tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45768103172524442172024-02-06T23:56:46.673-08:00Tucker, Addie & Associates: The Best Job I'll Ever HaveTamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.comBlogger213125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-43445307147758415102012-05-09T08:58:00.001-07:002022-01-29T11:58:56.742-08:00Negotiations...With a Three Year Old.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This story is several weeks old, but one that MUST be documented. Just so I can recall all the ways her children will repay her when she's a Mommy. ...because I fully believe in that kind of karma! <br />
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I made cupcakes. Truly beautiful, fluffy, chocolate cupcakes. They were delightful. My kids love cupcakes...even crappy cupcakes, they love them...but these cupcakes were about as good as they come. Tucker and Addie spend a good portion of the afternoon asking about cupcakes, knowing they had to wait until after dinner. <br />
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Dinner time. Tucker eats everything. EVERYTHING. (some days I'm pretty sure he'll wake up as tall as Daddy) Addie...well, she decides to play her cards. She eats a few, select items off her plate. Asks for the coveted cupcake. No dice. Few more bites. Cupcake request. Denied. Meltdown. The kind that leaves your kid snotty, screaming, arms swinging violently, certified full fledged meltdown. I must have saved all the patients I had for that day for this very moment. God knew it was coming so he helped me with a "patients reserve", and man did I need it. With all of this unexplained patients, I was able to simply watch her lose her ever lovin' mind for the next 45 minutes. Screaming "cupcake", crying (most of it fake crying, but still annoying nonetheless) and displaying a general hatred towards me and my cupcake withholding behavior. Stay strong Momma. <br />
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FORTY FIVE MINUTES PASS...<br />
<br />
Have I gone deaf? I look around expecting to never hear the delightful sound of my childrens' screaming again...<br />
<br />
I walk into Addie's room to find her exhausted, snotty, wild haired, and red in the face, laying in her bed. I sit down. <br />
Mommy: "Are you ready to use words?" <br />
Addie: "yes."<br />
M: "Do you know why you didn't get a cupcake after dinner?"<br />
A: "No."<br />
COME ON....REALLY??? RIDICULOUS. ....but remember, I have a patients reserve that will blow your mind...continue with my insane conversation with a gentle loving tone...<br />
M: "You didn't eat all your dinner. The deal was, eat all your dinner, get a cupcake. Tucker ate all his dinner and he got a cupcake. Did you eat all your dinner?"<br />
A: "NO"....crying starts again...<br />
M: "Settle down. Listen, I'll save your cupcake for you. If you can eat all your dinner tomorrow, you can have your cupcake. Is that a deal?"<br />
A: "I'll try. But can you make a better dinner tomorrow?" ...she was dead serious....<br />
M: "I'll try." ...I can't get out of the room fast enough, I start laughing hysterically...and so does she. So much for stellar parenting. I just blew my cover, she's hilarious. </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-20802254086742547462012-05-08T14:32:00.002-07:002022-01-29T11:59:22.252-08:00Gut Check<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ever have one of those Mommy moments? You know the one. You question why you have children. How did my life turn into navigating Lego IEDs on the floor? Or opening a Barbie Salon because that hair is too tangled to even put in a ponytail. Cleaning the same room EVERY NIGHT...knowing that it will blow up again as soon as school is out and it will be same routine as the night before, and the night before that. Having a real fear that my ears will bleed from hearing "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy" for hours on end. Cleaning, cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning kids, cleaning. That's a pretty accurate description of my daily routine. <br />
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And then there's the other kind of Mommy moment. You know the one. The one where you can't ever imagine your life without these adorable, loving children in your life. When you see your kids hug each other, and you know they are sharing real love in that moment. Listening to them giggle with delight as you push them on the swings. The unsolicited hugs, kisses and snuggles that sneak up on you during the day. The fact that they are still willing to hold your hand as you walk them to school...you know that crap isn't lasting forever! <br />
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I had a Mommy moment just last week, but one of a different kind. I had an opportunity for a job that would have challenged me and given me a chance to get back into the working world. I wasn't fully qualified, but hey, why not try. Everyone I talked to supported my decision to apply and someone even flat out said that I'd be stupid if I didn't apply. I even asked my kids what I should do because taking this job would effect their lives too. <br />
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So I thought about it for a week and decided to apply. My husband said "Type your resume and cover letter, print it out, set it on the counter for me and I'll look it over when I get home." I wanted his input, I needed his approval...just for my own peace of mind. I wanted to know that he really supported me going back to a job. I sat at our computer and began typing a resume. I got half way through it. I started to question myself. I cried. <br />
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That night, instead of a resume and cover letter, I wrote my husband a letter. I told him that I love taking care of our family and that I'd do that over anything, any day. I do not want our kids in daycare just so that I can go babysit some grown ups at my new job. I told him that my crying was probably irrational, but that it was speaking to me. I don't cry like that and when I do, it means something. My tears were saying, "Stay home. You won't ever get these days back." Print the letter, place it on the counter where my resume was expected. <br />
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The next morning....nothing. The only thing I noticed was my letter was near the computer. No note. No response. No love. I left the house that morning to take my kids to school with some disappointment and sadness. I had failed him. My wishy-washy attitude towards taking this job had pissed him off. He's very straight forward, no BS, say what you want, get the job done, kind of guy and I was crying and going back and forth on my decision. <br />
<br />
I dropped my daughter off at preschool, got in the car, and checked my sidekick (iPhone) for my email. <br />
<br />
Email titled: Your Letter.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #454545; font-size: 12px;"><div id="yui_3_2_0_5_1336509795798582">
Tami,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I just got home and read the letter you left for me. I'm extremely happy that you've come to a definitive answer regarding the director job. I know how you feel torn between making money and being with us. I feel torn, too. I go through days where I don't want to take another call, but you and the kids are counting on me. But no matter what, I will always keep fighting to keep us together; even if that means enduring the turmoil of this job. Every time I start to feel the pressures of life, I stop and picture you, Tucker, and Addie. That simple image in my head reminds me that I'm the luckiest, most blessed, man on Earth! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_5_1336509795798569">
I don't want you to think that you're letting me down. The most important thing to me is this family. And at the core of this family is you. You're the one that holds us all together. I certainly could not be half the person I am, and we would not have the wonderful children we do, without you. I want you to be happy. I want you to feel like you can chase your own dreams. I am, and will always be, here for you. You are amazing at so many things, and I'm fully confident that whenever, and if ever, you choose to pursue some sort of career, whatever it may be, you will be amazing at that, too!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All my love and support,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #454545; font-size: 12px;">Matt</span><br />
<br />
Sobbing...uncontrollably...but for a different reason. Because I had a Mommy Moment. One where you feel appreciated, loved, understood and supported. The one where you know you have the best kids and you know without doubt that being home with them is a blessing. Above all those things, I know for absolute certain that I have married the perfect man for me. Nearly eleven years later after we said our vows and I love him more now than ever before. We are no where NEAR perfect, but we are perfect for each other. Tucker, Addie & Associates lives on. What a blessing. </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-61993212767084781872012-04-30T11:07:00.000-07:002012-04-30T11:07:14.930-07:00Bye Bye Bunnies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After a goodnight's sleep and a strong cup of coffee, I slowly and respectfully approached my Mac and blogger.com in an attempt to put the bunnies to rest. I don't know if it was the extra sleep or the recent surge of caffeine, but who cares, bye bye bunnies! I'm not going to pretend that I love what is showing on the background of my blog, but I'll be happy with it for now. It will be bright and fun for summer, you may not be seeing any changes for several months. I wish I was more blog savvy, for many reasons. I would like to know what the hell I'm doing, but that's just not real right now. I would need hours of patients and brain power, and that's a rare find in my house. Just finding quiet time is rare...but if you're reading this blog then I can only assume that your children run circles around you day and night, like mine do. <br />
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So here we are, the end of April....trying to redeem myself from what seemed like a full FAIL in my blog life. I feel like the "bye bye bunny" will give me a sense of relief as I approach my blogger redemption. This is official....I'M BACK! </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-57601551155617606462012-04-25T20:59:00.002-07:002012-04-25T21:02:21.424-07:00Right Back Where I Started.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I'm a technotard. Just when I had committed myself to a bloggerific lifestyle again they go and change the whole damn thing again. I can't get the effing bunnies off the page. I want a baseball that I found...but damn those bunnies they won't go away. I'm over it. Every single time I sit down and just want to write something clever or make fun of myself for navigating my life as a mother in a less than stellar way, I end up wanting to take my mac and chuck it out the window. So...I'm right back where I started. Returning to a life of entertaining writing and a way to share my neurotic behaviors in a humorous way.....oh the bunnies. I'm serious. There is so much to share. For example, the <i>If You Give a Mouse a Cookie</i> way that I came to clean my gutters yesterday. That's a good one, but I refuse to tell the story while there are bunnies on the page. So I dedicate my whole blogging time to getting the bunnies to go the eff away. I guess I need a large, black top hat to put them in because magic and voodoo seem to be the only way I'm going to get something else on my screen. Oh, and I got new running shoes. I've been working hard in PT and got cleared for running again.....but NOOOOOO, the bunnies are preventing you from hearing about that too. Ok. Well my blogging time has now expired and all you have gotten is a page full of complains, half starts to excellent blogs, and bunnies. Effing bunnies. </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-70341142811793235202012-04-06T08:45:00.000-07:002012-04-06T08:45:18.585-07:00Have Fun, Love Baseball<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Can you smell it? I can. It's spring (it tried to be sunny) and we were playing baseball. <br />
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Last night started Tucker's second season of T-ball. He is fulfilling hopes and dreams that I had, literally, when I got pregnant. I knew that it didn't matter whether I had a boy or a girl, this kid was going to be in LOVE with baseball. He isn't letting me down...and neither is that little girl of mine. <br />
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I'm not going to lie, I felt like I was a kid again being out on the field. I was happy, energetic, and in love...with baseball. I am also ecstatic to hear that the 2 coaches who have taken the lead to get the team formed, have officially invited me to join them. I get a hat and shirt this year! It's official. I'm a coach again. The really great news is that I won't have to stage another coup this year to take control. They have bowed down to my awesomeness much earlier this year and have succumbed to my mad skills, or good looks, you pick. ...although I'm CERTAIN it's the mad skills, or maybe the goofy demeanor I use to teach the kids or to scare them out of running in the giant mud puddle on the field. Either way...shirt and hat. Official. <br />
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Addie was my shadow on the field. She followed me everywhere, she yelled out everything I was yelling, she wore Tucker's cleats from last year that he outgrew. She is perfect. The only thing she is missing is a pink glove to protect herself from <i>that</i> kid on the field. The one who randomly picks up a baseball and chucks it into the air without any regard for where it will land. One of those random throws lands on my girl's head and that kid is gone. (By the way, same kid who couldn't stay out of the mud puddle. You see a pattern? I do. He might not like me much when he year is over.)<br />
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Tucker was much less timid this year. He jumped right in and handled himself very well. The team divided into two groups: new players and players with one year experience. I was working with the rookies, so I didn't see much of Tucker. I thought that was good for him to work on independence and confidence alone instead of leaning on Mommy to encourage and guide him. He told me after practice that he didn't feel like he hit very well, but that he had fun. "Mission accomplished", I thought to myself. Who cares, at this level, if he ever hits anything...just have fun. Fall in love with baseball. You can learn skills and strategy, but not unless you love the game. That's ALL I hope for this group of young boys, have fun and love baseball. </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-74294016313884243252012-04-04T21:05:00.000-07:002012-04-04T21:05:13.989-07:00Unintentional Sabbatical<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">After more than a year of being blog-free, I'd like to first start by thanking my two faithful "followers" (one who apparently is too shamed to show their face on my blog) for faithfully following my REAL, undocumented life. Well I can claim that truth for one of you, the other mystery follower...I can't be so certain. <br />
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I'm trying to even think of all the ways my life has changed in the last year and the list is long and wonderful. I will just start listing things that have happened. The list will be horribly out of chronological order, but hey my life is a little out of order...very fitting.<br />
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*I really think this is fitting to be first, since it was such a struggle and game changer in our family. Addie is potty trained. It took her 3 years, 1 month, 26 days and 14 hours (or 1,659,727 minutes) to make that choice, but she did it. I was under the impression that girls trained earlier and easier than boys. She blew that theory out of the water. Nothing to could convince this girl. Not candy. Not bribery. Not threats. Nothing. Her choice, her terms, her time. But Amen...she did it. finally. Oh yeah, and it all clicked like a week before preschool started. Which brings me to #2. <br />
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*Addie started preschool. She goes to the same preschool that Tucker attended. Addie goes 2 days a week. Those are glorious days. <br />
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*Tucker started kindergarten. (please pass me a tissue). As an educator, and his super biased mother, he is excelling in school. He is a great reader, has a great phonics knowledge base and his social skill are what I would expect. However, because my husband and myself are first children (you know <i>those</i> people) we over analyze his kindergarten report card to the point that I was on the Oregon State Standards website critiquing the teacher's evaluation of Tucker regarding every standard. It's kindergarten. I know. I understand that fully. Those are my issues, not his....moving on.<br />
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*I have become something I never thought was genetically possible for me. I have become a baker. I will admit that the perfect, fluffy, moist chocolate chip cookie still eludes me, but I have other confections that just might beat that old standby. I have mastered the cakepop. I still want to experiment with fondant and making them <a href="http://www.bakerella.com/" target="_blank">Bakerella</a> cute, but I have the basics: excellent flavor and creative ideas. I'm also going to claim to have a good handle on cupcakes, but I want to experiment with flavors and frostings. This is a fun hobby that I wouldn't mind making some money doing, but until then it gives me a creative outlet and a reason to exercise. <br />
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*The man of the house has also been a very busy man. He has recently taken on a new business venture, in addition to his regular job. He is rare species in our home these days, but we are making the best of it as he works tirelessly to build his future empire. <br />
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*Both kids took swimming lessons. They were both so timid in the water that they had to take level 1, twice. They finally passed. <br />
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*I ran my first half marathon in June 2011 at the Seattle Rock N Roll Marathon. You know that moment when you feel like a super hero, and you are pretty sure that if you could take just one more step you could take off in flight? Yeah, that never happened to me. When I got done I felt like a champ, but I didn't feel that great physically. Here's my rookie advice. If you think you are going to run anything beyond a 10K, get a running group. Hang out with people who know what the hell is going on. I trained under the advice a good friend, but ran nearly every mile alone. I didn't know when to hold 'em, fold 'em, or when to walk away.... Now I'm dealing with persistent shin splints, a sports medicine doctor and a physical therapist, and of course, INSURANCE. Dude, just get a running group. That's what I'm doing next time. Well, next, next time....this year I'm already signed up for two half marathons that I'll be walking, to my dismay. (Jockin' Mike D to my dismay.....I can't say dismay without giving a little "WASSUP" to the Beastie Boys. Holla if you feel me!)<br />
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I think I'm going to leave it at that for now. We will have many upcoming adventures with the anticipation of spring actually acting like spring in the next few weeks, maybe. Oregon: get it together. Your bipolar weather disorder is really bringing me down. I need vitamin D for my wellbeing. Tball starts this week, please let it look, feel, and smell like baseball outside. Please. <br />
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Thanks again to my 2 followers. I feel so important!! ha ha ha! </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-26662368272290898592011-03-03T13:16:00.000-08:002011-03-03T13:40:09.010-08:00What do you do?My sweet and beautiful sister-in-law loves my blog and I heard that she recently asked my Mom about my blog. I believe the story went something like this..."I love Tami's blog. I wish she posted more" My Mom: "She's really busy" SIL: "Busy? What does she do?!?" Wow...that question is so deep on so many levels. Some days I can't list the things I do because they are so great in numbers. So let's just take yesterday, for an example, here's what I did. <div>1. Woke up at 7am, after going to bed at 1am.</div><div>2. Made breakfast for 2 kids, and then cleaned the dishes.</div><div>3. Food/water for K9.</div><div>4. 2 kids dressed.</div><div>5. 2 kids waters and snacks for the car</div><div>6. Mommy dressed...of course there is an audience because you no longer have your own identity or privacy.</div><div>7. out the door...wait, did I remember diapers and wipes...back in the house....back to the car.</div><div>8. 2 kids in carseats</div><div>9. Arrive at Mother in Law's house.</div><div>10. Clean her house for 2 hours, while the kids have snack and drop crumbs on the carpet I just vacuumed. </div><div>11. Make lunch for me and kids.</div><div>12. Clean up lunch dishes.</div><div>13. shoes/socks/coats/toys and kids back in the car, but not before I have to chase them around to herd them into their carseats. </div><div>14. 3 hours at OMSI...2 kids, 1 mommy.....again, it's like herding cats. </div><div>15. cook dinner for kids</div><div>16. run 2.5 miles </div><div>17. clean dinner dishes</div><div>18. check email....the first time I've sat down since lunch. </div><div>19. 2 kids dress down/brush teeth/bathroom/bathtub</div><div>20. 1 kid can dress himself, Mommy dresses the other kid</div><div>21. 2 cups with water for kids at bed time</div><div>22. make sure that all comfort items are in the correct beds, blankets and all.</div><div>23. read 2 stories</div><div>24. say prayers</div><div>25. good night....for the kids.</div><div>26. Listen to a little girl yell for her mommy for 30 minutes.</div><div>27. Eat a cold dinner.</div><div>28. Do the dishes, again. </div><div>29. Call my mom, only to hear the question posed by my SIL...."What does she do?" It was so funny, that I was in tears. I'm certain I didn't list everything I did, and not even one worry or thought that went through my mind all day...like when I couldn't find my daughter at OMSI for a split second. But physically, that's what my body did....and I'd like you to take note, SIL, a shower for Mommy was NOT on that list. I haven't showered yet today either, and it's 1:32pm...I'm hoping that if the kids don't start fighting because I've been on the computer blogging, that I might get a shower. </div><div><br /></div><div>I would love for my other Mommy Friends to take a moment and make a list either as a comment here on the blog to share with my SIL, or just for your personal use. Writing down what I do during the day really helps me validate that I DO EVERYTHING!!! Sometimes at the end of the day, I feel like I've done nothing because every last thing I've cleaned is dirty, once again. I don't even want to get started on the laundry issue. That's a battle that will one day kill me, I'm certain of that. </div><div><br /></div><div>I LOVE YOU S.D. You are a perfect mate for my brother, and we are all so lucky to have you in our family. I would encourage you to come to a "job shadow" of motherhood....it will blow your mind and be some of the most powerful birth control on Earth. </div><div><br /></div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-73286984530181875142011-02-03T14:52:00.000-08:002011-02-03T14:54:26.103-08:00Just Plain CuteI don't have a big story that goes along with this, other than she dressed herself. She's adorable and I love her so very much.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UpKfealMcaJWFUzBYN5H8ucDmWghPpEC3f1LvFEVmZo0IDC1GgA76FKg4zOUJwFuLlwLyLJkfaB-tID6AtMuhcbsm4s1HeOHXQRHYvY5qlkuLoRwXEF9Sf5iS9xo1OKaWrqLXmYFTZs/s1600/IMG_0024.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UpKfealMcaJWFUzBYN5H8ucDmWghPpEC3f1LvFEVmZo0IDC1GgA76FKg4zOUJwFuLlwLyLJkfaB-tID6AtMuhcbsm4s1HeOHXQRHYvY5qlkuLoRwXEF9Sf5iS9xo1OKaWrqLXmYFTZs/s400/IMG_0024.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569600157872489730" /></a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-60558432301484614822011-02-02T21:38:00.001-08:002011-02-02T21:41:57.067-08:00Dog-NephewWe are watching after my Dog-Nephew, Matador, while my sister-in-law is on Oahu getting married and having her honeymoon. Today we took him for a walk and Tucker loved it! Tucker can't walk our dog Bo, because he pulls too hard and Tucker can't handle him. Tiny, cute Matador can give a tug, but nothing that Tucker can't handle. It was so cute watching Tucker walk him around the park because he kept saying, "Look Mommy, it's like I have my very own dog!" He has been talking about wanting his own pet, but has yet to think of a pet that he doesn't have to clean up the animal's poop. We will probably be getting a cage and a pet rock soon. Until then, we have our dog-nephew, El Matador! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ijkuPTUfuiwm60coMksfBbVgnyLcCtji8BU4-aGv85xY8COKA2fnFeYN-7NGRfM_ueoL0cbexo1l4jajhc2Zkaaf0DkpAm9WnKakKFPJBPEiEwm_QXxWWGVnlj8hOFtEIgLWQVZGdJw/s1600/IMG_0028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ijkuPTUfuiwm60coMksfBbVgnyLcCtji8BU4-aGv85xY8COKA2fnFeYN-7NGRfM_ueoL0cbexo1l4jajhc2Zkaaf0DkpAm9WnKakKFPJBPEiEwm_QXxWWGVnlj8hOFtEIgLWQVZGdJw/s400/IMG_0028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569333485805919842" /></a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-39980100199351218942011-01-29T21:10:00.000-08:002011-01-29T21:13:55.742-08:00Shut it DOWN!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia38In3Jnw4IsoKGht6xp0IOJ_01-uVItuFnzRTO_14WPD852AghyeaTBevNoQpUUFrLYvLNG7wbXHkN9qHqXbt8OhNBC5CMYT99wITJYMXpwtNQ7lICCHSX_UG4ppp1s0SeMIgFOEt1k/s1600/IMG_0538.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia38In3Jnw4IsoKGht6xp0IOJ_01-uVItuFnzRTO_14WPD852AghyeaTBevNoQpUUFrLYvLNG7wbXHkN9qHqXbt8OhNBC5CMYT99wITJYMXpwtNQ7lICCHSX_UG4ppp1s0SeMIgFOEt1k/s400/IMG_0538.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567842005159900034" /></a>When you drop your kid off at Fred Meyer <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Playland</span> and he says he doesn't need to go to the bathroom first, he is lying. He needs to go to the bathroom. He will only tell the attendant that he needs to go as the urine is running down his leg, into his socks and shoes and onto the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">playland</span> carpet. <div>Not only did I learn not to trust a five-year-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">old's</span> judgement on whether he has to go potty or not, I also learned that when your kid pees on the carpet, they have to shut down shop and shampoo the carpet. Your welcome, other moms who were hoping to drop their kids off at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">playland</span> for some free childcare. Better luck next time, my kid just peed in there. </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-88686743340342160192010-12-18T11:04:00.000-08:002010-12-18T11:15:17.199-08:00I'm late, I'm late, I'm late....I think next year I'm just going to admit the fact that I can't seem to get this Christmas card thing done in a reasonable amount of time. My plan is to order the cards that say "Happy New Year!" so that I won't be considered late. Today is December 18th and my Christmas cards are sitting behind the photo counter at Costco. I'd love to blame this whole situation on the fact that my whole family, aside from me, is sick and that I haven't left the house in days. But the truth is, I just submitted my order 3 days ago. I really wish that I didn't have this affliction of tardiness, but it's real and it's me, at least with things like this. So with any luck, today I will find a few minutes where Matt is awake, and not at work, where I can run to Costco alone so I can get started on sending out my tardy Christmas cards. Let's just focus on this....better late than never. And worse case scenario....Happy New Year!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPU1vt0tiqPSbJOfnPxGWmL4Le_tI1Av9QTtGcfV2qnyajjYwccsMQCzhGjAfGg4C7a7vbwpCkPvgsM53pmTOYCE-xyXAtVC2HNBGHN6KqDgOgeHkknVn_Y0_4ihvWznP5bDzof92Nb7g/s1600/IMG_7119new.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 245px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPU1vt0tiqPSbJOfnPxGWmL4Le_tI1Av9QTtGcfV2qnyajjYwccsMQCzhGjAfGg4C7a7vbwpCkPvgsM53pmTOYCE-xyXAtVC2HNBGHN6KqDgOgeHkknVn_Y0_4ihvWznP5bDzof92Nb7g/s400/IMG_7119new.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552100365462296482" /></a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-60200114587232233422010-12-04T21:18:00.000-08:002010-12-04T22:40:44.157-08:00Move the Elf, Move the Elf...just keep reminding yourself...Move the Elf.Addie passed out in her bed with her arm hanging out the side. I know every kid does this, but I love it. I also love that Dora's foot is in Addie's face! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0rJwCRC0sxdceN859lW9LFcy3DzFuyWDmDz87tV5h-PAG-8P0y3_l_m5bRrkQYOS1BwTSQNGo_M_Hc_D12fOqJcnLjWFBRR0cyI4V4O0peWoHMDrMcHd1f81gpxXYcgHrj6qJyflidw/s1600/DSCF3243.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0rJwCRC0sxdceN859lW9LFcy3DzFuyWDmDz87tV5h-PAG-8P0y3_l_m5bRrkQYOS1BwTSQNGo_M_Hc_D12fOqJcnLjWFBRR0cyI4V4O0peWoHMDrMcHd1f81gpxXYcgHrj6qJyflidw/s400/DSCF3243.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547063577186090082" /></a>These are the Christmas <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">jammies</span> that Alabaster Snowball (our Elf) delivered this year from Santa! Tucker's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Pjs</span> have Santa in rockets flying around the planets (Nick & Nora @ Target) and Addie has <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Santas</span> all over her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Pjs</span> (Carter's). They both LOVE the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Pjs</span> and they are wondering why they can't wear them every night. These <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">jammies</span> are going to get lots of love...and trips to the laundry, probably every other night!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1F7PPb_os9B35AWjeitg85tbsqWdtP5tI7IaSOkqZt6OfDpP7bA8Hnt7K83xXc4tPJL1Bge_mr0kgeHIKI9o0HFKEJ1G07c74eOiXRdQ7_dQ-67pN6gqW2V3PbFPzt2hbKkO1wYgiDho/s1600/DSCF3240.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1F7PPb_os9B35AWjeitg85tbsqWdtP5tI7IaSOkqZt6OfDpP7bA8Hnt7K83xXc4tPJL1Bge_mr0kgeHIKI9o0HFKEJ1G07c74eOiXRdQ7_dQ-67pN6gqW2V3PbFPzt2hbKkO1wYgiDho/s400/DSCF3240.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547063573015797906" /></a>So this morning I really felt the heat of all the fun and exciting traditions I've got going. I came SO CLOSE to dropping the ball this morning. <div><br /></div><div>Here's how it goes: <div>Tucker whispers in to my room, "Mommy, Mommy, Addie is awake. She wants you." Only half believing him, because I don't hear her, I roll out of bed and head towards her room. By the time I get there, Tucker has climbed in her crib. (yes, still in a crib. She has made NO attempt to climb out, I have made NO attempt to spend money on a new bed.) They are playing nice and looking so cute and Tucker asks Addie, "Addie! Where do you think Alabaster Snowball is hiding today?!?" </div><div><br /></div><div>....Oh Crap. My mind is racing...."I thought about moving that elf. Did I do it? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ummm</span>....NO! CRAP. NO! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ok</span>...stall.... you are good at this Tami. Stall."</div></div><div><br /></div><div>I get Addie out of the crib, and I leave Tucker there. Although he is nearly FIVE years old (a whole separate and tear filled blog topic) he claims that he can only climb IN the crib, but can't get out. PERFECT. So I get Addie out, change her diaper (again...a whole separate blog...I've got a lot of blogging to do) and I leave Tucker in the crib. While I'm changing her, I ask Tucker to do a series of "favors" for me, like turn off Addie's music, help Addie get her dolls out of bed, anything to keep him from following me to the living room where, no doubt, Alabaster is still in the same spot. </div><div><br /></div><div>I step out of Addie's room calmly, but my very next step takes me into a flat out sprint to the living room. I jump up on the chair, grab the little bastard elf out of the giant stocking decoration and look desperately around the room for a new hiding spot. No time. Small feet approaching. Crap. Think Fast. No hiding spot. Here I go....I shove poor, little, bastard elf, Alabaster up my shirt and calmly say, "Man, I guess he's not hiding in here today! Tucker can you please let the dog out?" As Tucker agrees and heads for the sliding glass door, I take off for the other room looking for a hiding spot. The fastest spot I could find was up on a shelf amongst our nativity scene. NICE. I'm calling Alabaster a bastard elf, and then I go and throw him up there with Lord Baby Jesus. Lord help me. </div><div><br /></div><div>So as the kids come in the room to find Alabaster, I go back to the other room to find a quick treat to throw in the advent calendar...another lovely and fun tradition that has me running in circles every morning!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>I love it all and I wouldn't change a thing, but that little Alabaster sure did give me my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">cardio</span> for the day! </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-41719871642542733612010-12-01T10:58:00.001-08:002010-12-01T11:18:18.720-08:00It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5DmmSqjZM38PMmjHcTme8OJzlZ6NnabNU4T0tCh0FRRwBrW7ZqKykjgW_siWRvHkFbyFBUs4H357nf4hF7o0InkJaITkrp4elregJhiIe0AN-LgjBUJRhR5e8_0FgR11V92Nly6hCKE/s1600/Washington+Squ_20101129_000183.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5DmmSqjZM38PMmjHcTme8OJzlZ6NnabNU4T0tCh0FRRwBrW7ZqKykjgW_siWRvHkFbyFBUs4H357nf4hF7o0InkJaITkrp4elregJhiIe0AN-LgjBUJRhR5e8_0FgR11V92Nly6hCKE/s400/Washington+Squ_20101129_000183.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545790412957604594" /></a>I'm biased, I can't even hide that fact. I birthed them, I love them, I'm raising them to be decent human beings (hopefully), but really who can deny that they are beautiful? Have you ever seen two kids, at the same time, be so happy to see Santa? I've never witnessed it with my own eyes. I can't even claim this victory to my name. This was really how they felt. I did no coaching, prep work or bribing for this perfect picture. <div>As we were walking down the mall, headed towards the Santa village, Tucker caught a glimpse of the gargantuan structure and started jumping, hopping and yelling, "It's SANTA! It's SANTA!" He was, by no means, using an "inside voice" but I didn't even care. When your kids are jumping with a pure joy that you can vaguely remember having as a kid, you don't care what kind of scene your child is making. Everyone was looking, smiling and giggling at the sight of Tucker approaching Santa. Addie was excited too, but looked more like she was on a top secret mission where she just needed to approach the objective and complete the mission. She walked with a very quick and meaningful gate, which told me that she was ready to announce that she wanted everything Strawberry Shortcake, as soon as possible. </div><div>While waiting in line, Addie couldn't stop walking around in circles and Tucker...well honestly, in those 5 minutes of waiting, he made all the holiday madness worth it. Those moments in time will stick with me forever. It was one of those MommyMoments where you feel like you have conquered the pentacle of parenthood. You are the hero, you have delivered your child to Santa...and IT IS AWESOME. Tucker physically couldn't stand still. If his feet weren't walking, his hands were shaking, if his hands weren't shaking, then his arms were flapping. He was physically out of control! I can only imagine how crazy he felt in his own body! That must have been a rush like he's never experienced before. </div><div>When it was their turn to visit Santa, they both bolted towards him, jumped into his arms and gave him the biggest hug! So much for Stranger Danger. They sat on his lap and told him what they'd like for Christmas. Tucker wanted every remote control toy on the planet...robots, spiders, trucks and snakes. Addie wanted Strawberry Shortcake. After a brief from Santa on all the ways to behave (listen to your Mommy and Daddy, be nice to each other, and above all things, tell the truth. Not bad Santa. Want to come over every Monday and give "the talk"?), the kids jumped down from his lap. They both turned around and gave him another death grip hug and said, "Thank you!!". </div><div>I really hope that every trip to Santa gets better and better, but I do know that all good things come to an end. One day, they won't want to go see Santa. One day, they won't even believe in all this hokis pokis. But for now, we have a magical Christmas season that will live in my heart and memory forever. </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-91856569585352855602010-11-29T10:07:00.000-08:002010-11-29T10:16:11.795-08:00Blogger Anger ManagementI'm having some serious and real anger problems when it comes to my blog. I love this blog and I think about blogging quite a bit. I just can't bring myself to deal with the technology that is required to change my background, pictures and whatever else I think I need to do to keep up with all those out there with this cute, crafty blog. It makes me angry. There is Original template and then Designer template. My problem is that I think I want Original, but when I try to do that it doesn't seem like the same blog I used to understand. So then I go with the Designer and then it never comes out looking like I want it to. I'm just smart enough to get the basic job done, but not smart enough to make it do what I want. So the bottom line is this...I want to blog, blogging makes me angry. I'm going to try to get some therapy over the issue and get back to posting about my awesome life as a Mommy. I really need to be blogging because with Christmas approaching I have heard some pretty awesome things in the last few weeks.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-26460753468094346462010-10-04T18:14:00.000-07:002010-10-08T23:46:29.925-07:00Time Machine BlogIsn't it stunning how much children change in one year?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS9AVs1Y1qd-qq77Fvy3KSj2ULnX2jgP0mW985Ti4K8JlBO37Ngg-9yqBt-Y7QTTQUZkS9OLGEGLgLx8SgGBIBgQcPAcx9j6KHPLx_KdGOG05Y83u3_8HA1s2ElpLcKrmxVnZy2r9e250/s1600/IMG_4066.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS9AVs1Y1qd-qq77Fvy3KSj2ULnX2jgP0mW985Ti4K8JlBO37Ngg-9yqBt-Y7QTTQUZkS9OLGEGLgLx8SgGBIBgQcPAcx9j6KHPLx_KdGOG05Y83u3_8HA1s2ElpLcKrmxVnZy2r9e250/s400/IMG_4066.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525930643804516098" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlg4BAqX4DULN6AkkCLZieFAxgXGp2jZHIOAmyiMoYDBFfkTJxF-HzErnfZBaSrTGKofGuZ3svUALs25hL0AD5EDkkHsPCOBPqWhzhyVeoZXooYyJv5d927UjS8DQ9qPhyphenhyphenkEnRXIamsk0/s1600/IMG_0994_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlg4BAqX4DULN6AkkCLZieFAxgXGp2jZHIOAmyiMoYDBFfkTJxF-HzErnfZBaSrTGKofGuZ3svUALs25hL0AD5EDkkHsPCOBPqWhzhyVeoZXooYyJv5d927UjS8DQ9qPhyphenhyphenkEnRXIamsk0/s400/IMG_0994_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525930637901741570" /></a>I feel like as crazy as my life is, and as hectic as it feels with two young children I just want to freeze time. They are precious. They are cute and funny without even trying. They still think I'm cool. They want to cuddle, hug and kiss me and they WANT to be with me. Sometimes this feels like a curse to have children hanging on you 24/7, but I'm already starting to think about the days, that will be here sooner than I'd like to admit, where they don't want to spend time with me. I find myself being a softy for things that I would have normally put the smack down on. The main example I can think of is Tucker sneaking into my bed at night. I really do want my bed to be MY bed, but if I stop for just a second and think about how that shows how much he wants to be with me, I often break down and make a little room for him. I know he won't always want to spend time with me, cuddle me or even tell me about his life, and I feel like I need to gobble him up as much as I can now. I love four, and really as much as she can push me to the edge, Addie is a perfect 2 1/2 year old. She is funny, witty, and a loving little girl. She has started telling me that she loves me. I love the look on her face when she says our "I love yous" to each other. I say, "I dub you, Honey" and she says, "I dub YOU, Honey". I really need to get video of that. I hope that's something we can say to each other forever, but I think it will always be more special to me...well until Addie has her own daughter to know this intense love, then she really will understand. Why am I crying??? This happens quite a bit when I'm blogging. Maybe that just means that I don't take enough time during the crazy day to realize how precious and intense motherhood really is to me. Tomorrow I will try to focus on the little things, appreciate the attention (even the negative attention) and know that one day, I'm truly going to miss these days.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-25209202567894911442010-09-13T23:18:00.000-07:002010-09-13T23:20:58.126-07:00I Am Warrior, Hear Me Roar!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Sh2WscQan6DGG_RMFpT2PXP1n2G4nm0Vim4LvxIGKoOVKiqPqgCqSw_qJ9HTjzrIZP8bB8WKHCaNUVo85oqXzWwKnvIzyjR1Cc4xM8ccdcc97ZrUj_vgtl6kSOCclWtFrO-7iGt9oE0/s1600/IMG_0960.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Sh2WscQan6DGG_RMFpT2PXP1n2G4nm0Vim4LvxIGKoOVKiqPqgCqSw_qJ9HTjzrIZP8bB8WKHCaNUVo85oqXzWwKnvIzyjR1Cc4xM8ccdcc97ZrUj_vgtl6kSOCclWtFrO-7iGt9oE0/s400/IMG_0960.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516650085772823506" /></a><br />My good friend Olivia asked me if I wanted to do the <a href="http://www.warriordash.com/">Warrior Dash</a> and who would pass up the chance to hang with your friends, drink beer and get muddy? Not this girl.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDG8TKbg-SSsvUuYu2fGCX4EsVngCCg6IYrJZv88Zuh1tcrm4S7FOfB_Pt38pYXBtWLwNLp04ISPxmbl7XmabMcmYeZtAEC5yPKW_rqydv8tghUxaBq1oKpFwH7O6DY6tqJQ_2dW1Itw/s1600/IMG_0373.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDG8TKbg-SSsvUuYu2fGCX4EsVngCCg6IYrJZv88Zuh1tcrm4S7FOfB_Pt38pYXBtWLwNLp04ISPxmbl7XmabMcmYeZtAEC5yPKW_rqydv8tghUxaBq1oKpFwH7O6DY6tqJQ_2dW1Itw/s400/IMG_0373.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516638869060950994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></a>It seemed appropriate to run for CPT John Hallett for so many reasons. First of all, I've never been able to participate in Lisa's Run To Remember running group and this was my way to Run To Remember John. Also, the run was on September 11th and what a way to honor a soldier than to remember him on a day that forever changed the path of his life. And finally, I needed all the good Army Ranger vibes I could get! Thanks John, you didn't let me down! I felt strong, capable and I had a blast.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9B4tNh9IApiBSBdinGePKe32gc_qa-NS_hhqp2vHZtBGyRyHYcJEfOnxamOfEPblYtEwdRNpj2JGGs0VczHcxipIleLbPW1C8gVb_iFQntWG33MN1g9PV3cKzD891bggkL9dIW7pVL2w/s1600/IMG_0375.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9B4tNh9IApiBSBdinGePKe32gc_qa-NS_hhqp2vHZtBGyRyHYcJEfOnxamOfEPblYtEwdRNpj2JGGs0VczHcxipIleLbPW1C8gVb_iFQntWG33MN1g9PV3cKzD891bggkL9dIW7pVL2w/s400/IMG_0375.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516638861127986978" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></a>Clearly this is after the race! We were plastered in mud. I'm still working on getting some of the dirt out from under my nails. I know it sounds gross, but I've washed my hands, showered and soaked in a hot tub twice...and yet I can't get clean! So funny!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeS5QD3Lq5ZbAA0UwmGm3us8OZJ6LjJuQN6eFB1r6nqnE3fiERZvz4Ic-lzohFusTKvesOuIJud11Um1TGTB1a5QHNw2pkqmuOmXyP3ym3AnSEuAq8pc_CaJYEBzI7fa3WkH15hKpSmLM/s1600/IMG_0377.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeS5QD3Lq5ZbAA0UwmGm3us8OZJ6LjJuQN6eFB1r6nqnE3fiERZvz4Ic-lzohFusTKvesOuIJud11Um1TGTB1a5QHNw2pkqmuOmXyP3ym3AnSEuAq8pc_CaJYEBzI7fa3WkH15hKpSmLM/s400/IMG_0377.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516638852167607794" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><br /><div>This was a GREAT GREAT day and I'd do it again in a second. As much fun as the run was, my favorite part of the day was when all my friends after the race were cleaning the mud and hay off John's picture so that people could see why I was there. There were a few people who said they liked my picture, but never really commented. However there was one guy, late in the day, who came up and said, "Excuse me, who is CPT Hallett? Can you tell me about him?" I wanted to cry, I wanted to jump up and down with excitement, I wanted to hug this guy! I think people were afraid to ask. But this guy, he made my day. I got to talk about John, Lisa, Jackson, Bryce and Heidi. I got to talk about the brotherhood that the Army is, both brothers in arms and us Army wives. I wish I knew his name, I wish he knew what that meant to me.<div><br /></div><div>Warrior Dash was a blast! Thank you Olivia for convincing me that I wanted to do it and that it wouldn't be THAT bad!</div></div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-19183363256582749642010-09-13T23:01:00.000-07:002010-09-13T23:05:42.715-07:00Lake Shasta: Additional PhotosAddie had a long day on the boat and needed to wash it down with a Mike's Hard Lemonade in a Brew Thru cozy. Nice. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE676Y242Cd0hRvWsg2dn6wAMt8ao8Wm4GIxoNFMeYsI79ulg0wymxrMlwGxMPU_Ro1fApxbt4Un1nkJ16k5n4Q5cBwTPAxz_Y3rh6n-1uWNvBzvZQCc4c99zRW6_k1T089sETIq_IlEc/s1600/IMG_0351.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE676Y242Cd0hRvWsg2dn6wAMt8ao8Wm4GIxoNFMeYsI79ulg0wymxrMlwGxMPU_Ro1fApxbt4Un1nkJ16k5n4Q5cBwTPAxz_Y3rh6n-1uWNvBzvZQCc4c99zRW6_k1T089sETIq_IlEc/s400/IMG_0351.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516645808436611138" /></a>This picture should have been first, but this was the incredible view of Mt. Shasta on the way to the lake. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ3jgyb53umoh88HmLxhz0x9R__wGJpNuwmgS-FOjXze7xS9okthbr76xjsMaA8HxPuSJJW2UHyKPRxhVbKYzZOdOs_0A3MxSvZgNK9MTzvP7f1JhmYKw13ORlRq-CXxpbUTeqjdAvzw/s1600/IMG_0344.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ3jgyb53umoh88HmLxhz0x9R__wGJpNuwmgS-FOjXze7xS9okthbr76xjsMaA8HxPuSJJW2UHyKPRxhVbKYzZOdOs_0A3MxSvZgNK9MTzvP7f1JhmYKw13ORlRq-CXxpbUTeqjdAvzw/s400/IMG_0344.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516645794577582242" /></a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-22925009670886442010-09-13T22:55:00.000-07:002010-09-13T23:00:34.451-07:00In N Out--Retro BlogIn N Out: These are half of the burgers we ordered when we went into Redding from Lake Shasta.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozrNUOyRCFFp2pJI-uhsRvqrY1f0qxbC0WZ7DV5wPYF5S5n_tCYC2i7w3HL_oPdhMTQxwjZMY3J86WL4_ablofvV2w6YAK0Avx4zfD80iS0_J89rVwdjBqzwCNxaVY5Ik-LsCmbk4om0/s1600/IMG_0354.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozrNUOyRCFFp2pJI-uhsRvqrY1f0qxbC0WZ7DV5wPYF5S5n_tCYC2i7w3HL_oPdhMTQxwjZMY3J86WL4_ablofvV2w6YAK0Avx4zfD80iS0_J89rVwdjBqzwCNxaVY5Ik-LsCmbk4om0/s400/IMG_0354.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516644250389745506" /></a>In N Out: Double Double Animal Style With A Chocolate Shake. Nuf said.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPZXSKsr2_CMnFhcBx_Pvq8fOulQtu_-LiaoOlC-HlFIvgDwG1bc44mbLIAZSSyJFoSfrnGk0dq-tPeKiFn5RDWZMsEhZBW2am1MhQ6aIXLH-ZsCWytukuiEleYaRvL5C0bO8MaK2rK0/s1600/IMG_0356.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPZXSKsr2_CMnFhcBx_Pvq8fOulQtu_-LiaoOlC-HlFIvgDwG1bc44mbLIAZSSyJFoSfrnGk0dq-tPeKiFn5RDWZMsEhZBW2am1MhQ6aIXLH-ZsCWytukuiEleYaRvL5C0bO8MaK2rK0/s400/IMG_0356.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516644241027131314" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGI1FSVKixSyIubYaRRFD6T88A6nXA0t94MohD6BsO0fRkuVqRMELIB50otwVbmD1qV_6EZcnrNjp1uInzOnHTlag20StSTkcFQhLkrZHMuOmfZt9KJs9iy3l312M6lCGlhyphenhyphenIBMUtT_U/s1600/IMG_0359.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGI1FSVKixSyIubYaRRFD6T88A6nXA0t94MohD6BsO0fRkuVqRMELIB50otwVbmD1qV_6EZcnrNjp1uInzOnHTlag20StSTkcFQhLkrZHMuOmfZt9KJs9iy3l312M6lCGlhyphenhyphenIBMUtT_U/s400/IMG_0359.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516644231863554898" /></a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-39014093807276268992010-09-04T19:44:00.001-07:002010-09-04T20:30:07.469-07:00The Vacation Crashers!The Vacation Crashers strike again! First we crashed Lincoln City and now we conquer an out of state vacation at Shasta Lake, California!<div><br /></div><div>Our family is lucky enough to know Gene, Patty, Stephanie and Emma. Anyone who knows them, loves them. They have the most fun, the best smiles, huge and genuine hearts and more love than most families I know. Tucker, Addie and I were lucky enough to spend 5 days, 4 nights with this exceptional family on a beautiful lake, with a fast boat and a cooler of beer. The only thing missing was Matt, but after I got home tonight I told him we need to start planning for next year so he doesn't miss it.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was Tucker and Addie's first time in the state of California. Addie's first time on a boat. Tucker and Addie's first swim in a lake (sad but true). And my first time driving alone in the car with the kids for 8.5 hours! They did a great job riding that long! I'm sort of on a Mommy-high where I feel like I can do anything and take them anywhere. I love it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have way too many pictures to share and I only have the pictures that were taken with my camera! This might have to be a mini-series of blogs to get all the fun in.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you Gene, Patty, Stephanie and Emma for making this one unforgettable vacation. You are very dear friends of ours and we appreciate your incredible hospitality. Your friendship is a blessing in all our lives and we love you all so much. We look forward to our picture sharing date! I'M ON A BOAT!!!! :)</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25eXIBR6P1DNkZ_xabSVC2I67I65aqk1mRYX0sskAFMjQ4chUtAHhkDimPYONK17Lt10b021EIYYQMIqVtG0K37doaK_R7ym3Bh8WvFwaUPsGR_ezt_yT6HXgpzo9sSvCZ9aAbwol1ck/s1600/IMG_0947.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25eXIBR6P1DNkZ_xabSVC2I67I65aqk1mRYX0sskAFMjQ4chUtAHhkDimPYONK17Lt10b021EIYYQMIqVtG0K37doaK_R7ym3Bh8WvFwaUPsGR_ezt_yT6HXgpzo9sSvCZ9aAbwol1ck/s400/IMG_0947.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513259981025709378" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3HdwKcBV-l8xhc-BgpSL9m7s-g88-n_UfOJS7sRUY3lpikSpeL6hkqFNvU1QxoWbC_bOLPdT4Ox6apOagH53uJbOY5l91kLPHZdXXZIdoYixlpkD9B1L7Vq3KfT_zMICHsfbLwpyBHE/s1600/IMG_0915.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3HdwKcBV-l8xhc-BgpSL9m7s-g88-n_UfOJS7sRUY3lpikSpeL6hkqFNvU1QxoWbC_bOLPdT4Ox6apOagH53uJbOY5l91kLPHZdXXZIdoYixlpkD9B1L7Vq3KfT_zMICHsfbLwpyBHE/s400/IMG_0915.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513259979042943426" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-0L-22ANls795eeA86NWfDId2YWEhrWqcbfSRwHAi9Z6VJn9Vc2ndQD2csoT6ADfatPGzQNqpwk1sCZqra4JUT8DOMkrDU18ITbrKD324cPg9WCIv1B3eic-NV9OAlFsManXM2fPizs/s1600/IMG_0894.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-0L-22ANls795eeA86NWfDId2YWEhrWqcbfSRwHAi9Z6VJn9Vc2ndQD2csoT6ADfatPGzQNqpwk1sCZqra4JUT8DOMkrDU18ITbrKD324cPg9WCIv1B3eic-NV9OAlFsManXM2fPizs/s400/IMG_0894.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513259975921362946" /></a><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghvSeW78nL9vLo3REtBKrg-2LFKWtPmhQiRmWvTDP4A0YcyI730lq8jELERJB7uMOqbwTCxItpZAAK7OyyMAn3xDTJ_hhZwq1klrT65Eff0Mqh03yJzazYvskABeLrrSkiza2Z7zWwVM8/s1600/IMG_0927.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghvSeW78nL9vLo3REtBKrg-2LFKWtPmhQiRmWvTDP4A0YcyI730lq8jELERJB7uMOqbwTCxItpZAAK7OyyMAn3xDTJ_hhZwq1klrT65Eff0Mqh03yJzazYvskABeLrrSkiza2Z7zWwVM8/s400/IMG_0927.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513259270830679442" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHf5cknE2XZUqkZheommFTAJqngLzi3-t3UhaOiRjVgcYxkh1U-uBjjwrhJNjV2jSzJOLry8wqUXIhsgo9a3cm6Oo5swPO_kRESIUBWOZPzkIRcwvlacAO0IIucbe0y_iZ1UYUY9nXhi4/s1600/IMG_0949.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHf5cknE2XZUqkZheommFTAJqngLzi3-t3UhaOiRjVgcYxkh1U-uBjjwrhJNjV2jSzJOLry8wqUXIhsgo9a3cm6Oo5swPO_kRESIUBWOZPzkIRcwvlacAO0IIucbe0y_iZ1UYUY9nXhi4/s400/IMG_0949.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513259267086785026" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GGUC3wXKoP9m5sUxUtBXspSchY93_Ppo9ynXmrVRJM4EDQW-cvan1g4JB90gdBuecpbmaTsbON2SODEe1j0Vx3d1Il7C9WbCK7yyAIr9otJzpRyGd6rMhS_091oTfoT1trMY6ECHHJU/s1600/IMG_0907.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GGUC3wXKoP9m5sUxUtBXspSchY93_Ppo9ynXmrVRJM4EDQW-cvan1g4JB90gdBuecpbmaTsbON2SODEe1j0Vx3d1Il7C9WbCK7yyAIr9otJzpRyGd6rMhS_091oTfoT1trMY6ECHHJU/s400/IMG_0907.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513258561787562498" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAVGYxzmkuqf4GSzk7IleBirIpBsN1ApLDvD8TqM8wBn-2LaRyv8-UK8EFYhfK2dQo7wneFyhaRH4o7Yd1ihg-NYZMs5C3rEgofSQVy5Ywka3NaPGsyFgkNvj1Lft3t83mjroQVeqK2Q/s1600/IMG_0887.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAVGYxzmkuqf4GSzk7IleBirIpBsN1ApLDvD8TqM8wBn-2LaRyv8-UK8EFYhfK2dQo7wneFyhaRH4o7Yd1ihg-NYZMs5C3rEgofSQVy5Ywka3NaPGsyFgkNvj1Lft3t83mjroQVeqK2Q/s400/IMG_0887.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513258554241924002" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-_F-5h6i-9WLR4D_o3u0FKZ9pD_ekEyFTmwMEiM31hTPYdK3oMauc-bsr-UQMP3fSigNnSF8N3jUHTwhz2velSLWeDrHefd9WBTWQUGP8PT6-LZUZXZEAl8p1R4ro-dMA20CE2rjb-U/s1600/IMG_0898.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-_F-5h6i-9WLR4D_o3u0FKZ9pD_ekEyFTmwMEiM31hTPYdK3oMauc-bsr-UQMP3fSigNnSF8N3jUHTwhz2velSLWeDrHefd9WBTWQUGP8PT6-LZUZXZEAl8p1R4ro-dMA20CE2rjb-U/s400/IMG_0898.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513258544443746434" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_MJqmPwjfQP09Bo4QSTAwQiAvcPny8TH1Oj5l8hDvk_MJfWJDM-yDBFkhKsIzNOr3r07iXniIvYt367YaKrd0M4XR_6e3Xgmewe4fWwd8rPE17ulBbzV_bod0U6rw4W-lDxNvnXdQso/s1600/IMG_0886.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_MJqmPwjfQP09Bo4QSTAwQiAvcPny8TH1Oj5l8hDvk_MJfWJDM-yDBFkhKsIzNOr3r07iXniIvYt367YaKrd0M4XR_6e3Xgmewe4fWwd8rPE17ulBbzV_bod0U6rw4W-lDxNvnXdQso/s400/IMG_0886.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513258534896494258" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_yKP3TXmXuuQAYcEThTMzDYSFrlWRqMK3xJ2r0tN9bYvvEPbZ1LcXiC6Sj4_GmfLFxvEhbCgpjht898pjatmqj88VYpnsbk7hseCwE_s6uIHZZMwrsrhPTrIM2RnPSv9vEir7TWsep0/s1600/IMG_0884.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_yKP3TXmXuuQAYcEThTMzDYSFrlWRqMK3xJ2r0tN9bYvvEPbZ1LcXiC6Sj4_GmfLFxvEhbCgpjht898pjatmqj88VYpnsbk7hseCwE_s6uIHZZMwrsrhPTrIM2RnPSv9vEir7TWsep0/s400/IMG_0884.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513258532038378130" /></a><div> </div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-23159862708712488592010-08-25T08:38:00.000-07:002010-08-25T09:15:49.140-07:00August 25, 2009Today my heart is heavy. Today a few will gather to honor a soldier. Today marks the first anniversary of the loss of a solider, a husband, a father, a son, a brother, a friend. Captain John L. Hallett, III was an outstanding, hardworking and loving man. <div><br /><div>He could swim like a fish. He loved to cook (and thankfully was equally as good at putting out fires). That Vidalia Onion will get you every time, John! He had a smile that could light up a room. He LOVED his wife. There was a passion there that is unmatched in most relationships. </div><div><br /></div><div>John loved to organize! We met John and Lisa at Fort Benning, GA in 2005 and from the time we met John he was "organizing my music". I never knew exactly what that meant, but it was serious business! When we all moved to Fort Polk, LA in 2006, John was still "organizing my music". I'm certain John never finished organizing his music because honestly, I don't think that would have been finished even if John had lived to be 90 years old. John loved the label maker. If you go into the Hallett home today, you can find all the places John labeled things, in the kitchen especially. If John was here, he would spend a whole weekend reorganizing the kitchen because last time I was there, not everything was in its place! He also had a hidden talent of rapping Too Short songs. I didn't even know John knew language like that, but he was so serious about it. We were all shocked at first and then laughing so hard we had tears rolling down our faces. The Halletts loved throwing dinner parties and welcoming their friends into their home. We shared many tasty dinners with the Halletts, and I wish we could have those days back. </div><div><br /></div><div>John has left behind a beautiful and strong wife, Lisa and their three children, Jackson 4, Bryce 2, and precious Heidi 1. John never held Heidi in his arms, but I can only imagine the way he would look at her pictures. I saw him with Jackson as an infant and went to the hospital when Bryce was born, and he loved holding those babies! I'm certain his heart ached every time he looked at Heidi's picture wishing he was there to enjoy his only daughter. Heidi is a very special girl, and she will know her Daddy's love even though he is no longer standing by her side. </div><div><br /></div><div>John, your service was honorable, your mission was intended to bring medicine to a village that was sick and you never made it there. The insurgents took you, the other soldiers and that medicine away from sick people. They have taken so much, from so many. You gave your life for the people of that village, and the Americans who are so thankful. I am grateful to have known you, John. Thank you for the blessing of your family, they enrich my life greatly. I will continue to stand by Lisa and be there for her and your three children. I won't let her down, John. You can count on me. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8DA3aC5rpBFQpUqVueN6H8AHeirqxFRl2pBylAGrJ6gEOuuBwyyOTiSh4AfqQWO2RR14S_x9Lxju8IbXbCMW73c_LK7GzcJEZvNe26kDEi0jkJGN1RYg1nzrBFPsRo2H3-Qzjb5-Pb4/s1600/33527_1551852674637_1184741037_1576836_1564856_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 313px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8DA3aC5rpBFQpUqVueN6H8AHeirqxFRl2pBylAGrJ6gEOuuBwyyOTiSh4AfqQWO2RR14S_x9Lxju8IbXbCMW73c_LK7GzcJEZvNe26kDEi0jkJGN1RYg1nzrBFPsRo2H3-Qzjb5-Pb4/s400/33527_1551852674637_1184741037_1576836_1564856_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509372280005602066" /></a><br /></div></div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-47561454738404471912010-08-24T15:02:00.000-07:002010-08-24T15:48:14.061-07:00One More Goodbye to the ArmyOn July 21, 2001 I became an Army wife. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but the Officer...well he was worth whatever it meant to be an Army wife. <div><br /></div><div>It was a challenging, exciting, unpredictable, lonely, confidence building and unforgettable experience. The Army taught both of us what we were made of, how tough you can be, how far you can push yourself and how far you will go to be with the people you love. I am the woman that I am, the wife that I am and the mother that I am, because of the Army. I am tougher than I ever thought. I'm more self-sufficient than I ever thought and it makes me proud. Much of my identity, if not all of it, was being an Army wife. </div><div><br /></div><div>We separated from the Army on October 8, 2008, a date I will never forget. On that day we became civilians. I had no idea what a departure that would be from who I had become. I felt, and still feel sometimes, that people don't understand me because civilian people can't understand where I've been. No civilian woman has put her husband on a blue school bus, kissed him through the open window and wonder if she would ever kiss his lips again. How does any woman find the strength to let that man go? We should all be hanging on their legs like two year olds, begging them not to leave. The memory makes me cry, right now, because that is such an impossible and powerful moment in my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>Deployment, probably more than anything, changed me. We didn't have children at the time, so my mentality was different. I would always think, "I guess if he doesn't come home, at least he's not leaving children behind that won't know their Dad. I could make it through, I would just keep living, somehow." I had to mentally drive on, and make my day count and pretend like I didn't have my hand gripped around my phone every minute of the day, waiting for a phone call to say he'd lived through another 24 hours in theater.</div><div><br /></div><div>Throughout the past 2 years, I have slowly been letting go of being an Army wife. Trying to decide who I am and how I need to adjust from Army wife to normal civilian person has been a struggle. I have missed the Army and the incredible friendships I developed. On the other hand, I can't imagine dealing with another deployment. As I continue to struggle with the transition, my last physical connection of being an Army wive was taken away today. My windshield is cracked and getting replaced this afternoon. My Fort Polk, LA window stickers had to be taken off the windshield. The tags have been expired for nearly a year, but there was something in me that wouldn't take them off. As I was peeling them off the windshield, I thought about how ironic it is that I waited as long as possible to put those stickers on my car because I didn't want to deface my beautiful, new car with ARMY stickers!! Little did I know how much my life would revolve around those stickers and the community that they represent. I have always thought that once an Army wife, always an Army wife. My husband might not be an active Army Officer anymore, but I am still proud as ever of my soldier. I am equally as proud of his wife, and what the kind of person that the Army has helped me become. This is my official departure from the Army, what a weird feeling. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZwCMp1e4ATakwPg4lX916v05MoC3bmHGigg2gSK3G2OjwRMfGDE3-BKfKYaw8rOUmwxxtQBGObvgIGf3NZd49MK9iDlUWqzfjQox8g2ZxI6gsO0CWXnO69FSvIWR_l4-u8tb4GHxnJI/s1600/IMG_0871.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZwCMp1e4ATakwPg4lX916v05MoC3bmHGigg2gSK3G2OjwRMfGDE3-BKfKYaw8rOUmwxxtQBGObvgIGf3NZd49MK9iDlUWqzfjQox8g2ZxI6gsO0CWXnO69FSvIWR_l4-u8tb4GHxnJI/s400/IMG_0871.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509100502178528594" /></a><br /></div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-28406063305494571842010-08-20T23:04:00.000-07:002010-08-20T23:15:41.130-07:00I'm STUCK! ...yes, again.<div style="text-align: center;">Let me just preface this by saying I did NOT do this to him, I did NOT witness him doing this to himself...all I know is that it happened and it is real. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReFpvlgil4Jb3XnUAqQjLWQ_h21bBLJ9XuSzJM931xHa1Q3LPh0Ia0GDKPBT_HUTywx7sEpI4sxZvJKiNnxEiDzZuDd_l7UWQrmK0nHEW-JA2i5eBsb7vFkCpRT-ixJq2QuM7uO-l6io/s1600/IMG_0869.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReFpvlgil4Jb3XnUAqQjLWQ_h21bBLJ9XuSzJM931xHa1Q3LPh0Ia0GDKPBT_HUTywx7sEpI4sxZvJKiNnxEiDzZuDd_l7UWQrmK0nHEW-JA2i5eBsb7vFkCpRT-ixJq2QuM7uO-l6io/s400/IMG_0869.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507740369464389042" /></a>So we are planning this most excellent trip to Lake Shasta, CA with some fantastic friends. In preparation for the fun boating times, we bought Tucker a lifejacket. He is not a swimmer, not comfortable in the water and we will probably have some serious challenges ahead in the lake. So when we bought this lifejacket, I did not pack it away in the garage on purpose. I wanted to leave it out where he could look at it, ask questions about it and try it on if he wanted to. So every day, since buying the lifejacket, he has asked me to put it on him. I'm thinking, "This is exactly what I was hoping for! Positive interest in the lifejacket! Maybe, just maybe, he won't be as hysterical on the boat as I think he will be". So on about the 5th day of having the lifejacket in the house, I hear Tucker calling me from the other room saying that he is "stuck". He doesn't sound freaked out, he's not crying...in fact, oddly enough, he sounds quite calm. I walk into the living room and find this. He has somehow straightjacketed himself into the lifejacket, but only one arm! I don't even know how you do this. I was laughing so hard. He doesn't even expect me to rush to get him anymore, he just waits for the flash of the camera.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-62688701115563416022010-08-20T22:55:00.000-07:002010-08-24T16:30:46.833-07:00Lincoln City, OregonWe took a great trip to Lincoln City, Oregon to meet up with some friends of mine from the college days! It was great to see everyone again and really amazing how 10 years can go by without seeing someone but the friendship picks up right where it left off. I'm thinking about crashing your annual beach trip from now on...the kids and I had a blast!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1OE1241gJMSxDwfixgo2_FI-F9R0wkJUlmcuDgzdF5EjhjZyHS8frWvRXIM01TzAxTPpD-2vw9XgzgvkSaB0axZvynOipYVghW2Gvg34pb2Y4mumM2LpgC88naz841qNUDu48rM2ML-o/s1600/IMG_0843.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1OE1241gJMSxDwfixgo2_FI-F9R0wkJUlmcuDgzdF5EjhjZyHS8frWvRXIM01TzAxTPpD-2vw9XgzgvkSaB0axZvynOipYVghW2Gvg34pb2Y4mumM2LpgC88naz841qNUDu48rM2ML-o/s400/IMG_0843.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507738539158117778" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The boys! Tucker is flying a kite and everyone is trying to get their hands on it next!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileAITHHezUvreDlQ7W_cS9JQgqhND_satcpRK1IPGn_BGdXvyQJToA80knHY6VMxgYFE_V2IRRaDuEOs6CmZSgWar4l8ECOb7MrShztiiThvejlhZh94JsDYa0-hLxwIBouh-XZz2OiE/s1600/IMG_0844.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileAITHHezUvreDlQ7W_cS9JQgqhND_satcpRK1IPGn_BGdXvyQJToA80knHY6VMxgYFE_V2IRRaDuEOs6CmZSgWar4l8ECOb7MrShztiiThvejlhZh94JsDYa0-hLxwIBouh-XZz2OiE/s400/IMG_0844.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507738530519792770" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Hillary and her beautiful daughter, Brindley.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwwNCfQfoUCtTy6j_Ree5z1r1XSDkTEY3CzHY8mL79IDiFPgECpI6BeBFRiZlg6or5Xaow116Fd-KoxRzgRCzfqGwgIz5M382AJZ6HjsREzz8nm4LWeiQIpetbGCQBtTP_71P8EPttOU/s1600/IMG_0848.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwwNCfQfoUCtTy6j_Ree5z1r1XSDkTEY3CzHY8mL79IDiFPgECpI6BeBFRiZlg6or5Xaow116Fd-KoxRzgRCzfqGwgIz5M382AJZ6HjsREzz8nm4LWeiQIpetbGCQBtTP_71P8EPttOU/s400/IMG_0848.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507738513938662002" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Addie and Cameron! I love what a ham he is!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8J42BUseuEReVSGJa4a1PkxybcsSt_pYydIObodzvoON_j4M7-jS8Dk7Wyz7hMdspNeDUcTigW48Suym3H-mIf_6eDSujFtPQD-wyqdWRZDijNWsp5RRiRcQcvEBeZC0_pq-DJeuBS1I/s1600/IMG_0865.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8J42BUseuEReVSGJa4a1PkxybcsSt_pYydIObodzvoON_j4M7-jS8Dk7Wyz7hMdspNeDUcTigW48Suym3H-mIf_6eDSujFtPQD-wyqdWRZDijNWsp5RRiRcQcvEBeZC0_pq-DJeuBS1I/s400/IMG_0865.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507738504355176514" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Addie and Tucker giving me their best posed smiles</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FKnkBEVGkA44KgDtfr2JYWiIrLAlbiBhRGUCARABtT_CLEz-RLdzuvZcV3BxPX-3P1vst4ESB5mV3XeO9S5C_q9ckGCm7JHzbIj7zwV9BpLtMOogEDGB0LAkSK_bP8_Tji9HKTYohV0/s1600/IMG_0868.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FKnkBEVGkA44KgDtfr2JYWiIrLAlbiBhRGUCARABtT_CLEz-RLdzuvZcV3BxPX-3P1vst4ESB5mV3XeO9S5C_q9ckGCm7JHzbIj7zwV9BpLtMOogEDGB0LAkSK_bP8_Tji9HKTYohV0/s400/IMG_0868.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507738487862140578" /></a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-55392938520508142622010-08-20T22:35:00.000-07:002010-08-20T22:40:10.255-07:00Wedding Photos...Finally!Well it's almost exactly a month late, but I finally got the scanner up and running! Here are a few wedding photos! The first one is not long after we saw each other for the first time on our wedding day, the next photo is of my Dad walking me down the aisle and the last one is Matt and I signing our wedding license. And the first picture is supposed to be tilted, it's not a scanner/operator problem! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissyhKpaFX361ZUumFiwmfOSLTBjKH1qQFOnBBFV2MdjHHeNppcyyfGJLi0dpUyeYbPQbtHoln0WA-B9odBdDBgF_bV7I7FmnybELUA2dQeMddnhF8dVzUzhf6nZO6q5heuvhNfYBdEIs/s1600/wedding.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissyhKpaFX361ZUumFiwmfOSLTBjKH1qQFOnBBFV2MdjHHeNppcyyfGJLi0dpUyeYbPQbtHoln0WA-B9odBdDBgF_bV7I7FmnybELUA2dQeMddnhF8dVzUzhf6nZO6q5heuvhNfYBdEIs/s400/wedding.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507732883502740226" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ghiR8tVf1dgBalFKi4aB933vp2ZIdXKSA7SmtkgujhPlLEbSAGS1FxVUeglbEGB4PttR0mnch164L6APVrV7gcp1hu8u1lWn0DQ2Ct5TeMXLEFFzCS3wvDdWVTINPUCmGHAYurTwOo0/s1600/wedding1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ghiR8tVf1dgBalFKi4aB933vp2ZIdXKSA7SmtkgujhPlLEbSAGS1FxVUeglbEGB4PttR0mnch164L6APVrV7gcp1hu8u1lWn0DQ2Ct5TeMXLEFFzCS3wvDdWVTINPUCmGHAYurTwOo0/s400/wedding1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507732873860599394" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7L9l_hTDZ73k1YvIeMXi0-OZk0vb1o_AWzYEOTMc7tozl9cwvQ-13n7y40Uis2y5uerAqP1TS8R6M2npp9gV7O_koDpiwKKW6Wl5fQoBukZP7iQ7w8lEOgI_1codIMJzLDwdXqF-ZWuI/s1600/wedding2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7L9l_hTDZ73k1YvIeMXi0-OZk0vb1o_AWzYEOTMc7tozl9cwvQ-13n7y40Uis2y5uerAqP1TS8R6M2npp9gV7O_koDpiwKKW6Wl5fQoBukZP7iQ7w8lEOgI_1codIMJzLDwdXqF-ZWuI/s400/wedding2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507732863763322450" /></a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4576810317252444217.post-41346159191873845002010-08-05T13:52:00.000-07:002010-08-05T13:59:00.090-07:00The Story of Tami and the Suicidal Salsa<div>I went to Costco for THIS salsa. I get home, park in the driveway and open up the back. SPLAT. WTF. Salsa, my favorite salsa, on my feet, in my hair, on my shirt, on my legs, on my driveway.. not in my mouth. So I do what any Mom would do, I grab the frisbee out of the back of my car and I start scooping salsa, sticks, rocks and whatever other remnants are on my driveway into my Ultimate Frisbee. Then I have to use the hose to wash myself, my clothes and my driveway clean of salsa. Is this really my life? I use a frisbee to clean salsa off the driveway? Oh yeah, and I ruined my favorite race shirt with splattered salsa. Sad times. I want my six bucks back! </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGnGL08nHTdwepIdvLEn_rurt0Gg73iw1OLFmGRMjJnr6gVKgBJwLRL6L8kxZROP2J_RVvtMm8K0ZAy0M0yASvn0eALRzZ-7omaEruIAO62oP8vKxZrrTuN8QtG6_ERDplNMA3OQKmGSc/s1600/IMG_0831.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGnGL08nHTdwepIdvLEn_rurt0Gg73iw1OLFmGRMjJnr6gVKgBJwLRL6L8kxZROP2J_RVvtMm8K0ZAy0M0yASvn0eALRzZ-7omaEruIAO62oP8vKxZrrTuN8QtG6_ERDplNMA3OQKmGSc/s400/IMG_0831.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502032784365029842" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16iSRA5cPbkiHqTowRtoERjRcin_-ZoWeg_wTDaCNb_jA8lM_8XR0cUjrsxu1zHZH8gprruqVUiQzgyMrkbS2GVW7TYrJiP-fkjLCNGkIxijYl-18aoRzzTjyaiZ_0PsltYuItBavtds/s1600/IMG_0832.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16iSRA5cPbkiHqTowRtoERjRcin_-ZoWeg_wTDaCNb_jA8lM_8XR0cUjrsxu1zHZH8gprruqVUiQzgyMrkbS2GVW7TYrJiP-fkjLCNGkIxijYl-18aoRzzTjyaiZ_0PsltYuItBavtds/s400/IMG_0832.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502032781013845330" /></a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04627431766235019828noreply@blogger.com2