. I have felt that somehow I was less virtuous or less deserving then other people because of my mess.</div>
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This became more obvious when we moved. I had this beautiful big house of my dreams but I could not keep it picture perfect. I remember thinking "it is not fair that I have this house when neater more organized people are living in apartments"</div>
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But you know what? Lately I have started to question these thoughts. Don't get me wrong, I still think there is a lot of good in cleanliness and organization. But I might have some virtues in my mess.</div>
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Two different friends on two different occasions have commented that they could learn from my relaxed ways. And these are amazing successful woman and loving mothers who, truth be told, I am a little intimated by. They always seem to have it all together. But I kind of see what they might be getting at.</div>
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Yes my house is a mess and I am frequently found chopping vegetables with my cutting board balanced on top of three dirty plates of various sizes. But I also let my kids walk barefoot in the mud because it feels good. We spend our evenings playing cards as a family in a messy kitchen . And I would way rather dig in the garden with our four year old then do laundry. </div>
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Ok, this means that my kids always wear miss matched socks but I does not bother me. To be honest I think it looks kind of cool. My kids are often seen around town with breakfast still smeared on their face. </div>
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But on the other hand my kids are not afraid to play and get messy. They make amazing creations in the back yard or their rooms. And my oldest just make milk shakes for his siblings in the new blender all by his self. (He asked permission, but was not worried about making a mess and neither was I)</div>
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Lots of times I am frustrated this my messy ways but I can see that sometimes the mess is part of a fun-loving, creative, relaxed family. Maybe I have a gift under all this laundry. A gift of remembering what is really important and not getting upset by the small stuff.</div>
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So next time we are all out on the town and I notice that one of us is still in their P.J.'s and another has two different shoes on I will remember that creative energy has its price.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-20186950041973761292015-07-08T15:39:00.001-07:002015-07-08T15:39:58.964-07:00What happens when you leave Dad in charge<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH6LE3uN9NdindROF7Y4UqtWU5HL90AxUo7WBULnQ0au4JnGMSEbaMz_uKxbT_0ALJ0MyaFktIohHsQ-upXjqYFlhL6g19gsC46_UZvl8UjCfhHPEqe3SEuAJNiDML8oFqFnitqSL54uev/s1600/20150708_163800-755160.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH6LE3uN9NdindROF7Y4UqtWU5HL90AxUo7WBULnQ0au4JnGMSEbaMz_uKxbT_0ALJ0MyaFktIohHsQ-upXjqYFlhL6g19gsC46_UZvl8UjCfhHPEqe3SEuAJNiDML8oFqFnitqSL54uev/s320/20150708_163800-755160.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6169270219724861074" /></a></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-21775355641367305282015-07-06T08:07:00.000-07:002015-07-06T08:07:39.123-07:00First Fruits<div class="mobile-photo">
After a week away I came home to a gift in the garden. But if the zucchini plants keeps this up my kids may not be so thankful to be eating zucchini at every meal!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-26567756880997866282015-06-15T07:47:00.002-07:002015-06-15T07:54:48.314-07:00Echoes of snow.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
On a bright sunny summers morning it is good to remember what my world looked this only a few short months ago.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUGXsUOUNVY8u9hhLa5EQxIuBo3eRL9Kxl3LKY3iiaVNdzBkjhzxxnFGLfQaRrOm06y2bSXjxouEvkcEeY0UBP1qjL5lM4gvdw9V31_PI3_2mFLbfxneOr9uXCm9cpaWkCfO5KUpeqJLk-/s1600/20140217_154809.mp4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUGXsUOUNVY8u9hhLa5EQxIuBo3eRL9Kxl3LKY3iiaVNdzBkjhzxxnFGLfQaRrOm06y2bSXjxouEvkcEeY0UBP1qjL5lM4gvdw9V31_PI3_2mFLbfxneOr9uXCm9cpaWkCfO5KUpeqJLk-/s320/20140217_154809.mp4" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-8436242100643643162015-06-10T12:28:00.001-07:002015-06-10T12:28:52.665-07:00How does your garden grow?<p dir="ltr">It has been a dry, hot month. This has meant that I have been out watering in the early morning, usually with a cup of tea in hand. I love those moments. Standing in my bare feet, pj's still on, listening to the birds sing their morning prayers. Under that big sky that is often already heating up the earth I feel God in the simple existence of the earth. The biggest miracle I know is that any of this is here. </p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivw_w4C5bdbSk3lufQDPAlRc8KnKJRr-j3MjQzNvcJpXmXJKFC9BiqXmc_WKFy8WV34njpzDBM5Es-Pc3qECGN_qZ54eOHd4fqkKDm9ecGRXiFJsVdIJ9p7bqo8Mn35az3pdQlM8KZ36a/s1600/20150604_075809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivw_w4C5bdbSk3lufQDPAlRc8KnKJRr-j3MjQzNvcJpXmXJKFC9BiqXmc_WKFy8WV34njpzDBM5Es-Pc3qECGN_qZ54eOHd4fqkKDm9ecGRXiFJsVdIJ9p7bqo8Mn35az3pdQlM8KZ36a/s320/20150604_075809.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I mean the baby carrier. Yes, I also made the baby but I can't take total credit for him.<br />
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I have been using a ring sling for the last few months with this little guy, but now that he is not so little my back was getting pretty sore. I could not find my old mei-tai carrier. (I think it got lost in the move). So crazy lady I am, instead of buying a new one, I make one.<br />
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I think the prairie pioneering spirit is infecting me! <br />
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(If you want the instructions I followed check out <a href="http://www.grumblesandgrunts.com/">www.grumblesandgrunts.com</a>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-80937497197445675352015-05-28T13:28:00.002-07:002015-05-28T13:28:30.953-07:00It goes so fastWhen I had my first child I was so excited by every new milestone he reached. I wrote everything down in his baby book. I even had to add in new sections to the book so I could include everything I wanted to record. I was very proud that he was "advanced" as he smile a week before the books said he should. I was so anxious for him to role over, sit up, crawl. I was always ready for the next step.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Us with our first born</td></tr>
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But now, as I hold my youngest boy all I can think is that he is growing too fast. Over this first five months of his life I have held him every chance I could get. I held him even when "the books" said I should put him down. But with 12 years of parenting under my belt I know that the days that I can hold him will be over very soon.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I was very happy to see his smiles come "early" and I will be excited when he starts to crawl and at his first steps. But they will also be a little bitter sweet because I know that those first unsteady steps will be the first of many that will take him on his journey.<br />
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I already miss his newborness. I love that he is so alert, that he laughs and interacts with his siblings. It was pretty fun the first time he rolled over. But I miss his little rolled up fists, his sleepy grey newborn eyes and that he was small enough to hold all the time. Now he is too big. My back gets sore, plus he wants to wiggle and move.<br />
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<br />As I was doing laundry, I found a sleeper that he has outgrown. I held it for awhile before I put it away in my "too small" box. This sleeper was one that I passed down to all my kids. I know that twelve years ago, when my first wore that sleeper, some nice lady told me to treasure every moment because they go so fast. It was not that I did not believe her, but it felt like he would be this small forever. Every day (and night) felt like a year. But now, I get it. It goes so fast.<br />
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I know that I can not stop time. Nor do I want to hold my kids back. I want them to grow up and become they great people they are meant to be. But I want hold then now, as they are today. Not push them too fast forward either. Because they are only going to be this size once. And if I forget to pay attention I might miss it.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029004617885095439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2696161618364581937.post-72333388153982042962015-05-27T17:12:00.001-07:002015-05-27T17:12:56.839-07:00Prize<p dir="ltr">Look at what I found in my cereal box! Now that is a good prize. </p>
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