tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62159964450479274902024-03-13T03:25:04.557-07:00Queen to My 3 BoysQueen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.comBlogger286125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-8962777052300985402015-01-22T19:48:00.000-08:002015-01-22T19:50:31.370-08:00ATTENTION CANADIAN ONLINE SHOPPERS:It's like GOLD to a Canadian shopper! Have you ever heard about <a href="http://www.ebates.ca/referrer?referrerid=24UM5mLBG3I%3D">Ebates</a>? When I first heard about it I thought it was too good to be true. Do they really give you cash back on purchases? Is it a scam? Surely there's a catch…but no. No catch. I have received cheques from <a href="http://www.ebates.ca/referrer?referrerid=24UM5mLBG3I%3D">Ebates</a> and they are real.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: none;" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-75288097721752670352011-02-14T06:48:00.000-08:002011-02-14T06:58:03.814-08:00In The Trenches?Today is Kobe's birthday party. Five years old! This is the life. Somedays feel long, they feel like I argue, prod, clean up, fix, get frustrated...all day long. It feels like I'm in the trenches. And then I stop and think. I think of these four little boys who need me and who love me and who are not 'getting in the way' of what I need to get done. They ARE what I need to get done. Even as I am going through this time period, I know, I just know that I will look back someday and long for these days. I will long for the days of my boys being litte, being boisterous, of crying for a kiss on their owie, of hearing the words 'Mom, _____ just hit me!' I KNOW I will miss this. So why do I complain about it? Why do I feel like some days will never end? Why do I get so frustrated? Why can't I just relax and ENJOY it?<br /><br />Lord, please help me to live life now. Please help me to be content and to be thankful in every circumstance. Not a guilty I-need-to-be-thankful thankful, but a truly heartfelt thankful. Lord, please change my heart, please help me parent in view of your eternity. Help me to savour every minute of what you've given me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-RIGHT: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-RIGHT: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-4745924752846140142010-09-08T19:19:00.000-07:002010-10-13T07:45:19.207-07:00My Little Zane is Finally Talking!I had two active, active boys before I had Zane. At least I thought they were active. Now I realize the word 'active' is a relative term.<br /><br />Zane entered our world like a tornado.<br /><br /><br />My pregnancy with Zane was placenta previa. That means that the doctors needed to take him early by c-section. It was a difficult delivery. Zane was wedged sideways and they had a hard time getting him out. I vomited throughout the entire procedure and I lost a third of my blood. Zane came out not breathing. When they tried to start his breathing, they were too aggressive and collapsed a lung. I saw him as they whisked him past my face - between heaves - and then didn't see him again for about 5 hours. For the next couple of days, he was in ICU and I wasn't able to hold him because any handling made him cry and slowed the healing of his lung.<br /><br />The whole situation was horrible. I was used to long labours and deliveries and then holding and nursing my babies right away. This time, I still felt like I was pregnant after I had him. I didn't have any attachment as I was looking at this baby that could have been anybody's.<br /><br />I didn't feel the attachment until one night I went into his private ICU room, held him to my naked chest, pulled a blanket over us and fell asleep...for hours. All of a sudden, it all felt right. He was mine.<br /><br /><br />As a young baby, he wasn't exactly fussy, he just wasn't very happy either. This continued into his toddler years. Never completely happy. Around the time I expected him to start talking, he was just cooing. As he was getting older, he would hum everything. Same tone, same inflections that we used, but no words.<br /><br /><br />A speech therapist (Zoe) starting coming to our home about once a month and an infant development specialist (Lotte) came once a week. It was clear that Zane understood absolutely everything and was very bright, but still no words. Zoe was increasingly thinking that Zane was struggling with the fine motor skills in his mouth area and just couldn't seem to get that area to work the way he wanted it to. When he would try to copy things that I was saying, his face and mouth would look awkward. Some words seemed to come from his nose, rather than his mouth. We played games like blowing bubbles and sticking his tongue out to lick something from my finger to sharpen his fine motor skills.<br /><br />During this time, Zane was developing some amazing skills in expression. His face can tell a story. His eyes and face seem to light up when he's on a roll. His eyebrows do great things. He will look at you out of the corner of his eye in a way that makes you just wanna grab him, squeeze him and cuddle him for all his cuteness.<br /><br />But, the older Zane was getting, the more frustrated he was and the more behaviour issues he had. Imagine - having things to say, things to ask for and not being able to get people to understand. I'd be melting down, too!<br /><br />Seemingly overnight, things began to change. Within a month's time, Zane went from saying a handful of words to speaking full sentences. Full, complete sentences. Truly.<br /><br />It has been a privilege to see Zane blossom during this time. He is expressive. He is talkative. He is happier. He is fun. He's also an almost 3-year-old who knows exactly what he wants - or doesn't want - and now has the vocal skills to let you know. Ha!<br /><br />During his frustrating time of no speech, I kept saying, "Zane...when you learn to talk, we are going to have a PARTY! I will be so excited for you! Things will be so much easier for you."<br /><br />So............we had a party. Complete with carrot cake and cream cheese icing, a present and a family game of limbo. He was the star of the party! He ate up all that attention and went to bed beaming. When you ask him why we had a party, his eyes get big, his face lights up and he says, "Cuz I'm talkin'!"<br /><br />Thank you, Lord, for Zane and for the blessings he brings to our family. You sure knew what you were doing when you gave him to us. I am forever thankful!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></p>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-7713085136660472382010-06-24T22:05:00.001-07:002010-06-24T22:37:03.021-07:00I have been thinking about my grandparents. I have all of my grandparents and was able to know 3 of my great-grandmas, as well.<br /><br /><br /><br />You know, when I was a child, I loved spending time with my grandparents. I feel like we nearly grew up at Grandpa Norman's and Grandma Lee's house. We were there all the time and I feel like some of my most treasured memories were there.<br /><br /><br /><br />I remember going straight to the cupboard where Grandpa kept my scribbler. I would bring it to him and he would write out math problems for me - I know...nerdy! I would disappear up to the landing of the stairs, finish the problems as fast as I could and bring them back to him for marking. He would write out another set and off I'd disappear again.<br /><br /><br /><br />I remember Grandpa's favourite chair. It was an armchair and everybody knew that it was Grandpa's spot. He would sit in it and smoke his pipe while visiting with my parents. I remember us children teasing him by running to that chair, laughing and giggling and holding on tightly with both hands on the armrests. He would pretend that he was going to sit on us or pry us off and we just giggled away.<br /><br /><br /><br />I also remember Grandpa's spot at the dining room table. He always had the chair on the end with the armrests. Grandma always sat on his left and the grandchildren always fought over who got to sit on his right. Grandma would put plastic <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">place mats</span> at each spot and she always had a smaller plate than everyone else.<br /><br /><br /><br />I remember Grandma used to sit on the couch - it was brown - on the left-hand side. She would have her ashtray on the table beside her and on the edge of her ashtray she always had a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Beachnut</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">cough drop</span> balancing. You know, the ones that come in the green package. That is where she would visit and crotchet while talking. In my mind's eye, I can see her sitting there under that big long mirror.<br /><br /><br /><br />(That is the very living room where Dwayne and I shared our first kiss.)<br /><br /><br /><br />I have fond memories of Grandpa Mick's house too. For many years, I would spend part of the summer out on his and Uncle Don's ranch. We would start our morning with a coffee - yes, even as a child! Grandpa liked his coffee with cream and sugar...enough sugar to nearly make a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">syrup</span>. ::gag::<br /><br /><br /><br />Some part of every day would be spent on "Buddy" the horse. He was grey and had to be nearly beaten to get to move anywhere. Grandpa cut me a switch and told me to give him a little flick with it if he wouldn't move. I'm not sure children should be given switches. I'm surprised that poor horse never threw me off!<br /><br /><br /><br />I remember one cattle drive that I was all excited to partake in. We all started out with our horses, leading those cattle along the road. I fought with Buddy and I never did figure out where they all took the cattle to. I was still within sight of the house when they were coming home a couple of hours later. As soon as I turned that horse around, he jumped into gear and we made it home in no time. Stubborn <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ol</span>' mule!<br /><br /><br /><br />As far back as I can remember, Grandpa was always ready to pull <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">somebody's</span> leg. Every Christmas, he would phone and tell of how he'd sicked the dog on Santa and his reindeer. Every Easter, he would say the same for the Easter Bunny. And I distinctly remember an old baseball cap that he had that said 'Having sex after 60 is like trying to play pool with a rope.' I remember just how funny he thought that had was. ::roll eyes & grin::<br /><br /><br /><br />Grandpa has always been feisty and has had awesome reflexes. Even now, at almost 80, he is the only Grandpa I know that goes to the bar, stays out later than my friends and I, and gets in a bar brawl every now and then.<br /><br /><br /><br />With all these treasured memories floating around in my mind, I have been curious about all of them when they were little, while they were growing up, how they fell in love and all those things that a child is too self-centred to think to ask. I have phoned all of my grandparents and have asked them to either write or record 'their story'. I am thankful to have the opportunity to ask them for this while they are still with us because some of my friends can only wish that they still had that chance. It is my hope that they do give me their stories and that my children, my grandchildren and myself will have a treasure to cherish forever.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></p>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-74922485376821197032010-05-21T07:48:00.000-07:002015-01-12T08:49:11.219-08:00It's Friday! This week has been a whirlwind.<br />
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Esther left on Tuesday night. She spent the night at Amanda's and then the two of them drove. Her flight was to leave at 7am yesterday. She took too long getting ready in the morning and missed her flight. It cost her 50 bucks and 3 hours to get a new one. What a nut!<br />
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Tuesday is our busiest days of the week right now. Kobe and I go to a Ready, Set, Learn program at the elementary school. It is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pre</span>-literacy program and I enjoy the one-on-one time with him. After lunch, Barb has a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">childrens</span>' crafts program at O 'n E. What a great program! They do many different crafts and artsy things. It is well organized and absolutely free. Barb is one of the most community-minded and generous people I know. This week, they were sewing buttons, sketching with chalk, and making a swirly ribbon thing to use in the Fall Fair parade. Soccer started this Tuesday, right after crafts. The children had a great time last year, so I thought we'd give it a go again. Kobe especially likes it and is very <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">coordinated</span>. He was showing me how he could use his foot to make the ball 'jump' when he kicked it.<br />
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Wednesday brought our first 'scrub baseball' day. This winter Dylan asked me if I would organize a baseball time for children. I thought about helping with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">childrens</span>' ball league, but things seem to be so political and nit-picky. In talking to other parents, I found that they were feeling the same way. There are also children who didn't start in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">childrens</span>' ball league when they were little, so felt as if they don't know how to play well enough to start now. They didn't want to feel stupid or be made fun of. The solution? I started a 'scrub' day where children (of all ages) and their parents can play together. We are casual enough to not be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">competitive</span>, but serious enough to learn some baseball rules. We pull out the T for the smallest children and there are no strikeouts for anybody. This children had a blast on Wednesday and one little girl said, "I really like this. It's better than the league because it feels like a family thing." Amen.<br />
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Yesterday was soccer again.<br />
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During this whole week, we did a small amount of school in the morning - usually Bible - and some playtime/outside time together. When Zane went for his nap in the afternoon, we finished off school and got ready for our outings. I still have a scheduling struggle, but that is for writing about on another day.<br />
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Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-40785255238149504852010-05-21T07:34:00.000-07:002012-10-17T08:12:42.567-07:00Yesterday was Dylan's first day working with horses at Tom's house. He has talked about horses here and there and gets excited about the colts - who doesn't think they're too sweet? - when we drive by. We were at Bud and Irene's the other day and Irene mentioned that maybe Dylan would like to work with horses with her. It planted a seed in my mind. <br />
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As I was pondering, I thought...Tom. Of course! In the past, I have been careful about my children's exposure to Tom. Mostly it's the bad language and the drinking that I haven't liked. This is no secret to Tom and he has often <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">offered</span> to take Dylan for short periods, only to receive a flat-out 'No way!' from me.<br />
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Something about him and the horses clicked in my mind, though. Dylan is growing into this superb little boy. He knows right from wrong. He knows how I feel about Tom. He is wise beyond his years. Tom knows how I feel, as well, and because of that, I expect that this time with Dylan will be cherished and respected. They both keep telling me how excited they are.<br />
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Dylan started at 7:30 am yesterday. They work for about an hour and a half. He's back there today - right now, in fact. He will mostly go Monday, Wednesday and Friday. When Dylan came back from there yesterday, he was pumped! He worked with Blue and did some leading with a halter. He told me excitedly that he left slack in the rope and Blue still just did whatever he wanted. He rode Blue and Tom had him not hold on and close his eyes. This is going to be a real growing experience for Dylan.<br />
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I have thought about pursuing guitar or piano lessons or, or, or. Nothing really seemed to fit. I'm glad that Irene planted the seed. The lessons that Dylan will learn with Tom will be top-notch, are usually incredibly expensive and quite hard to come by. I'm thankful to have such a great opportunity and an uncle that is most excited about it too!<br />
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Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-9498824621172830542010-04-18T23:04:00.000-07:002010-04-18T23:13:13.704-07:00More Than NecessaryWe had some friends over for lunch today. One of our guests was 'Pizza Bob'. Bob is openly thankful to the Lord for whatever is coming across his mind at any particular moment. <br /><br />While we were eating lunch, Bob mentioned how thankful he is that God gave food <em>taste</em>. He could have made food simply for nutrition, but He didn't. He put extra effort into making food <em>enjoyable</em> for us.<br /><br />That comment kept coming back to me throughout the remainder of the day. It made me think of the times that I get lazy and only do what is absolutely necessary. Imagine how different the world would be if we were to follow the Lord's example and put in the extra effort - not to simply settle for the bare minimum.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-41040649053934097922010-03-06T22:08:00.000-08:002010-03-06T22:14:29.945-08:00Phone Innocence"Boston Pizza..." <br /><br />::Click.::<br /><br />Dylan (7): "Mom, I think I called the wrong number!"<br /><br />Me: "Honey, you can't just hang up. If you have the wrong number, you just say, 'I'm sorry, I have the wrong number.'"<br /><br />::Dial again::<br /><br />"Burger King..."<br /><br />Dylan (7): "Excuse me, I don't know if there is something wrong with my phone, but I'm trying to call my Granny..."<br /><br />Here's my take on things - I have a sweet, polite son and a pain in the neck brother.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-73278457102623154002010-02-23T21:13:00.001-08:002010-02-23T21:14:32.820-08:00Our Rich Heritage<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/S4S1kp1PS_I/AAAAAAAAB2w/VtvGN2Ukm1Y/s1600-h/Sent+To+Grandpa2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441673891079474162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/S4S1kp1PS_I/AAAAAAAAB2w/VtvGN2Ukm1Y/s400/Sent+To+Grandpa2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-9128163445251002892009-12-06T21:24:00.000-08:002009-12-07T06:49:57.853-08:00Thankful For Mom & Dad?Life has been busy.<br /><br />I've posted very little since Chance was born.<br /><br />I used to post first thing in the morning, before the chaos started. Now, I sleep every moment I can squeeze in. These middle-of-the-night-feedings will kick a mama's butt!<br /><br />So, until I find great wads of spare time - we know that won't be happening - I'll keep posting just a tidbit here and there.<br /><br />Today's tidbit is about Kobe's Sunday School lesson:<br /><br />Kobe came home from Sunday School with a sheet of paper that said...<br /><br />"I am thankful for my mom because...she makes baby brothers and lets me play Mario.<br /><br />I am thankful for my dad because...he works real hard and takes care of me and gives me cake."<br /><br />Now we know what's important to a three-year-old!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-36479930023888262412009-11-26T21:35:00.000-08:002009-11-26T21:51:39.812-08:00Not Chopped Liver, Totally Steak & LobsterI need to address an anonymous comment left on my <a href="http://queentomy3boys.blogspot.com/2009/11/pinch-me-cause-i-must-be-dreaming.html">last post</a>. <br /><br />I was excited about Esther being here. I was relieved to have some long-term help. What I forgot to mention was that my sweet Mom took two weeks off work to help me when I got home with the baby.<br /><br />When I blog, I leave out a great deal of important things that go on in my life. Mostly, it's because we have a busy, exciting life and I don't have all day to sit at the computer and chat about it. I pick snippets here and there. When I look back at my old posts, often I see huge gaps missing and I hope that when I read this when I'm old and grey, I don't think this was<em> it</em>.<br /><br />Mom came to the rescue when I was recovering from a <a href="http://queentomy3boys.blogspot.com/2007/11/zane-braden-is-here.html">complicated c-section</a> with Zane. She stayed with me for <em>four whole weeks</em> - helping with the children, doing laundry, cooking, scrubbing, you name it! This time - a much less complicated recovery - she stayed with me for two weeks. Both times were a large sacrifice to her...time off work and time away from Dad. But she's a trooper and we loved having her.<br /><br />The reason I blogged about Esther and not her is because I didn't get that panicky feeling this time when Mom's departure was looming - I had a long-term helper coming. Also, with paid help, there is no guilt with asking for toilets to be scrubbed or making special requests. When someone is helping because they love you, you take what they're willing to give. when you're paying...well, it's just different.<br /><br />So, I'm sorry to sound ungrateful. (Some people's children!) I'm totally not.<br /><br />But...for the record, I've asked Mom to quit her job and be full-time Granny. She hasn't taken the bait quite yet. I guess we have to wait a little longer for steak & lobster!<br /><br />I love you, Mom!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-48049890475669119312009-11-23T15:29:00.000-08:002009-11-23T15:44:49.639-08:00Pinch Me, 'Cause I MUST Be DreamingDwayne has been trying to get me to find somebody to help me with my home and with the children. <br /><br />For months.<br /><br />Pride - I can do it myself, darn it - and finances have stopped me.<br /><br />At the end of our first day home with all the children, Dwayne said it again. "I know you can do it yourself, but why? I want to come home to a relaxed wife, children that have had one-on-one time with their mom and a clean house that you haven't had to stress over."<br /><br />I caved.<br /><br />I made a call to Esther, an 18-year-old from Ontario that I had met last year. Would she be remotely interested?<br /><br />Less than 2 weeks later, we picked her up at the airport.<br /><br />Esther is just what I needed. She helps with my home and and helps with the children. She is chipper and cheerful. She fits right in with our family.<br /><br />On Thursday, I went to a funeral and took the baby. I came home to happy children, three clean bathrooms and a delicious supper. Somebody pinch me...<br /><br /><em>And thank you, Dwayne, for being the most understanding and gracious husband <strong>ever</strong>.</em><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-24793797054143292082009-11-18T21:34:00.000-08:002009-11-18T21:43:29.172-08:00Have You Been Pooped On or Puked On Lately?We went to the city yesterday. Among our stops was an appointment with our accountant. <br /><br />Yes, I know, I'm an accountant too. Sometimes, though, with the layerings of companies and tax-planning strategies for the next year, you've gotta pull out the big guns that specialize in the corporate stuff. Our 'big gun' - Ron - is a partner at a great accounting firm.<br /><br />On the way there, Chance managed to poop and puke on me. For some reason, Dwayne found this hilarious. <br /><br />"What're you laughing at?" I ask.<br /><br />"I was just thinking of the days when you wanted to chase your career and now you're in the backseat of the truck, nursing a baby, getting pooped on and puked on."<br /><br />"If you keep laughing, I'm going to ask Ron for a job and chase my career again!"<br /><br />During our appointment with Ron, I brought this up.<br /><br />His response? "Just stay where you are and keep doing what you're doing. We all get 'pooped on' and 'puked on' in our jobs - just in different ways."<br /><br />I'll have to keep this in mind on those days when the grass is looking a little greener on the other side...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-31198040565460583272009-11-03T21:07:00.000-08:002009-11-03T21:18:34.672-08:00Our Baby Chance<div align="center">He finally came...</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center">Chance Jaxon</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center">8lbs 4oz</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center">20 1/2" long</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center">1 1/2 hour delivery - start to finish</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center">He didn't even wait for Daddy to get to the hospital!</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400112726404262482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SvEN6eRkalI/AAAAAAAAB2g/E9cP8oR663I/s400/Nov+3-09+090.jpg" border="0" /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SvEN62PhhDI/AAAAAAAAB2o/WdMvnwFFRh4/s1600-h/Nov+3-09+111.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400112732838134834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SvEN62PhhDI/AAAAAAAAB2o/WdMvnwFFRh4/s400/Nov+3-09+111.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></div></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-44987360960869035432009-10-19T19:47:00.000-07:002009-10-19T19:49:27.331-07:00The Waiting GameI'm still alive, honest. I am in the 'city', playing the waiting game until this little baby boy decides to make an appearance. I have very limited internet and can not figure out how to post on my new BlackBerry...stupid technology!<br /><br />I can receive your comments, but can't post. I wanted to at least let everyone know I'm still kickin'...and so is the baby!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-RIGHT: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-RIGHT: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-83376569924753393652009-10-09T07:15:00.000-07:002009-10-09T07:56:21.652-07:00No Snow, Not Yet!I woke up yesterday to the children dancing around and singing something about it snowing. Indeed it was.<br /><br />They were so excited!<br /><br />I was not!<br /><br />I always say that I wasn't meant to be born in this country. I tolerate the winters to 'get to the good stuff'.<br /><br />Thankfully, the snow didn't last long enough to get to the ground. It's not here to stay yet, but here are some pictures of this summer to look back at wistfully while winter looms...<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390604301445052450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9GDTBTOCI/AAAAAAAAB1Q/2Aeq7_565PY/s400/Sept+2009+074.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">That's me driving - all big & pregnant.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390604311080441218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9GD26jlYI/AAAAAAAAB1Y/HUehboRxUlE/s400/Sept+2009+082.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">Isn't this the way all children travel?</div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9Hca2lmGI/AAAAAAAAB2I/DnxAAaw1_Xg/s1600-h/Sept+2009+190.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390605832555960418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9Hca2lmGI/AAAAAAAAB2I/DnxAAaw1_Xg/s400/Sept+2009+190.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390604290521026818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9GCqUz0QI/AAAAAAAAB1I/F4gCTVm6OrU/s400/Sept+2009+059.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>My dad, my brother and Dwayne are throwing rocks across the river. I tried and tried to get them in sync, but when the competetive testosterone is flowing, it's hard to get any cooperation...</div><div><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div></div><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9GefF3paI/AAAAAAAAB1w/NPLqrf8t2SI/s1600-h/Sept+2009+112.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390604768541910434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9GefF3paI/AAAAAAAAB1w/NPLqrf8t2SI/s400/Sept+2009+112.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Kobe rode with my Dad all day - you just couldn't tear him away.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9Gd6C0LAI/AAAAAAAAB1o/tO-3jjKO5Gc/s1600-h/Sept+2009+095.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390604758596987906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9Gd6C0LAI/AAAAAAAAB1o/tO-3jjKO5Gc/s400/Sept+2009+095.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>This guy still makes my heart leap...</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9GdVkIC-I/AAAAAAAAB1g/7YcjcyN4a8k/s1600-h/Sept+2009+091.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390604748804590562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9GdVkIC-I/AAAAAAAAB1g/7YcjcyN4a8k/s400/Sept+2009+091.jpg" border="0" /></a> Aiy, aiy, aiy - I have a love-hate relationship with pregnancy pictures. I want to have them so I can remember, but it is <em>painful</em> looking at all that largeness!</div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390605808449860898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9HbBDPtSI/AAAAAAAAB14/5we90Bwy0VE/s400/Sept+2009+128.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390605823465199714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ss9Hb4_LmGI/AAAAAAAAB2A/qkGermgA-sU/s400/Sept+2009+186.jpg" border="0" /><br />I'm going to pretend I didn't hear Kobe say, "Let's go snowmobiling!" yesterday and enjoy the rest of Autumn before the white stuff comes to stay.<br /><div><div><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></div></div></div></div></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-42658653019679015082009-10-07T08:32:00.001-07:002009-10-07T08:43:55.017-07:00Little Forest Elves<div align="center">Our forests have always looked so <em>enchanted</em> to me. </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center">When the children started running around on the soft, mossy forsest floor, I couldn't help but think <em>Little Forest Elves!</div></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1kSdpx3I/AAAAAAAAB04/aw0iSwWC0VE/s1600-h/Sept+2009+130.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389882489091770226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1kSdpx3I/AAAAAAAAB04/aw0iSwWC0VE/s400/Sept+2009+130.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1j1ovCUI/AAAAAAAAB0w/eKld00OJIK0/s1600-h/Sept+2009+132.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389882481353623874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1j1ovCUI/AAAAAAAAB0w/eKld00OJIK0/s400/Sept+2009+132.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1jUTFUbI/AAAAAAAAB0o/-pCOBXDw-rQ/s1600-h/Sept+2009+134.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389882472404439474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1jUTFUbI/AAAAAAAAB0o/-pCOBXDw-rQ/s400/Sept+2009+134.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389883315184217298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy2UX5cLNI/AAAAAAAAB1A/JnLbt8P_7UQ/s400/Sept+2009+135.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1IStHvII/AAAAAAAAB0Y/jwZGMHJXEC0/s1600-h/Sept+2009+137.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389882008120310914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1IStHvII/AAAAAAAAB0Y/jwZGMHJXEC0/s400/Sept+2009+137.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1H-0-DNI/AAAAAAAAB0Q/kKjcgWTbNpQ/s1600-h/Sept+2009+192.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389882002784521426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/Ssy1H-0-DNI/AAAAAAAAB0Q/kKjcgWTbNpQ/s400/Sept+2009+192.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-44838465036558317132009-10-05T08:09:00.000-07:002009-10-05T08:22:32.751-07:00Fire Prevention WeekThis week is <a href="http://www.fiprecan.ca/">Fire Prevention Week</a> in Canada. We will be spending time learning about fire prevention in our home, including making and practicing a family escape plan.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389133780604890418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsoMnuADLTI/AAAAAAAAB0A/aEfRsx7oMe8/s400/Sept+2009+022blog.jpg" border="0" /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsoMo6FQeTI/AAAAAAAAB0I/i1RNDNDltbs/s1600-h/Sept+2009+027blog.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389133801027828018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsoMo6FQeTI/AAAAAAAAB0I/i1RNDNDltbs/s400/Sept+2009+027blog.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsoMmaY5hmI/AAAAAAAABzw/ufBuGpfb924/s1600-h/Sept+2009+015blog.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389133758160537186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsoMmaY5hmI/AAAAAAAABzw/ufBuGpfb924/s400/Sept+2009+015blog.jpg" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389133770754606914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsoMnJTjx0I/AAAAAAAABz4/laFgs7D-DsE/s400/Sept+2009+019blog.jpg" border="0" /><br />I encourage your family to learn/review fire safety tips this week. I also encourage you do develop/practice a family escape plan. You just never know when you'll need it...<br /><br /><div><div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></div></div></div></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-60092533300883482232009-10-05T07:55:00.000-07:002009-10-05T08:09:03.111-07:00Our Fall FairOur fall fair was late this year - although not as late as I'm posting about it. Don'tcha just hate it when life gets in the way of blogging?!<br /><br />Dylan participated for the first time. He mostly entered homeschool projects that he'd done throughout the year. His Lego display, though, was made specially for this occasion.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389130269626952354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsoJbWlraqI/AAAAAAAABzg/yJ_7gAw5sFw/s400/Sept+2009+007blog.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />Winning so many ribbons caused much excitement around our home. He wore the medallion that he received for many days and pinned all his ribbons up on display. Since then, I have heard this statement more than once: "Oh, this is a good one. I'm going to enter it in the Fall Fair next year."<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsoJb-6aZRI/AAAAAAAABzo/zJDp05kZSuc/s1600-h/Sept+2009+197blog.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389130280451335442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsoJb-6aZRI/AAAAAAAABzo/zJDp05kZSuc/s400/Sept+2009+197blog.jpg" border="0" /></a>Kobe entered a scarecrow and a collage that he'd done. He received a 'first' ribbon for each of them, but didn't care much.<br /><br />I entered my scrapbook and a photobook I did up and had printed by Blurb. It's fun to show the community what happens in this lil' home of ours.<br /><br /><div><div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></div></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-83896467669728121382009-10-01T08:49:00.000-07:002009-10-05T08:08:50.779-07:00They Saved The Very Last Canadian Flag!Our homeschool group had a Welcome Back To School event. It was hosted by the great adventurers, Mr & Mrs G.<br /><br /><div align="center">The children started with some ice-breaker games.</div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTSKp-VxhI/AAAAAAAABzU/Ufn9uwUhCVw/s1600-h/IMG_6721.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387662134749808146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTSKp-VxhI/AAAAAAAABzU/Ufn9uwUhCVw/s400/IMG_6721.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">And then went straight to the mission: </div><br /><div align="center">Someone had taken the very last Canadian flag on earth. Our group was hired to locate it and safely bring it back.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTSKIWOYYI/AAAAAAAABzM/PvysrZ1CWHA/s1600-h/IMG_6724.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387662125723181442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTSKIWOYYI/AAAAAAAABzM/PvysrZ1CWHA/s400/IMG_6724.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The camera-mom got distracted by a climbing cutie (oops).</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTSJviExgI/AAAAAAAABzE/cD7-0EeZmrc/s1600-h/IMG_6728.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387662119061997058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTSJviExgI/AAAAAAAABzE/cD7-0EeZmrc/s400/IMG_6728.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />First the children had to cross a canyon - with human-eating fish below raring to attack...<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTRuH3WrnI/AAAAAAAABy8/P5oDO2SoHkU/s1600-h/IMG_6733.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387661644557364850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTRuH3WrnI/AAAAAAAABy8/P5oDO2SoHkU/s400/IMG_6733.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Whew! Everyone crossed with no casualties. Now to army-crawl across the field. Someone needs to teach these guys about the army-crawl...<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTRtgLSrzI/AAAAAAAABy0/jtvPypVYkxg/s1600-h/IMG_6738.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387661633903570738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTRtgLSrzI/AAAAAAAABy0/jtvPypVYkxg/s400/IMG_6738.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Okay, guys, listen up. Zane'll show you!<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTRtFsmF4I/AAAAAAAABys/IyBiBfRSlfI/s1600-h/IMG_6740.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387661626795497346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTRtFsmF4I/AAAAAAAABys/IyBiBfRSlfI/s400/IMG_6740.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTROhYIB-I/AAAAAAAAByk/1WqVI4saHmY/s1600-h/IMG_6746.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387661101649889250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTROhYIB-I/AAAAAAAAByk/1WqVI4saHmY/s400/IMG_6746.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Next was crossing over the lava river...<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTROD_ls4I/AAAAAAAAByc/7xf_e69jMz4/s1600-h/IMG_6752.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387661093762347906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTROD_ls4I/AAAAAAAAByc/7xf_e69jMz4/s400/IMG_6752.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The helpers seemed to be invinsible. I didn't find any lava burns on Dylan later.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTRNqLNL7I/AAAAAAAAByU/Fe4z81GJOZU/s1600-h/IMG_6756.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387661086831751090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTRNqLNL7I/AAAAAAAAByU/Fe4z81GJOZU/s400/IMG_6756.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">Now to dig where they think the flag may be hidden...<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTQFRIPhYI/AAAAAAAAByM/2nTNc6Z-4nE/s1600-h/IMG_6774.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387659843157853570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTQFRIPhYI/AAAAAAAAByM/2nTNc6Z-4nE/s400/IMG_6774.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Eureka!<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTQE0B1MiI/AAAAAAAAByE/nR3-uxTDLrM/s1600-h/IMG_6775.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387659835346334242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTQE0B1MiI/AAAAAAAAByE/nR3-uxTDLrM/s400/IMG_6775.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Mission accomplished!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTQEdrHX1I/AAAAAAAABx8/m2EU_kDi_fc/s1600-h/IMG_6781.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387659829345476434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsTQEdrHX1I/AAAAAAAABx8/m2EU_kDi_fc/s400/IMG_6781.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="left"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-52222645543020465672009-09-29T08:25:00.000-07:002009-10-05T08:08:30.664-07:00...And I Wore White Shoes!<div align="center">Dwayne said he wanted to take the Ranger out and have a little fun.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center">I should have known what 'fun' meant when I saw him carry his rubber boots to the truck...</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386911272715962290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsInQu7IR7I/AAAAAAAABxU/VvUQBoPllzM/s400/IMG_6694.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386911278517580258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsInREiV8eI/AAAAAAAABxc/isMe-bLxqLQ/s400/IMG_6695.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsIn1nGaleI/AAAAAAAABxs/K0j_mT-Kqro/s1600-h/IMG_6704.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386911906270975458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsIn1nGaleI/AAAAAAAABxs/K0j_mT-Kqro/s400/IMG_6704.jpg" border="0" /></a> The <em>pink</em> blanket had meant to be for warmth. It ended up being a 'splatter guard' for the baby.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsInRo4OI8I/AAAAAAAABxk/Q4uyek-B0vc/s1600-h/IMG_6699.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386911288273019842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsInRo4OI8I/AAAAAAAABxk/Q4uyek-B0vc/s400/IMG_6699.jpg" border="0" /></a>How <strike>calm </strike>dull would my life be with all girls?!? </div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386911915493084946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SsIn2JdIzxI/AAAAAAAABx0/t8ovb2yCLGY/s400/IMG_6717.jpg" border="0" />The winch worked hard today!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></div></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-38282347695118578022009-09-23T15:34:00.000-07:002009-10-05T08:08:08.138-07:00Pregnancy UpdateI went to see the obstetrician.<br /><br />Because of where we live and the complications I've had with my reproductive system and previous deliveries, the obstetrician thinks that I should live in the city (2 hours away) for the last two weeks before my due date.<br /><br />This is a big deal.<br /><br />I have three active boys, a husband that works here in town and a million things to do before the baby comes. Also, Kobe was 12 days overdue. If this one is that overdue, that means I'll be there for about a month!<br /><br />Dwayne asked me how I felt about it and I was trying hard to hold back tears.<br /><br />I am large, tired and can't physically manage the children on my own for that long. The older two are fine...potty-trained, <strike>not too many </strike>no temper tantrums, sleep well.<br /><br />Zane is another story. He is so busy. Really busy. Does not sit still EVER busy.<br /><br />Dwayne took one look at me and said, "I think I should keep Zane in town. He can go to Mrs. Z's when I'm at work and he and I will hang out after work."<br /><br />My gut reaction was "NO!" I don't want to be away from him. I love him and want him right there with me. But after thinking it through, I think it's best. The two of them will have some great bonding time and the older children and I will get to enjoy some last-minute-before-baby-comes bonding too.<br /><br />We will enjoy trips to the library, swimming lessons and some quiet time to prepare for babe.<br /><br />And, who knows, maybe baby will be a little early.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-14434330395038966532009-09-17T21:03:00.000-07:002009-09-17T21:30:20.777-07:00Siblings Fight...It's Common But UnacceptableMy boys are great friends...mostly.<br /><br />There are those times of constant bickering, teasing, taunting that makes me sad (and angry).<br /><br />Today was different. Today Dylan was mean. He said mean things to Kobe and Kobe ended up saying similarly mean things back in retaliation.<br /><br />We were in the truck when it happened. I talked to the boys about how that might feel, but Dylan was flippant about it. When we got home, I sent Kobe to his room to think and Dylan to Zane's room - it's been cleared of all toys and 'stuff' because of Zane <a href="http://queentomy3boys.blogspot.com/2009/08/whos-responsibility-for-this-one.html">can't be trusted to stay out of trouble</a> - to think.<br /><br />Dylan's assignment while in there was to think of something he could do that was honouring to Kobe and would make Kobe feel loved.<br /><br />While thinking, Dylan decided to make Kobe a book to teach him his letters. I liked the idea of a book, but told him he could do a book on how to treat people and a few nice things about Kobe. He wasn't allowed to play until the book was finished.<br /><br />Here's what he came up with <em>completely on his own</em>...<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SrMHDEwjvbI/AAAAAAAABxM/0VgKcztQjkI/s1600-h/Sept+2009+198.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382653729036287410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SrMHDEwjvbI/AAAAAAAABxM/0VgKcztQjkI/s400/Sept+2009+198.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SrMHCVjv9VI/AAAAAAAABxE/cGErh7G5gM4/s1600-h/Sept+2009+199.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382653716366095698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SrMHCVjv9VI/AAAAAAAABxE/cGErh7G5gM4/s400/Sept+2009+199.JPG" border="0" /></a> Translation: <em>Crossed out 'I'll break that' and wrote 'We should not break.'</em><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SrMHB8O8mQI/AAAAAAAABw8/KTo9yjqokas/s1600-h/Sept+2009+200.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382653709567957250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SrMHB8O8mQI/AAAAAAAABw8/KTo9yjqokas/s400/Sept+2009+200.JPG" border="0" /></a>Translation: <em>'Kobe, you're a nice brother.'<br /></em><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SrMHBWLOSQI/AAAAAAAABw0/AC6iefmhFtU/s1600-h/Sept+2009+201.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382653699351791874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SrMHBWLOSQI/AAAAAAAABw0/AC6iefmhFtU/s400/Sept+2009+201.JPG" border="0" /></a>Translation: <em>'Kobe, I like how you play cars.' </em></div><div><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></em></div><div><em></em></div><div><em></em></div><div align="left">I was most impressed with what he came up with, especially when he did it all by himself.</div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">When Dylan presented the book to Kobe, Kobe just beamed. He said thank you to Dylan and then Dylan said thank you to Kobe for listening while he read the book to him. (All unprompted.)</div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I told the boys that my heart felt better about the whole situation.</div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">What was Dylan's response?</div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">"My heart feels better about it, too, Mom. Something strange is going on. When I do something nice for Kobe it makes me want to do more nice things for him."</div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><em>Wow! Small victories feel so very precious!</em><br /><br /><br /></div><p align="left"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a></p><p align="left"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></p><br /></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-35228535428924262912009-09-11T07:13:00.001-07:002009-09-11T07:13:32.673-07:00Sometimes You Just Need A HeroHe came home from work for a couple of minutes - just long enough to pick something up.<br /><br />When he entered the house, he saw her crying on the couch.<br /><br />He went over, gave her a hug and asked what was wrong.<br /><br />She didn't answer, just cried harder.<br /><br />He could hear his youngest crying from upstairs and asked where the children were.<br /><br />Between sobs, she said, "In their rooms. In timeout."He asked what was wrong.Her response? "I'm just so tired. They won't listen. They have too much energy. I can't keep up. And *sob, sniff* the last one's not even here yet." And it was only 9:30am.<br /><br />Yep...that's the scene that played out in our home yesterday.<br /><br />It was one of those mornings. You know the ones - where they all seem to get together and plan how to drive Mama crazy. How to make her so very exhausted she can't even think. And they must know that there is a crazy-point that she can't control her pregnancy hormones one second longer and the waterworks will come bursting like a dam.<br /><br />The sobbing/praying fiasco was soon finished. My Superman got all of us back on track and the rest of the day went well. I guess I just needed a time out and a hero.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6215996445047927490.post-77315317535236673852009-09-08T20:29:00.000-07:002009-09-09T15:50:08.903-07:00School's In!Today was our first official day of homeschooling in Grade 2.<br /><br />Did I just say Grade 2? Where does the time go? Yikes!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379304947679011650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8iV3NhgXQM/SqchWWDoo0I/AAAAAAAABwQ/wFuSaNOZ-bM/s320/Dylan+-+Grade+2+001blog.jpg" border="0" /><br />We had a hectic day. Dwayne's grandparents showed up unexpectedly last night. It was our first school day today. Dwayne came home just before lunch and said that he had to go to out of town for business and would be leaving just around supper.<br /><br />All the excitement was a little hard on my new Grade 2er. He wanted to be visiting. And he desperately wanted to go with Dwayne - which he would normally be able to do.<br /><br />But...<br /><br />The mean ol' schoolmarm laid down the law and said, "We're sticking to the plan."<br /><br />So instead of partaking in the excitement, Dylan learned a new <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%201:23&version=NIRV">memory verse</a>, did some copy work, made a <a href="https://www.donnaward.net/shop.php?area=item&sku=9780968678817">map of our town</a>, sang O Canada, read to me, <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Canadian-Boys-Who-Rocked-World/dp/1552857999/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1252467635&sr=8-1">was read to</a>, got his feet wet in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/First-Language-Lessons-Well-Trained-Mind/dp/0971412928/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1252467751&sr=1-1">grammar</a> and learned a little more <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Explode-Code-Book-Five-Nancy/dp/0838814646/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top">phonics</a> than he knew when he woke up this morning.<br /><br />We ended the day with a trip to the newly renovated playground down the street.<br /><br />Tomorrow we'll add <a href="https://apologia.securesites.net/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=1&products_id=4">science</a> and <a href="http://www.singaporemath.com/">math</a> to the schedule.<br /><br />'Night. *yawn*<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/C6A8D07ACB87A8FE813B0818E8B7A6B7.png" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/206/03465DED1B842DF534CBA4C8B32E66EA.png" /></a></div>Queen to my 3 Boyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15835325901326490949noreply@blogger.com3