tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29788038174108966602024-02-18T19:52:45.801-06:00The Miller ExperienceThe unpredictable collection of experiences and stories from the Miller Household...Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.comBlogger278125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-40243040596258559622013-01-04T11:55:00.001-06:002013-01-04T11:55:39.112-06:00Ford Birth Story Part 4**Sorry for the delay in writing & posting Part 4. Life with four children = NO TIME**<br />
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I opened my eyes after I had been "asleep" for what seemed like 20 minutes and at the same time 8 hours. "Was it the same day as when I was in that operating room?" The first thing I remember feeling was very warm and wrapped up in heavy blankets. Quite the stark contrast to having my hospital gown ripped off of me on an icy, metal OR table in a freezing cold operating room. I could see Marty sitting in a chair at the end of my bed and I recognized that I was in the recovery room right outside of where the operating rooms were. (I had been in that recovery room before with a friend.) I said, "Is he ok? Where is he?" He lifted his hand and pointed over toward the left side of my bed and said, "He's right there." And there he was. Lying in the warmer with the glow of the warming lights on him. He was quiet but moving his tiny arms & legs around. There is no way to write a description on how it felt to see him for the first time. Of course, there was always bliss every time I had seen one of my children right after they were born. But this was different. I went into that OR with the full realization that there was a chance my baby would not survive. Or if he did, there may be problems. And seeing him lying there next to me with no wires or tubes, just himself...peaceful, quiet...moving around like a perfect baby boy, was the biggest relief I've ever felt. And those words of description do what I was feeling no justice. Marty asked me if I wanted to hold him and I declined. I felt very groggy and was afraid I was going to drop him. So he brought him over to me and laid him on my chest and held onto him for me. I kissed him and took in that perfect, make you high with love, smell of a fresh newborn baby and thought, "We are ok. We are OK. Thank you God." The nurse came in and suggested I try to nurse him and I agreed. I think Marty, the nurse & Ford were the only ones contributing to that feeding session. I literally just lied there while they maneuvered everything to get Ford nursing. After he was done, my family started to come in to see me (who am I kidding. They were coming in to see Ford, not me.) one by one, and I have very little memory of the conversations we had. I do remember asking my sister how Taste of the Town (a local food showcase where we live where my family's cupcake store had a booth) was and she laughed and said, "You just had surgery and you're asking me how Taste of the Town was!?" My nurse came by later and referred to Ford as my miracle baby. I will never forget that. He was a miracle. The nurses & doctors were all afraid of what they would find when they pulled him out of my belly. A baby that had a Mom who had lost over half the blood in her body. A baby who had been deprived of oxygen because of that blood loss. A baby who had a heart rate so low that they got me from my hospital room to the OR and had him out all in less than 10 minutes. A baby who had all of those things going against him, and yet was completely fine. A miracle. My Mom came into the recovery room and was able to give Ford his very first bath. That has been a tradition for us...she always gave my babies their first bath in the room with us. This time was a little different because the bath area was not where I could see them, but I remember hearing her & the nurse & the water running and thinking, "This is nice. At least there is some tiny bit of normalcy to this delivery." After a while it was time for me to move out of recovery & back to my room. I remember when they wheeled my bed down the hallway and got outside of my room there were so many people standing around waiting for us. And I remember feeling like I wanted to say hi and talk to all of them but I didn't have the energy. I have vague memories of my family hanging out in my room for a short while but I was drifting in & out of sleep. No one stayed long and I didn't really get to bask in that moment and share it with all of them like I had previously with my other babies. I still mourn that loss. It was one of my favorite things about having a baby...the "party" that ensued after the delivery. Lots of people coming & going. Lots of pictures being taken. Lots of hugs & conversations with my family & friends. None of that this time. The only thing I could do was use every bit of my strength & energy to keep my eyes open so I could see what was going on in the room. I know I was up a lot that night feeding Ford, but it felt like I went to sleep for the next 2 days straight. For my last 2 babies my husband had left me to stay the night in the hospital to go stay with our other children at home, but he wasn't going anywhere this time. I could hardly move. The only thing I could offer to care for our newborn was feeding him. That's it. I couldn't rock him, sway him, change his diaper. Nothing. I needed my husband more than I ever have and he was there for me like he's never been. The next day I felt a little more aware but still drifted in & out of sleep all day. I remember answering a text from a sweet friend asking if I was up for visitors and saying, "Yeah! Sure! We'll just be hanging out, so come on by," and then quickly realizing I had no business having visitors. I could not function as a normal person. I asked another friend if she would let everyone know that I wasn't up for visitors after all. I hated to have to do that. And I hated that I wouldn't have my friends come by to see us & meet Ford. But I literally could not move. Could not sit up. Could not hold a conversation. Could not keep my eyes open. It was a very quiet day. We had a few family members come by and of course lots of nurses coming & going. They came in to give me a blood transfusion because I had lost so much blood. I will never look at donating blood the same again. I've never been able to give blood, but I've always wanted to. I will some day. Some stranger made the decision to donate blood. And I now have their blood. It was definitely a strange feeling when they hooked up that bag filled with deep crimson liquid and it began to flow through my IV, into my body. Someone else's blood was going into my body. Weird. And kind of creepy. But I am thankful for it. I had to have it. And thank goodness it was there. I ended up having a second transfusion, because the first one wasn't enough to replenish the supply I had lost. Well, actually even with both transfusions, I was nowhere near where I needed to be in terms of blood supply. But they just wanted to get my body to a place where it could start replenishing the supply for itself. I had no idea just how much that process would affect me & my recovery for the next weeks to come. Marty asked me how I felt about him going home on night number 2 and I asked him to please stay. I didn't think I could do it by myself. I still could barely move and hadn't even been out of bed since I first arrived at the hospital on that Thursday morning. So he slept on that horrible hospital couch/bed thing for yet another night and helped me muddle my way through taking care of our baby. By the next day I was ready to get out of that bed and take a shower. I will never forget putting my feet on the ground for the first time with the help of Marty & my nurse. I felt like I was a baby learning to walk for the first time...like I had forgotten how to move my legs. And I felt like I weighed about 1000 pounds. Slowly but surely I made it to the bathroom and to the shower where I was able to give myself a shower. It was the longest shower of my life. I had to move ever so carefully & slowly and it took forever. But it was a glorious feeling when I got out, to have finally done something "normal" even though I felt very far from normal. The shower helped me perk up a bit and I felt much better that day. We had a few visitors and the kids finally got to come and meet Ford! They were so great with him. They all came strolling through the door in their "Big Sister/Big Brother" shirts, giddy with excitement. They took turns holding & kissing him. At one point I was able to get up & sit in a chair and Reagan took over my spot in the hospital bed, just snuggling with her new baby brother. A surreal & sweet moment. I had all of my FOUR children together in the same room. Welcome to life as a family of SIX. The thought of going home & caring for all of them as I recovered from my traumatic delivery was more than overwhelming. But it had to be done. Thank God for all of my family who stepped in to help me in the next coming weeks. I absolutely could not have done it without them. For the weeks after Ford came home I felt like I loved my life in 2 spots in my house. In my bed & in my comfy white chair. I sat in that chair & fed him and hardly got up, then I retreated to my bed at night and the next morning it started all over. I remember watching my Mom & my sister unloading dishes and putting laundry in the washer and yearning to just be able to do that stuff again...to just be NORMAL again. I actually will never forget the first time I did unload the dishes for the first time after having Ford. It must've been weeks after I had him because I couldn't even bend over & back up for that long afterwards, but it was so freeing. I thought, "YES! I am UNLOADING THE DISHWASHER! Maybe, just maybe I WILL be normal again!"Slowly but surely I made it back to the land of the living & was able to start functioning as a wife & Mom again. Ford's delivery & the recovery from it was one of the hardest things I have ever been through. The feelings I had throughout that time are not soon forgotten. But it makes having him here & healthy that much more precious. His & my life were not guaranteed in those moments, but we pulled through. God must have some pretty big plans for Ford in the future and I can't wait to see what they are.Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-33843900662645286682012-10-02T10:56:00.001-05:002012-10-02T10:56:44.272-05:00Ford Birth Story Part 3Umm....ok. Sooo, I'm very unexpectedly and unpreparedly having a baby tonight, and my doctor won't be here for it. Alrighty. Well, as a mother of 3 kids already, I was pretty used to just rolling with the punches and if you know me, you know I'm a pretty laid back person in general, so I didn't let it rattle my cage. Of course I was bummed that the doctor who had been with me through 9 months of pregnancy was not going to deliver my baby, but I was willing to roll with it and excited that we would actually meet our baby boy within the next 24 hours. My doctor told me she had filled in her colleague on everything that had occurred that day and she would be heading to the hospital right away to meet me and get the induction process going. With the minuscule amount of battery juice my phone had left I called my husband and told him we would not just be staying at the hospital overnight for monitoring...that we were going to be having a baby! He was excited and anxious to get back to the hospital as soon as possible. The nurse came in & wheeled me down the hall to a REAL room...Praise Jesus. I could not wait to get out of that tiny, rock hard triage bed I'd been in for the last 8 hours. My Dad accompanied me to my room & texted Marty the room number he could find us in since my phone had now officially died. I remember my Dad saying something about meeting Ford tonight and I assured him it would be the next morning. After all, I was only 1 cm dilated last time I was checked and it was already almost 7pm. I had a long way to go. Marty showed up a few minutes later with my bag and phone charger and we settled in. We were ready to get "the party" started. We all made calls & texts to let everyone know we were being induced and Baby Ford would probably arrive some time in the early morning. My Mom was on her way and so was my friend Shannon, who would capture everything on film for me...well not EVERYTHING....but most things. They both arrived around the same time and we were ready to have a peaceful evening hanging out in labor and delivery. American Idol was on in the background and I remember thinking, "I wish I could turn it up a little and there wouldn't be so many distractions. I'd like to see what's happening." My doctor's colleague came in to introduce herself & check on me. She was very sweet and had such a nice, kind face. She said they would start pitocin and she would be back to check on me soon. The nurse came in with the pitocin and hooked it up to my IV. Here we go. No turning back now. I was already contracting pretty regularly, so getting that little bit of Pitocin was just enough to really kick start my labor. I remember my nurse saying, "Wow. You're on the lowest level of Pitocin and contracting very well. I'm not sure we'll even need to bump you up much." At this point was when I was thinking, "Alrighty...where's that anesthesiologist? Let's get my order in. <i>And while we're ordering...can I get a burger and some tater tots up in here!? I haven't eaten ALL DAY</i>." I had an extremely long and painful wait for my epidural with Ty and I didn't want that to happen again. The doctor came in to check me and see how all my contractions had been progressing things. The words, "Still a 1." came out of her mouth and I was not a happy camper. As she finished her exam, all of a sudden I felt a warm gush of fluid. I thought my water broke. Nope. Blood. More blood. And lots of it. She didn't seem panicked and so no one else did either. She remained calm. But as I could feel the liquid keep coming & coming, I started to get worried. Surely this is too much blood for me to be losing. This can't be ok. But still she remained calm. She told me she was going to break my water and make sure the fluid looked clear and that the blood wasn't coming from there. Clear amniotic fluid. Ok. Good sign. Then she said she was going to put a heart rate monitor on the baby's head so we could keep a very close eye on his heart rate. We had been having trouble with the one on my belly because he kept moving away from it, so I figured that was why we would use the better one. As soon as that monitor went on his head everything changed. It went from a somewhat calm <i>with just a little bit of worry</i> situation to complete chaos & panic. I could hear it. The sound of his heart...barely beating....hardly there....so slow. I will never ever forget that sound. Within a few seconds of hearing that sound, the doctor looked at me and said, "Lindsay, we're going to have a c-section. Right. Now." As cliche as it sounds, at this point is when I really had an out of body experience. It was as if I was watching myself and my family in a movie. In an instant, my room became loud and crowded and chaotic. I'm not even sure how many people came rushing into my room when the doctor called for the so-and-so code, but it seemed like 37. And to contribute even more to the feeling of this just being an experience I was watching and not actually going through, everyone around was talking about me like I wasn't in the room. "Unhook her from that!" "Move her over here!" I remember looking over at my poor husband and just seeing him breaking. I can't imagine what that felt like for him. To see all these people manhandling his wife, screaming & running around and he had zero control over what was happening. I think it was easier to be in my shoes at that point. As they wheeled me out of the room I looked up at him and said, "It's going to be ok. We're gonna be fine." We began our marathon run down the halls of the hospital and all of a sudden there was a man running next to my bed asking me all kinds of questions. Had I ever had a reaction to anesthesia....Was I allergic to anything? I was able to answer all of his questions but the only thing I could think of was my husband. Where was he? I asked the man, "Is my husband coming? Is he going to be in the room??" He answered that they were going to be putting me to sleep and he would not be allowed to come in. Ugh. That was one the lowest moments for me. Knowing that neither of us would really be there to witness our last baby being born. That was almost enough to get waterworks going for me. But I held it together. I just thought, "I can't lose it now. I've gotta stay calm." They got me into the very bright, freezing cold operating room and literally thrust me onto the operating table. For 6 months after I had Ford I had soreness in my lower back, like a bruised feeling, and I swear it was because of that transfer. They ripped my gown off of me and began to drape my belly with lots of heavy blue sheets. I remember the door opening & closing a bunch with people running in and out and once when it opened I caught a glimpse of my husband sitting in a chair in the hallway. All alone. Again, almost enough to make me lose it, but again I held it together. "This is no time to be a sissy Lindsay!" One of my most vivid memories of lying in that OR for the few seconds I was in there and awake was the clanging of metal tools...lots of them. And the counting. They were counting the tools, "One! Two! Three! Four!....," loudly and quickly. I remember thinking, "Lord please let them knock me out soon. I am ABOUT to lose it and I cannot lose it. I do not want to hear one more thing going on in this room. No more counting. No more yelling. No more watching people run around like their lives depended upon it. Knock me out!!" The anesthesiologist settled in by my head and the doctor got into her position by my side. I could still see everything going on. You know that blue sheet they put up to block the patient's view of the surgery? Well, they didn't put one of those up for me since I was about to be knocked out. I could see my belly protruding through the hole in the blue sheets and all stained orange from the betadine. The doctor had her hands up ready for gloves and she looked at the anesthesiologist and yelled, "I'm not scrubbing! Let's go!" Then everything went black.Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-63233243334463396072012-09-10T14:15:00.004-05:002012-09-10T14:15:48.677-05:00Ford Birth Story Part 2As soon as she stuck the monitor on my belly we could hear that all familiar sound of a horse running rapidly down a track. Ok. Deep breath. His heartbeat is there and sounds good. My doctor's face completely changed. A sense of relief washed over her. She told us to get comfortable because she was going to want me to stay for a few hours to monitor his heart rate and just make sure everything was ok. So now that our second son seemed to be doing well, the focus was on figuring out what to do with our first who was not going to last in a tiny observation room in the hospital for a couple of hours. Marty stepped out and made some phone calls and got family to get on their way to pick him up. In the mean time my boys were hungry for lunch, so they went down to the cafeteria to eat something while I just relaxed in the super plush, comfy bed I was in (yeah right!). I watched a little TV, played on my phone and gave the news that I was in the hospital "for observation" to a few friends & family. One of my good friends was in Colorado and I had specific instructions to keep this baby in, until she arrived home. She texted and asked how my doctor's appointment had gone that morning and I had to break the news that I was in the hospital. However I assured her, I was NOT in labor and they were just watching me for precautionary reasons. I was sure I'd be headed home in the next few hours. Another friend who was going to be photographing the birth for me was wondering if she needed to gather her equipment & head to the hospital and I, again, assured her there was no need for that. I'd be leaving in a few hours to go home. I was not in labor, so there would be no reason for me to stay at the hospital. Marty came back a little while later without Ty, and we just sat in the tiny closet of a room talking and looking at our phones. The baby's heart rate continued to look good. As we sat & waited I started having contractions. They weren't extremely painful, just uncomfortable. Lo & behold they started coming on somewhat of a regular basis. They weren't very close together, maybe every 12-15 minutes, nevertheless regular. So we watched my spikes go up on the monitor and, as we did every time I've had a baby, we watched all of the other contraction monitors that were up on my screen and talked about which woman must be getting ready to have her baby and which one was just dramatic and showed up at the hospital when she wasn't really in labor. "Oh look at that girl's contractions. Whew! I hope she has her epidural by now!" and "That girl's contractions aren't even half way up the graph and they're like 25 minutes apart. She's not in labor. Geez...what is she doing here?" My contractions stayed far apart but continued to come pretty regularly. My spikes went almost to the top of the graph every time I had one. The nurse came in at one point and said, "You're having pretty regular, strong contractions. I'm surprised you're not in more pain. Are you feeling those?" Well yes, of course I was feeling them. She asked on the 1-10 scale what my pain level was and I said, "About a 4." I always wondered what the answer to that question actually tells them. I mean, the contraction monitor speaks for itself as far as how strong the contractions are and everyone has a different threshold for pain. So are they really just asking, "How big of a wuss are you?" After I'd been there a little while, my doctor came back in and wanted to check me again. I felt a little excited because I thought maybe since I had been having so many contractions that I might be more dilated and she would say, "Oh! You're in labor...let's get you checked into a room!" Nope. Same number as I'd been for weeks. When she finished her exam, she said, "Well your bleeding has stopped and his heart rate has looked good the whole time you've been here, so I'm thinking you might be good to go home. Disappointment. Of course, the most important thing was that my baby was ok, and he was. But I did have some anticipation that maybe since I was already in the hospital and since I had started contracting some, they would just keep me and we'd get to have a baby! I expressed my concern about having regular contractions to my doctor and she asked if the contractions were picking up in intensity. They weren't. She said since they weren't really increasing in intensity and they weren't productive enough to change my dilation, I wasn't really in true labor. At this point is when I believe God really "stepped in" as the orchestrator of this day. (Of course, he was always the orchestrator, but this is when it became clear to me.) Something in me said, "Don't go home. You shouldn't go home." If you know me at all, I am not a person to question a doctor or their advice. So, when that nagging feeling would not subside, I knew I had to speak up about it. I said, "I really don't feel like I should go home right now. For some reason, I feel like if I leave, I'll be coming right back." So my doctor was kind enough to appease me and she said, "Ok, well why don't we just keep you here for another hour or so and we'll monitor you for that hour and go from there." I agreed that was the best idea. She said she'd be back in an hour. Not 5 minutes after she left the room I had a contraction that had me gripping the side rails of the bed. Well of course, the contractions would pick up and get "real" as soon as she walked out of the room. A few minutes later, a nurse walked in and said, "The baby's heart rate is having decelerations and we're not sending you home tonight. We can't send you home with that going on, and we'll either keep you to go ahead and induce or we'll just keep you overnight for monitoring. I've called your doctor and I'm waiting to hear back from her on what she wants to do." Marty decided he should run home to get my bag. I hadn't packed my bag for the hospital until very recently and I just happened to get all of my toiletries organized in a group on the bathroom counter that morning so if something happened and I wasn't able to grab my own stuff, I could tell Marty to grab the whole group on the counter and I'd have everything I needed. I was glad I did that. My dad had decided to stop by and check on me, so Marty asked if he wouldn't mind staying with me until he got back so I didn't have to be alone. I was so glad to have my Dad there. The reality was starting to set in that we would probably be having a baby very soon and the worry that something might be wrong was unsettling. While Marty was gone, my doctor came back in the room to chat with me about what she wanted to do. She sat down on the stool next to my bed and said, "I have good news & bad news. Which do you want first?" I answered, "Bad news." She said, "I have a plane to catch in an hour. But the good news is that I think we need to just go ahead and have a baby tonight." Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-59976979792692326642012-09-06T10:40:00.001-05:002012-09-06T10:43:59.132-05:00Ford Birth Story Part 1I'm writing this story really for my own benefit, but thought I'd share it with those of you who like these sorts of stories. I fear if I don't write out as much detail as possible from this experience, the memories will start to fade and eventually be gone forever. Unlike all of my other births (which I remember with perfect clarity) the memory of this one is a tad on the fuzzy side, so I want to make sure to document it. It is, in fact, one of the most traumatic experiences I've ever gone through. I will include details of all kinds, like what I was thinking and things I remember hearing & seeing. I don't plan on being super graphic, so no worries in that department. However this is a story about birth, so if you are not into that sort of thing you may want to just go back to browsing Facebook or whatever it is you were doing before you stumbled upon this. If you like birth stories as much as I do, read on. And buckle up.<br />
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It was a Thursday morning. And just like I had spent the last few Thursday mornings, I had my weekly OB check-up. I was 38 weeks. This was to be my last appointment before my scheduled induction exactly one week later. Like always, I had Ty with me (since he didn't go to school on Thursdays and that was my Doctor's OB day) and Marty met me at the office to help me with him during my appointment. We had a very short wait in the waiting room, but enough time for me to update my Facebook status that I was at my last OB appointment and that next week we'd be having a baby.<br />
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The nurse called us back and we did the usual blood pressure, weight check (always super fun), pee in the cup drill. When we got into our room the nurse came in with some paperwork and said, "Ok, I called the hospital this morning and got you first on the list for induction next Thursday." "Sweet," I thought. As any 38 weeks pregnant lady would feel, I was READY. Ready to not be pregnant anymore and ready to meet my baby boy. You see, there wasn't a 100% guarantee that I would be induced in a week...it was only if the hospital had room for me, since I didn't have a medical reason to be induced. So the fact that she got me first on the list was great news. I remember her telling me she had never had a patient first on the list and not get in for induction. Even better news. Ty was born at 39 weeks and weighed in at a hefty 8 lbs, 11 oz. so I really didn't want to go past 39 weeks if I didn't have to. And my doctor was totally on board with the plan, so we were all good to go. My doctor came in and asked how everything was going, and I had my typical response of, "Good. Fine. Nothing New." with a smile. I lied back and she put the doppler on my basketball of a belly and we all listened. My favorite part of those appointments. Heart rate was somewhere in the 130's like usual. Perfect. Then it was time for the ever so lovely dilation check. As much as that's not the most pleasant experience, it did always come with a certain sense of excitement. "Maybe, just maybe there would be big change from last week!" When she told me "my number" I felt a little disappointed. It hadn't changed from last week. It was the same it had been even the week before. Bummer. But the feeling of disappointment didn't take over, because I did have my light at the end of the tunnel after all. One. More. Week. I could do this for one more week. As my doctor finished the exam, I started bleeding. A lot. I couldn't really see what was happening because I had a sheet blocking my view, but I could tell from her reaction, she was a little alarmed. Alarmed. Yes. But just a little. No need to panic. She said, "Oh...you're bleeding." She called the nurse back in the room and then she ran out to grab some towels and came running back in. I just sort of stared ahead and watched everyone around go into motion. Marty was getting Ty out of the way. My doctor was calling down the hallway for a wheelchair. She told me she was going to take me over to the hospital (it's right next door) and just check some things out. I remember saying, "Do I HAVE to go in a wheel chair? Can't I just walk??" I didn't want to create a scene leaving her office being wheeled out! She looked at me like I had lost my mind and said, "Get in the wheelchair." As I got up from the exam table, I then realized why there was a bit of panic going on. My feet and the bottom half of the table were covered in red. Hmm. Alrighty....guess I'm getting in this wheelchair. After I stood up my doctor asked if I wanted to just go like I was or put my pants back on. "Hmm...let's see...be wheeled out into the waiting room, down the hall, down the elevator, outside, down a corridor and into the hospital with nothing but a thin white sheet covering me.......or......have pants on?? Umm...I think I'll take the pants please. Thanks." I wiggled myself back into my jeans that I wore almost EVERY day of the last weeks of my pregnancy and remember worrying that I would get blood on them and THEN what would I do!? She started to quickly push me down the hall and outside, down the corridor that led to the hospital. Behind me, Marty carried Ty and I heard him say, "Daddy, why is Mommy in a stroller?" I about died laughing. Then my mind went straight to, "Whew! I bet I am not easy to push in this thing. I am no feather weight at this point." Nevertheless, my doctor pushed on...and increasing in speed almost to a full out run. It started to sink in at that point that she was worried. She needed me at the hospital, in an exam room as soon as she could get me there. Once in the hospital, we went straight to one of their OB triage rooms where they can monitor the baby and contractions. She barged in one of the exam rooms like she was in charge! I remember thinking, "Woah...can we just go in there without even seeing a nurse or an admissions person or anyone??" Seemingly in fast forward motion, she had me get on the exam table, grabbed the monitor for baby's heart rate and the bottle of sticky gel, squirted a big glob of cold gel on my belly and stuck the monitor on.<br />
<br />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-75149567845337286912012-08-24T13:01:00.000-05:002012-08-24T13:01:33.378-05:00I didn't die...but I almost did.Hellooooo Blog World! So, as my title suggests, I didn't die. I'm certain some of you (if there is anyone left who even reads this spider-web covered, dusty old blog of mine) thought I did. I can't even wrap my brain around the fact that I haven't written here in over half a year. I really have missed it. There is absolutely no possibility of me doing a re-cap post that catches everyone up on all of The Miller Experience happenings. Sorry Charlies. But hopefully I can do a little here & there of the most important things. I just wanted to pop in quickly & say Hi and I've missed you, so no big stories here today. However, I plan on catching you all up on the biggest reason I abandoned you....the birth of our 4th child. To say I have had my hands full, or that this has been the longest, hardest summer of my life, or that having our 4th has completely changed everything I thought I knew about parenting (and childbirth for that matter) is an understatement. So, stay tuned and I'm going to fill you in on how I came the closest to death I've ever been and how Mr. Ford Thomas made his very "grand" entrance into this world.<br />
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Talk soon!Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-51542272231179503232012-01-22T09:23:00.003-06:002012-01-22T09:39:01.929-06:00Baby Prep Mode & Facebook Takes Over<div style="text-align: left;">So, I'm sure some of you (if there are any of you actually left reading) are wondering where I've been. I have to admit, Facebook has taken over a little bit with my sharing of The Miller Experience. It's just easier to post a quick pic or write a little something to share. But then I realize I have readers here who are not on Facebook or are not my "friends" and those people are not seeing what we are up to. So I thought I'd do a little update for you. We are in full Baby Prep Mode around these parts: teeny, tiny baby clothes washing; cleaning out closets & making room for baby things to come out of the attic; signing all consent forms at the hospital and making sure we're registered & ready to go there; talking a lot about Baby Ford to Ty so we can get him as prepared as possible; stocking up on diapers & wipes; thinking about what's going to go in the hospital bag and making lists of things we need to get done before his arrival. We had one last ultrasound on Thursday to get an estimate on Baby Boy's weight and see if he's in position, ready for his eviction. He's measuring a little on the small side (say what!?) so we'd like for him to stay put for at least another 2 weeks. Then, if he cooperates with our plan, he will be served his eviction papers around the 7th of February. For once, I'm hoping he doesn't decide to break his lease early & come on his own. (There will be a hefty fine for that!) I like the idea of having all my ducks in a row (quite literally) and having everyone taken care of for the day we know he will be evicted. Only time will tell if Mr. Ford is going to go along with our little scheme. So until then, here is the latest "pic of him" from last week. See you all soon....as a mother to FOUR children....scary.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3DZSzXNzdot6nJYHqvyYfZ6gPs5A-4EnUrKUKyG7OqXCCiW94ivB_lj1SROB53NXMiWjjUI9CTZt-_xWNH94HWqY9lMHr0P6BGWsZcYzGWS0-QyDRJio45E1sxTxmk4q_OhcREFo8Ho/s320/36+wks.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700480986888697890" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-25181046665348552412011-12-29T10:53:00.003-06:002011-12-29T10:58:17.309-06:00Fiesta Baby!<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwfrMYgDSVM3Iv-A52_tMl96Lpw051_qRbk2JzLYNZyWzPgHUwiRl-qczYoyVj9L4dnE37c6fBvw2MkBl36ag' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-44915495281036257992011-11-17T16:30:00.001-06:002011-11-17T16:37:21.909-06:00The Name Game<div style="text-align: left;">Oh, baby names...how I loathe thee. I don't like looking through all of those books. I despise how the enormous weight of giving another human being THEIR NAME, the one they will have for the REST OF THEIR LIFE, presses down on my shoulders. I don't appreciate how everyone has a story about someone they knew with this name or that and how that absolutely should never be the name we choose for our child. Blah Blah Blah. Names. Ugh! For all 3 of our previous children I have felt very strongly that I absolutely could not pick a name for a human being I had never laid eyes on. For that reason, we have never named our babies before they were born. We always waited until the last minute in the hospital when the "birth certificate Lady" was knocking down our door saying, "We really need to get this filled out & taken care of" to finally choose THE NAME. Each time we went into the hospital with a list of names we thought we would choose from. And each time we decided none of the names on our list actually fit. So we pulled some random something out of the air that seemed to fit just right, and we went with it. I remember the weight of the pen as I was filling out the oh so official birth certificate form and thinking, "I'm not sure I can do this!" So, with this pregnancy, we of course, have started our list. The list that always consists of names we like but will not choose. I stored it on my iphone so I could reference it often and add/delete names conveniently. But a series of events has changed our course. And changed it drastically. A few weeks ago I heard a name. It was a name I never hear and it instantly struck a chord. It was as if I immediately knew, when I heard it, this would be our son's name. I sort of kept it quiet & mulled it over for a little while, not even telling my husband. And the more I thought about it, the more I knew this was his name. There were so many things I just really liked about it and the style of it seemed to fit in perfectly with all of our names, like the very last piece of a puzzle you're finishing. So I talked it over with Marty and after making me sweat for days, not knowing what he really thought about it, he finally admitted he liked it and said, "Let's do it." So, folks, this is monumental. For the first time ever, we have chosen a name for our baby BEFORE he is born. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">without </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">further </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">ado....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ty would like to announce his baby brother's name....</div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwnlzsu66yL_JIqHWcqlq3Q0W1ifDeyWda62e8uagtGkrmo4kcR9LSxe3IeoUeTUU3V07qi5komLzx54HRH-Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>...and just in case you can't understand </div><div><br /></div><div>exactly what he is saying, </div><div><br /></div><div>here it is...officially:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHCLvhkdlhyphenhyphenlVYAX2dvRXQj1x4ERAfMvyppJfa386AarzCOZnnpcLEjWCZD77bU64jo0iJpRH0IaKPVm8IIzGML4eHPhSrar5z5DlEAdm-V_YvNckl86zmQsVoCG81JacM5qUT7SzHu8g/s320/ford.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676094033662988674" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-24353125394106982432011-11-07T07:41:00.002-06:002011-11-07T07:43:04.035-06:00Thankful...I've been doing 30 Days of Thanksgiving on Facebook where each morning for 30 days in November, I post something I'm thankful for. Today I thought I'd change it up a bit by sending my Facebook friends here to read a short post about being thankful. I once saw a quote that said,<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"> "If you woke up tomorrow with only the things you thanked God for today, what would you have?"</span></blockquote> Wow. Sobering. That quote certainly made me take a look at what I was thanking God for throughout my days. To be honest, it also overwhelmed me. I started thinking of everything I would want to wake up to the next morning and how I would need to thank God for ALL of those things and how could I possibly even fit everything in?? But that's not really what it's about. God knows our hearts and He knows I am thankful for everything He has given me. That also doesn't mean I don't need to be constantly thanking Him. And the thing is, I've realized, even in the midst of not so ideal situations there is ALWAYS something to be thankful for. So in light of that, I give you these things I AM thankful for:<div><br /></div><div><ul><li>I am thankful for dirty diapers & temper tantrums because that means I have been blessed with a healthy toddler. </li></ul><ul><li>I am thankful for slammed doors & rolled eyes because that means I get to be the mother to 2 expressive girls.</li></ul><ul><li>I am thankful for back aches, swollen feet & weight gain because that means I get to "assist" God in creating another miracle to join our family. </li></ul><ul><li>I am thankful for not-so-fun evenings at our dinner table with children who "don't WAAAANNNA eat" the food I've prepared because that means we have food on our table.</li></ul><ul><li>I am thankful for the inconvenience of having a huge roach crawling across our floor because that means we have a home & walls to protect us from most of those nasty things.</li></ul><ul><li>I am thankful for car troubles because that means our family is blessed with not one, but two vehicles to drive.</li></ul><ul><li>I am thankful for late evenings doing dinner, bath & bed with the kids alone because that means my husband has a job.</li></ul><ul><li>I am thankful for the piles & piles of laundry we have constantly building up in our house because that means we have more than enough clothes. </li></ul></div><div><br /></div><div>Don't misunderstand me. I do not always have a thankful attitude for these things. I am working on remembering that the small inconveniences I have on a regular basis all stem from other things that I have been GIVEN. And <blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;">"to whom much is given, much is expected." {Luke 12:48} </span></blockquote>So I am trying to keep that in mind during this Season of Thanksgiving.</div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-65553591570803532862011-11-01T10:15:00.005-05:002011-11-01T10:28:05.253-05:00I Heart Halloween - 2011<div>I heart Halloween. Like I really, really heart it. At the very last minute yesterday I decided to have some finger foods for the kids to enjoy before heading out to trick-or-treat. And because of my slight obsession with the whimsy of Halloween & also a teensy bit of insanity I suffer from, I could not just make any old snacks. They needed to be "appropriate" for the occasion. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Mouths Full of Teeth" & "Bandaids"</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6GG22sqCn0v2E8hHJEpfLWS7vxq54pTtY0eNdmP2Ljxv4GCl3443TAdZpmFMrOy3PM4I50fn5ddkdQjh0lbPH-GADZxaKWQEIR7wPXSoR3XsVLfEF7V-E5euZwwumWJtKjPKdCvVPYc/s1600/photo_1-4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6GG22sqCn0v2E8hHJEpfLWS7vxq54pTtY0eNdmP2Ljxv4GCl3443TAdZpmFMrOy3PM4I50fn5ddkdQjh0lbPH-GADZxaKWQEIR7wPXSoR3XsVLfEF7V-E5euZwwumWJtKjPKdCvVPYc/s400/photo_1-4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670047308931663826" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">"Q-Tips with Wax"</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrpdUkQHAEw2EAUhZbCucgxxMB26OaqeL5yB4q_JpCsKLQQVF-8fPmIKPlMAvY0STKEggDpS4TuF9IWyL7qfjsqk10zCt-LChTkWuKtaS5oqqqL2ZY3b76T2cGmOZkorhcIv-RG68peM/s1600/photo_1-5.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrpdUkQHAEw2EAUhZbCucgxxMB26OaqeL5yB4q_JpCsKLQQVF-8fPmIKPlMAvY0STKEggDpS4TuF9IWyL7qfjsqk10zCt-LChTkWuKtaS5oqqqL2ZY3b76T2cGmOZkorhcIv-RG68peM/s400/photo_1-5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670047301888198338" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">"Mummies"</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrW0rRvwaMPNjWJqEoY9et71MM-4-JbvGmCNE7905mm7baNjxZdeMjFytBquk5DSQLLL-9Ejm_w7d-7lYR2qef73TNzNrwB5EMjVuSX_JOlEafut8LMuvDxZhifPieBZ-Fwtu1fkkcZY8/s1600/photo_2-4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrW0rRvwaMPNjWJqEoY9et71MM-4-JbvGmCNE7905mm7baNjxZdeMjFytBquk5DSQLLL-9Ejm_w7d-7lYR2qef73TNzNrwB5EMjVuSX_JOlEafut8LMuvDxZhifPieBZ-Fwtu1fkkcZY8/s400/photo_2-4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670047289389702706" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">"Veggie Skeleton"</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEEcWZtU4-HR6N1Hvt3SHwQKzHsWeD49DAgT7KKitECcPCE5x_MkFJNPzWM4TCvvEnzF8usJ2kWsuOpTROqq7wMsZgs7DejPqRqXetox3fUGiLOGCvbjYFIXw9F-QVisiwRahwTRP4Iw/s1600/photo_2-5.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEEcWZtU4-HR6N1Hvt3SHwQKzHsWeD49DAgT7KKitECcPCE5x_MkFJNPzWM4TCvvEnzF8usJ2kWsuOpTROqq7wMsZgs7DejPqRqXetox3fUGiLOGCvbjYFIXw9F-QVisiwRahwTRP4Iw/s400/photo_2-5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670047289291177314" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">"Sick Pumpkin"</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUYCN_WGwyiT4yXzeqyrms3U-NRNlsKHMWGHGJSkxr6BlEcFRB6XsxfrU2E6gzhmkfv2lSU0F3_L5uq3aldmup8vf-5CrdhAkiIcFIci7D2vKQwRqryqxZqzr6o9RQXwZbDwbSbOi4sdU/s1600/photo_3-4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUYCN_WGwyiT4yXzeqyrms3U-NRNlsKHMWGHGJSkxr6BlEcFRB6XsxfrU2E6gzhmkfv2lSU0F3_L5uq3aldmup8vf-5CrdhAkiIcFIci7D2vKQwRqryqxZqzr6o9RQXwZbDwbSbOi4sdU/s400/photo_3-4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670047283214125618" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After our snacks we headed out to take a few pictures.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNLBTbh5_bBpHhpF0q7JOFu1p5B12BBIM4tL5V3RIfgisXzUO-z6KrX0E-6Ubr-S6ebZuvi6STWkecptfOueTIaQSUPSe8evts9SG5msgcTq5p6nluSaCeoNunx6kgorFM8cwSM9r1o6E/s1600/IMG_6766.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgNLBTbh5_bBpHhpF0q7JOFu1p5B12BBIM4tL5V3RIfgisXzUO-z6KrX0E-6Ubr-S6ebZuvi6STWkecptfOueTIaQSUPSe8evts9SG5msgcTq5p6nluSaCeoNunx6kgorFM8cwSM9r1o6E/s400/IMG_6766.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670047026955205026" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc5OR1FgmmU94i2t80k6xvOeAggI9xSh0u1VnAFXsQn-vUXtEkjw6LvjnKH1ieJ3m7Kk64jVTN3aX3of_m_EqgQHm33fLowsS81s7cI9xtjJsZwHcTY10CgOSkpgGdE8F6kGjYDmtUW5w/s1600/IMG_6768.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhc5OR1FgmmU94i2t80k6xvOeAggI9xSh0u1VnAFXsQn-vUXtEkjw6LvjnKH1ieJ3m7Kk64jVTN3aX3of_m_EqgQHm33fLowsS81s7cI9xtjJsZwHcTY10CgOSkpgGdE8F6kGjYDmtUW5w/s400/IMG_6768.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670047020713067570" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg28YhbRIWcdS3KWm4lYm2rcMlLYzvbzU5jaKlnUX0bcPHziBJaKjaq2gxtEb-fe6DvXBo4B573DulA1h2C1D08AvLZ3pLPfpOYyI5CDsOC1FNNooUNDCuwI6GrH36eQmqSCucAi-8sv4w/s1600/IMG_6771.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg28YhbRIWcdS3KWm4lYm2rcMlLYzvbzU5jaKlnUX0bcPHziBJaKjaq2gxtEb-fe6DvXBo4B573DulA1h2C1D08AvLZ3pLPfpOYyI5CDsOC1FNNooUNDCuwI6GrH36eQmqSCucAi-8sv4w/s400/IMG_6771.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670047000575550018" /></a><br /></div><div>Then it was off to trick-or-treat.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclmKwLCpo91TpRoivh677ABw61rKke5n4QEsZUvLzTlpFVvlPpcqq6xt0yptS-JTwF0dNgF0Q4kPOwFZZuIXxYmLgo2RO_t8Q_Oq6JmVW5JG_jmLxUya8oZG7w5bRwm1AJpHc8MDflms/s1600/IMG_6780.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjclmKwLCpo91TpRoivh677ABw61rKke5n4QEsZUvLzTlpFVvlPpcqq6xt0yptS-JTwF0dNgF0Q4kPOwFZZuIXxYmLgo2RO_t8Q_Oq6JmVW5JG_jmLxUya8oZG7w5bRwm1AJpHc8MDflms/s400/IMG_6780.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670047000051856018" /></a><br /></div><div>My Dad's birthday is Halloween so he spends it doing this every year. He's a trooper!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1n2tgS8mdkv0YV8bOC89pwyAkTDMqGRSyaP9RwJAZemvQeOFFVIqfpZmdcuPv4N4e7v1leW3rUKhFpEEQ69mvZduh6uPRauOxqFOr3Eil5UJeQRSrrDh2nXTKQGWllGOoQMjCCuCVOWg/s1600/IMG_6797.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1n2tgS8mdkv0YV8bOC89pwyAkTDMqGRSyaP9RwJAZemvQeOFFVIqfpZmdcuPv4N4e7v1leW3rUKhFpEEQ69mvZduh6uPRauOxqFOr3Eil5UJeQRSrrDh2nXTKQGWllGOoQMjCCuCVOWg/s400/IMG_6797.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670046994527169410" /></a><br /></div><div>Practicing the art of the trick-or-treat...<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz7Jl1CWGx9_9YPSVEPUOZODw-ecxjP31lQgvsUvXdFeAgjTTSmVwUWj4OordY9ru4PfI0u5d_JPgmNroGadg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And I think he got it...or at least he got that he was supposed to be getting candy. That's all that really matters, right?</div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzTaWfT2xJ-QHIYzIyTyZy6bkH7Yh7Mfi02hJFWkDSD1b_1R5Mtf2bfK_PBsn3rHRVf3DCY-6cFhf2BUyBg4w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-84866121016320448082011-09-27T15:12:00.003-05:002011-09-28T14:00:04.934-05:00It's a...<a href="http://i294.photobucket.com/albums/mm110/Junelindsay/genderrevealboy-2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 420px; height: 1501px;" src="http://i294.photobucket.com/albums/mm110/Junelindsay/genderrevealboy-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-41272216534627589652011-09-20T13:04:00.003-05:002011-09-20T13:30:08.890-05:00Keepin' It Real<div>Tomorrow I'm 19 weeks pregnant. 19 weeks! How is that even possible? I feel like I still have a ways to go, but I am shocked at how fast HALF of this entire pregnancy has gone by. I fear that everything this time around is going to feel like it's moving at mach speed. Since we know (at least in OUR plan) this will be the last bambino for us, it's like I want to hold on to every single moment. And I realize that is going to make everything seem like it's zooming by once the baby is here and having his/her first milestones. So I will try my best to cherish it all, even the sleep-deprived nights and the frustrating "baby won't stop crying and I can't figure out what's wrong" moments. Next week is our "big" 20 week ultrasound. Marty & I had considered, from the beginning of this pregnancy, not finding out the gender. It was a really fun thought....for about 4 months. Now that the time has come and we know that next week we could find out if we're having another son or another daughter, we're pretty much crumbling. Honestly just the thought of having to get out our baby clothes from the attic, washing them, putting them away, setting up a nursery, etc. all AFTER the baby is here and WHILE also taking care of 3 other little ones is enough to put me over the edge with stress. So I think we're going to take a peek and find out what's going on in there so we can plan and I can feel more relaxed about bringing a FOURTH child into our already hectic house. I know all you "Gender Waiters" are going to be disappointed in me. What can I say? I just don't have it in me. Plus I have this irrational fear that I feel so strongly this baby is a girl and if, at the time of delivery, a boy was born I would not know how to handle that. So there you have it. Love it or hate it. We're just "Gender Finder Outers." Let's see...names. We have growing lists of names for both genders, but if you know us and our history, you can bank on the fact that we will name this baby something that is not on "the list." And we definitely won't name the baby until after he/she (totally a she, by the way) is here. What else? Umm, the nausea I had for weeks is now pretty much gone. It rears its ugly head every once in a while, but for the most part it stays away. It's getting harder to pick up Ty and put him in his bed or car seat. The kid weighs over 32 pounds. Pretty soon, he's going to have to start climbing into those things on his own. Luckily he got an early start on practicing his climbing skills, since he has climbed on everything since he could move, so he should be good to go. I've got some really horrible veins on the back of one of my legs and if I'm on my feet a lot they flare up, get really red & start throbbing & burning. Super fun. So babe, if you're reading this and you come home to a not so clean house, dinner's not ready, laundry's not done, your son is running around with poop in his diaper, and I'm lying on the couch with my feet up, it's not in the name of bon-bon eating mmmk?? Here I am at 19 weeks (well technically 1 day shy of, but same thing). I feel like you can already see a difference from the picture of me at 16 weeks. Scary. And since we're "keepin' it real" you like my chaos of a bedroom? Thought you might. </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj_ZdzuVauVWVs7QWu4FKvHsUQL1PUTnlpvUIi0iZteh7puUav_U87rQwYCaxF0nr-AK55QGD6FgVSIJvS2oQXS-Jqsg_XyNhazdftFIem0kCxFx7I0656Weq-2wYjL-95mvFYdEP62kE/s1600/Photo+on+2011-09-20+at+13.03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjj_ZdzuVauVWVs7QWu4FKvHsUQL1PUTnlpvUIi0iZteh7puUav_U87rQwYCaxF0nr-AK55QGD6FgVSIJvS2oQXS-Jqsg_XyNhazdftFIem0kCxFx7I0656Weq-2wYjL-95mvFYdEP62kE/s400/Photo+on+2011-09-20+at+13.03.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654504356530829522" /></a>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-84739887162216578752011-08-31T09:47:00.000-05:002011-08-31T09:48:31.129-05:00Sixteen Weeks<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWikuXZctaNGSttKCtCS1Cgo_NcqfyO1qBWK3m_MMkO9TGW2reNL8XQDMrpr50HNvwDxlRYuck-fGZR666y12d0hPGbrfFTRXn2AlPnuIWngwhGq2teF__UahP37Xh3EEDzoB8ADz3y9A/s1600/Photo+on+2011-08-31+at+09.45.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgWikuXZctaNGSttKCtCS1Cgo_NcqfyO1qBWK3m_MMkO9TGW2reNL8XQDMrpr50HNvwDxlRYuck-fGZR666y12d0hPGbrfFTRXn2AlPnuIWngwhGq2teF__UahP37Xh3EEDzoB8ADz3y9A/s400/Photo+on+2011-08-31+at+09.45.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647032014785326706" /></a>
<br />Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-75885357381453750142011-08-22T09:55:00.002-05:002011-08-22T10:03:12.199-05:00Ty's First Day of Preschool<div>My "baby" boy started preschool this morning! That is why I actually have the time to sit & post on my blog. Normally this time would be filled with diaper changes, car & train playing, wiping sticky hands & a messy mouth, picking up a trail of Cheerios all around the house, and doing the Yo Gabba Gabba dances with my boy. But not today. Today he is in his classroom at his new school and, I have a feeling, loving every minute of it. He loves to be around other kids and really loves learning, so I think he's going to do great in school. Here are a few pictures from this morning.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>Breakfast before the big day. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkws4t9etLi4JdfrHuvudKQridfPG9tOlG0dOcxacjMVjK8UMTLg5Ed-yinmQ4pDKvkMx1vqUBgZh-ZhUHT4YzBNcLh0YRSn6llh9KVjEREBMWSxovnUK1nJh0BdEyq8vviCuNkTSOo0/s1600/IMG_4853.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhHkws4t9etLi4JdfrHuvudKQridfPG9tOlG0dOcxacjMVjK8UMTLg5Ed-yinmQ4pDKvkMx1vqUBgZh-ZhUHT4YzBNcLh0YRSn6llh9KVjEREBMWSxovnUK1nJh0BdEyq8vviCuNkTSOo0/s400/IMG_4853.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643694708131183682" /></a>
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<br /></div><div>All ready to go with my back pack & lunch box!
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH1W51kySCuxxnHbGKp8ekhPGNo06c2c8bUis_jMGWYyyj2B0G1yHsp9EaNF3aVjJCFtZ1TMN6M_RVQvI3lt5Fx3a34bb9UQhPdFVCh970M8zfha2H_7rzkRS9k4GNTuG4PyLGUbP2yz0/s1600/IMG_4858.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjH1W51kySCuxxnHbGKp8ekhPGNo06c2c8bUis_jMGWYyyj2B0G1yHsp9EaNF3aVjJCFtZ1TMN6M_RVQvI3lt5Fx3a34bb9UQhPdFVCh970M8zfha2H_7rzkRS9k4GNTuG4PyLGUbP2yz0/s400/IMG_4858.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643694704216120018" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJklnK9Zgef9C4ojv034qsM3kradNO0OKqKN616vjo6hfQtUJ0A7IQeYHEYkHmSkeOQ_XAs4LqM8NeHyq_5GmWaEGAtExaGtNiWMPwB9RhN3YaMNPLYCXUL7YrnBrqsKiMR68koyJQh8/s1600/IMG_4860.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhhJklnK9Zgef9C4ojv034qsM3kradNO0OKqKN616vjo6hfQtUJ0A7IQeYHEYkHmSkeOQ_XAs4LqM8NeHyq_5GmWaEGAtExaGtNiWMPwB9RhN3YaMNPLYCXUL7YrnBrqsKiMR68koyJQh8/s400/IMG_4860.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643694702189844338" /></a>
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<br /></div><div>This boy literally is always happy. He makes me smile.
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaQ2NUiH58y9oCNqc4Oelju_nqWCJ_aIq23xMZcQYMAyCsjukSwooYSx3SDi4N31hqMuuFrdd_CI6CCUTOsM32_jneuOv-Qt1T55Kl4i-UR5n6GRUjJWibgs6t6NsDnzZl1oeu4mVx_Ns/s1600/IMG_4861.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgaQ2NUiH58y9oCNqc4Oelju_nqWCJ_aIq23xMZcQYMAyCsjukSwooYSx3SDi4N31hqMuuFrdd_CI6CCUTOsM32_jneuOv-Qt1T55Kl4i-UR5n6GRUjJWibgs6t6NsDnzZl1oeu4mVx_Ns/s400/IMG_4861.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643694701518819442" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTufdcZwqBcuBgHtRlZd5AP85Z4-GgFCm0s6jU8FH6ueSZNFNqfeNqxjAUrqW7vWqn1nOAhBnf-s6nW93x1VmZcdWsa8_MF7On37tD0JcuLjUsOmqr_tHFiVvF9J3IhnYbS3VkX9h1K8/s1600/IMG_4864.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTufdcZwqBcuBgHtRlZd5AP85Z4-GgFCm0s6jU8FH6ueSZNFNqfeNqxjAUrqW7vWqn1nOAhBnf-s6nW93x1VmZcdWsa8_MF7On37tD0JcuLjUsOmqr_tHFiVvF9J3IhnYbS3VkX9h1K8/s400/IMG_4864.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643694501161428386" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg76TqN9iPtXmsFFrG2Y-w0IHZz6XUrzV-Ef-8kY5PXppTMPwo4eDj2vlt0ieq08HUfpxZa-pkZRyU3kJ_Z2G0tehSTCJ7FI2TK-nJ5VGdw7m6pp0NiYAGW-zEqMwiKrE9nDdgB0aLTA3I/s1600/IMG_4865.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg76TqN9iPtXmsFFrG2Y-w0IHZz6XUrzV-Ef-8kY5PXppTMPwo4eDj2vlt0ieq08HUfpxZa-pkZRyU3kJ_Z2G0tehSTCJ7FI2TK-nJ5VGdw7m6pp0NiYAGW-zEqMwiKrE9nDdgB0aLTA3I/s400/IMG_4865.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643694498535648738" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZG21KEEL1-CJCCUGKE8UjmpnfO_-uSHvPw1FFLLLD0d5kfCe9JCCA2aP7JR-mHnj6tsBknsaTBCY0Jx-qf_XhxSR3k8Sn5gNgULYt5e0tdQNm5gI_m359xOg_1kxoJTZ0j7hiW-10OmU/s1600/IMG_4869.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgZG21KEEL1-CJCCUGKE8UjmpnfO_-uSHvPw1FFLLLD0d5kfCe9JCCA2aP7JR-mHnj6tsBknsaTBCY0Jx-qf_XhxSR3k8Sn5gNgULYt5e0tdQNm5gI_m359xOg_1kxoJTZ0j7hiW-10OmU/s400/IMG_4869.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643694492679522194" /></a>
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<br /></div><div>"Look at this Mom!"
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzbs9krZ6tw3JZ4yzKwVpHvAbMwJtPYCjVk0CqIqzx45P4p7jenIn-K5w3M385KhxLIh8GstjuhCB9Omi-UjLH4dgLzqGeFbQ7aqkFcnEgtYXym5plElGNKLvljVRIdkgJyLrYrKJNuU/s1600/IMG_4871.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEigzbs9krZ6tw3JZ4yzKwVpHvAbMwJtPYCjVk0CqIqzx45P4p7jenIn-K5w3M385KhxLIh8GstjuhCB9Omi-UjLH4dgLzqGeFbQ7aqkFcnEgtYXym5plElGNKLvljVRIdkgJyLrYrKJNuU/s400/IMG_4871.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643694488182291522" /></a>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div><div>Joining right in for the prayer before class starts.
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWPF3r8Qr9GfLmXy4KN3toVgUAq031ychWYbFq5MSHzwNKsXUyT_mi2Kf3Iuj8piuSy-o20f1ScPlgL8lEK4WHeq8xpJY8sBBS7HkxfCkgGZ3zpnc8TybYV9rU82QNXaugQ5apaf-WHYw/s1600/IMG_4872.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEiWPF3r8Qr9GfLmXy4KN3toVgUAq031ychWYbFq5MSHzwNKsXUyT_mi2Kf3Iuj8piuSy-o20f1ScPlgL8lEK4WHeq8xpJY8sBBS7HkxfCkgGZ3zpnc8TybYV9rU82QNXaugQ5apaf-WHYw/s400/IMG_4872.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643694483778555042" /></a>
<br /></div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-47076361898388644972011-08-08T16:51:00.003-05:002011-08-08T17:13:38.223-05:00The Neglect of The BlogWow, so this poor blog of mine has gone so neglected the last few weeks. We have had quite a bit going on since I last checked in. Truth be told, the chore of going back to try and update everything that has been happening with cute pictures and all became so daunting as more time went by that I have just avoided it altogether. So, in an effort to break the silence here and maybe salvage what readers I have left, I am going to attempt an update. I will probably forget to include some things and there's no way it will all be in order of occurrence. Also, I'm not going to include pictures. How you like them apples!? Just can't do it. Not now at least. I may come back and show pictures of our different adventures at some point to add some visual interest to this here blog, but for now, if I'm going to update, this is the only way I'm going to be able to do it. <b>Don't stop reading. There are many interesting things I have to tell you. And I promise to start using pictures again if you just stick with me. </b>Since I have no pictures and I don't have a particular order I'm going to follow, let's go with bullet points. Here we go!<div>
<br /></div><div><ul><li>Ty turned 2 on June 23rd. So far 2 has treated us kindly. He has the occasional tantrum and 2-year-old moment, but for the most part he really is such a happy, flexible, funny little boy. We had a very small gathering for him on his birthday that was in the theme of All Things That Go. The boy loves him some cars, trucks, trains, planes, etc. I will definitely have to come back and share some photos from his celebration.</li><li>Reagan turned 6 on July 18<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span>. Instead of a party for her, we went to Florida. We tagged along on a part of my sister's vacation with her family and we had a great time. The beach was gorgeous and the kids loved, loved it. We had a mini party the night of her birthday. We made her favorite food: STEAK. The girl is a straight up carnivore. We had presents & cake and then went to a go-cart track with all kinds of games & rides. </li><li><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">MacKenzie</span> made the decision to be baptized! She started asking us questions about it a few months ago, so we have been talking about it with her. She said, "I want to do it!" And she was so excited to share it with her friends & family. It was a great morning watching my girl make such an awesome decision and then sharing fun time with family & friends over a delicious brunch at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Dosey</span> Doe. <i>Woodlands Peeps, have you been there for breakfast?? If not, I suggest you run. Great atmosphere. Great food.</i></li><li>I had a birthday and turned 31, but who really cares about that?</li><li>Last but certainly not least on our list of most important occurrences over the past few weeks: We are expecting baby number 4! Yes, we may have certainly lost our minds. No, this was not necessarily a "planned" thing. Yes, we are excited and a little bit freaked about the idea of having 4 children. No, I have not been feeling well AT ALL the past 2 months or so. Yes, I am starting to get SOME relief, so hoping the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">yuckiness</span> might be coming to an end. </li></ul><div>So, that about wraps up our little update. Like I said, some major things going on. All very blog worthy. It's just that sitting upright in a chair in front of a computer screen when you feel like your head might explode or your stomach might just jump out of your throat is not the most pleasant of things. So, that's my lame excuse for leaving my blog so unattended. I will try to do a better job at giving you something interesting to read and hopefully some photos along the way too. </div></div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-856784880863382392011-06-22T13:29:00.003-05:002011-06-22T13:48:20.163-05:00Dreary Day Food<div>What does a wet, dreary day like this call for??</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfr8PZorKFNbUW1nIzG7HnrAQaH_ETuzOJY2SpIV3UZ3XsX80MLOsWAAlBhespgmixxr9EbRtTHFXGKtzJ8mwIaVazKBIzVlwOXqNeu7viFF-WFOEdS2tRcY-NkcoX1s3NTZ8UMP0c0_E/s1600/IMG_3861.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfr8PZorKFNbUW1nIzG7HnrAQaH_ETuzOJY2SpIV3UZ3XsX80MLOsWAAlBhespgmixxr9EbRtTHFXGKtzJ8mwIaVazKBIzVlwOXqNeu7viFF-WFOEdS2tRcY-NkcoX1s3NTZ8UMP0c0_E/s400/IMG_3861.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621117351779309394" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>Why...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_Pmkfl1dbUkR-JSlh7KAq9O8m6G1z6W5LY7Gzhh-Mm-GJo5Pao3MLX_EpIfR8nPbujWgt1LjEcsc9aHnuLhkCPxVFmMjHSPYmvNzafguG-87cILPMb-2zX4aXbpTD6rT0JPGtOVcjSc/s1600/IMG_3838.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjH_Pmkfl1dbUkR-JSlh7KAq9O8m6G1z6W5LY7Gzhh-Mm-GJo5Pao3MLX_EpIfR8nPbujWgt1LjEcsc9aHnuLhkCPxVFmMjHSPYmvNzafguG-87cILPMb-2zX4aXbpTD6rT0JPGtOVcjSc/s400/IMG_3838.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621117347246143666" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>a...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-smJa98h-Finf7RCB3cqEcbZh_Vz7GDse9sAfTgbuLRAE5O1z2bBoICAiuPiRY6d_pkRUHo-JVWId_ghHUB_AfUS55KC81eWBRbD1_aZLlVul0ZpnLbd2EqXyrxnPeftsV1esCOvOkc/s1600/IMG_3837.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-smJa98h-Finf7RCB3cqEcbZh_Vz7GDse9sAfTgbuLRAE5O1z2bBoICAiuPiRY6d_pkRUHo-JVWId_ghHUB_AfUS55KC81eWBRbD1_aZLlVul0ZpnLbd2EqXyrxnPeftsV1esCOvOkc/s400/IMG_3837.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621117344776719458" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>warm...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqSHhT6A9XSpsm5Rf4QusS5rpon0yHvot7tBhXlPzaYZKRb90jiRw2RONwTqx7_yk33UF6mN3n5LRAY1l3BqH5iNjgn-9QFWPKjb2-sUpXAZ9qiibgGCZz2M4Woxvb7pdV8QG0TjPtbI/s1600/IMG_3832.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqSHhT6A9XSpsm5Rf4QusS5rpon0yHvot7tBhXlPzaYZKRb90jiRw2RONwTqx7_yk33UF6mN3n5LRAY1l3BqH5iNjgn-9QFWPKjb2-sUpXAZ9qiibgGCZz2M4Woxvb7pdV8QG0TjPtbI/s400/IMG_3832.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621115640376922962" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>delicious...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaGiCHnYml9NjVUtfwpZ9T0JliXA77hoTKeg9Ya3uzWc1Q0ojAixMQpsC20tW-Eca4AH-cGgLprz5-nSRvxt-XY0cJWWUghQpUvqk093G79DOmrxIuqHXqGttvrzLNpLDHjXtVXUNlAQ/s1600/IMG_3851.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaGiCHnYml9NjVUtfwpZ9T0JliXA77hoTKeg9Ya3uzWc1Q0ojAixMQpsC20tW-Eca4AH-cGgLprz5-nSRvxt-XY0cJWWUghQpUvqk093G79DOmrxIuqHXqGttvrzLNpLDHjXtVXUNlAQ/s400/IMG_3851.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621115633861736274" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>buttery...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwrGLVu6G3oH4zw-C4kf9HpBRlmqmTPT64X-im_JfTEw1HyzeVArPD0Epqvnm8HR__1d5JZJvxZRq31_iLspqi8ey9FPOSa_rUfgX_Bk0-IqD3Eu7U9YhixaiOnsiFOLtuEMFMSYLE4A/s1600/IMG_3853.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwrGLVu6G3oH4zw-C4kf9HpBRlmqmTPT64X-im_JfTEw1HyzeVArPD0Epqvnm8HR__1d5JZJvxZRq31_iLspqi8ey9FPOSa_rUfgX_Bk0-IqD3Eu7U9YhixaiOnsiFOLtuEMFMSYLE4A/s400/IMG_3853.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621115625871527266" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>grilled...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw95sCWJGFibO1UgrM5_KtDQ7-jYIcvIK-k-yUNerXRdc-rrJw7L9Lz2rWcjHTy-W_Ms5zv-QxH4D2BPgstnucAEbKkZH_Kl2bw0q-mWOfXH2iGVt5LbYaq1P1Oj-46TJYphTcdM-TmM4/s1600/IMG_3856.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw95sCWJGFibO1UgrM5_KtDQ7-jYIcvIK-k-yUNerXRdc-rrJw7L9Lz2rWcjHTy-W_Ms5zv-QxH4D2BPgstnucAEbKkZH_Kl2bw0q-mWOfXH2iGVt5LbYaq1P1Oj-46TJYphTcdM-TmM4/s400/IMG_3856.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621115619216493090" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>cheese, of course!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZd40bo3YuYqiqgJenex0Eivnm4exCQz78uRlo6R2qVTKVRPysofuiLplrB1AyzOWCD5OXdoNrBRwGwfWb4jikomp9g3yXhqZSiFYXSv4c1eOYh-sgtsDhP2dKVE4E_go3yvbBjLpUks/s1600/IMG_3857.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZd40bo3YuYqiqgJenex0Eivnm4exCQz78uRlo6R2qVTKVRPysofuiLplrB1AyzOWCD5OXdoNrBRwGwfWb4jikomp9g3yXhqZSiFYXSv4c1eOYh-sgtsDhP2dKVE4E_go3yvbBjLpUks/s400/IMG_3857.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621115616085506386" /></a></div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-19928384071576917432011-06-14T08:55:00.002-05:002011-06-14T09:32:17.794-05:00G.O.G.W.A few weekends ago, I was blessed to have the opportunity to spend 3 days away with some great girlfriends in Galveston. It was such a relaxing and rejuvenating time spent doing pretty much nothing but lying around, reading, chatting, sleeping, & eating. I took some pictures and so did my friend Ashley. I gave her mine to put with hers, so I'm going to send you over to her blog to see all the pics. I know. It's lazy blogging at its best. Click <a href="http://mcwhorterfamily.blogspot.com/2011/06/gogw-2011.html">here</a>.Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-68059106352763030022011-05-24T09:09:00.000-05:002011-05-24T10:15:10.639-05:00Ten on Tuesday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7om6w2P3gVbR4FjcW2BkDyYi93liIvciBRVKSimxQsRzzbSMaUFHpKJRLfYYDHSs7pCcPHc0SWmDSSh-v9PNJgG6mxnfbpJeJFqWq99rf4eRxlmQiegQosgboAnKSmU7TIHIafHF2_8c/s1600/rr10tuesday.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 125px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7om6w2P3gVbR4FjcW2BkDyYi93liIvciBRVKSimxQsRzzbSMaUFHpKJRLfYYDHSs7pCcPHc0SWmDSSh-v9PNJgG6mxnfbpJeJFqWq99rf4eRxlmQiegQosgboAnKSmU7TIHIafHF2_8c/s320/rr10tuesday.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610027247552667538" /></a><br /><b>1. Have you ever used Craigslist?</b><div>I have not, but I use a classifieds section on a local website to buy & sell stuff ALL THE TIME. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>2. Can you sew?</b></div><div>Well, no I cannot. My husband bought me a very simple sewing machine for Christmas and my goal was to take a lesson or two so that I could do some basic sewing. I have yet to do that. I attempt to teach myself and, well....that didn't end so well. I couldn't even thread the bobbin <i>whatever that even means</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>3. Do you pour syrup on your pancakes or dip your pancakes in syrup?</b></div><div>I pour it on, but very little of it. My pancake motto: More Butter, Less Syrup</div><div><br /></div><div><b>4. Rain storms: Love them or hate them?</b></div><div>Definitely depends on what I'm doing. Lying in bed in a cabin with a tin roof, watching a movie or reading a good book while drifting in & out of naps - Love them. <i>Who am I kidding? Not you, I suppose. That NEVER happens. </i>Trying to get my kids in & out of the car to run to Wal Mart to grab milk & diapers while it's pouring on us - Hate them. So I guess I hate them.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>5. Do you like swimming?</b></div><div>Umm, not really I guess. I like laying out by a pool. I like dipping in and cooling off. But actually swimming....nah.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>6. What kind of drink do you order at Sonic?</b></div><div>I'm not a big Sonic person. I don't eat there and I don't really go there just for a drink like a lot of people I know. I have tried a cherry limeade and it's alright...not sure what all the fuss is about. I definitely do not like real chunks of fruit coming up through my straw and surprising me when I'm expecting a liquid...blech! </div><div><br /></div><div><b>7. Are you funny?</b></div><div>Hmm...I suppose that would be a question you to answer.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>8. At what age will your kids get cell phones?</b></div><div>Interesting that this question would be asked. I just had a conversation with my 8 year old about it. She said a few of her friends had recently gotten cell phones and she was wondering when she would be able to get one. To which my response was, "Oh honey, I'm so sorry you don't have a cell phone yet and that you weren't the first of your friends to get one. Let's go to the AT&T store now and get you an iPhone!" <i>RIIIIGHT! </i>I told her it would be a very, very long time before she was able to get one. I'm thinking...14, 15 maybe?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>9. What's your favorite vegetable?</b></div><div>Ha! Well isn't this a loaded question!? I am not a big vegetable eater. Some people label themselves a Vegetarian. I am a Carnivore. Love me some meat & potatoes. I will eat a select few veggies, and I guess I'd say my favorite is green beans. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>10. Were you a Girl Scout?</b></div><div>I was a Brownie, but I don't have recollection of ever graduating to Girl Scout status, so I guess the answer is no.</div><div><br /></div><div>For more Ten on Tuesday fun, click <a href="http://rootsandrings.com/2011/05/ten-on-tuesday-81/">here</a>.</div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-66821520585147116332011-05-19T11:19:00.006-05:002011-05-19T11:31:46.228-05:00It Happened Again<div style="text-align: left;">It happened again. My baby girl started Kindergarten. I took a quick nap. And she was graduating when I woke up. Darn! How does that happen!? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My girl walking into school for her first day as a Kindergartener. I swear that backpack doesn't look nearly as big on her now. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhCDktiwW4i4JYdBmwnbJOiWvNh0xlV8pwxdylzYbdJY6LLINv6z6RE-DGtuGDfbGf8WIM1ZRniPW111hvk6zanZezM6xN5FgrreKE0c14qFA6urUb5nXvoCkCAdcFkd3GYwvLGhLOO3U/s1600/IMG_2426.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhCDktiwW4i4JYdBmwnbJOiWvNh0xlV8pwxdylzYbdJY6LLINv6z6RE-DGtuGDfbGf8WIM1ZRniPW111hvk6zanZezM6xN5FgrreKE0c14qFA6urUb5nXvoCkCAdcFkd3GYwvLGhLOO3U/s320/IMG_2426.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608463377944089522" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpjTXJM5zW8xroEpPlE8if3-b2BNbHaxr3_It3IQcE6I0p3IDPWDxuZ8x7Uy6fiNS1WZ-Acu1HD0l84QenZ4I6dOIqgTNxc2YHxW8qttpQja1ecOVYH5bj86gHDg80K4qXe7bpIW2GhbQ/s1600/IMG_2428.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpjTXJM5zW8xroEpPlE8if3-b2BNbHaxr3_It3IQcE6I0p3IDPWDxuZ8x7Uy6fiNS1WZ-Acu1HD0l84QenZ4I6dOIqgTNxc2YHxW8qttpQja1ecOVYH5bj86gHDg80K4qXe7bpIW2GhbQ/s320/IMG_2428.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608463374646726866" /></a><br /><div>Graduating today!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigWVb9dTI8lvzoGOBZNbSOJ9D9C9JIRyZHrD9Rre3I6IKluqagKZ2wcHOfto-oW_J2CP7wjpsIFPLKpE6GY78oejCwTUY4LBtw4KDHg2XB3htaT_We9yUp-gVB7MYkYGZdNDFaepLQA0/s1600/IMG_2973.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigWVb9dTI8lvzoGOBZNbSOJ9D9C9JIRyZHrD9Rre3I6IKluqagKZ2wcHOfto-oW_J2CP7wjpsIFPLKpE6GY78oejCwTUY4LBtw4KDHg2XB3htaT_We9yUp-gVB7MYkYGZdNDFaepLQA0/s320/IMG_2973.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608463370318395570" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjET4OKVG6tFrNU1dMF0RoBE92_EQ3JMkNmQaRxb8Qo2LjPsg6r0bCgaXwSauLvhULiaMAEWbj0ksdLHtYnFQOPHHodEUyIVDxB-UjGRZ4mKrhINDcpvcbN0pUP6R8XVrervIuk5iE6eWU/s1600/IMG_2974.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjET4OKVG6tFrNU1dMF0RoBE92_EQ3JMkNmQaRxb8Qo2LjPsg6r0bCgaXwSauLvhULiaMAEWbj0ksdLHtYnFQOPHHodEUyIVDxB-UjGRZ4mKrhINDcpvcbN0pUP6R8XVrervIuk5iE6eWU/s320/IMG_2974.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608463366766347330" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQCEv5AWpxSctho9UaGlBh1d_66FSOOUzxaOt-zMm8Ai7jy1EzKlr3i3mMsXAaxlrtV6opM-qw1ctWCSXe6P0r91ry3SKc8VdDriuLvpWQSOFOCCSYKe-ubI3zTEQgoTWV1Sa1EipEhvU/s320/IMG_2981.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608463450475837330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><a href="http://themillerexperience.blogspot.com/2010/08/another-one-off-to-kindergarten.html">Her first day...</a></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDO2ndXM6hILO2RQ3RZUadq8TkWS-tnvkjdlHU-7E05qeIGYCODze3Dcb8ZGfzC7e6klcGCVS_Lhh8hxrBh-64Hu3e095l5P06n_ityA83wTUasbY745DyO_mh5_dSqsObQfDut7yfiM/s1600/IMG_2421.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDO2ndXM6hILO2RQ3RZUadq8TkWS-tnvkjdlHU-7E05qeIGYCODze3Dcb8ZGfzC7e6klcGCVS_Lhh8hxrBh-64Hu3e095l5P06n_ityA83wTUasbY745DyO_mh5_dSqsObQfDut7yfiM/s320/IMG_2421.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608463089287606018" /></a><br /></div><div>...and today.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIa20-u3q_ocNxZskKv1m56kL9ORLz_stivVzYp91hANAeoRsDj5tR4s7lMgf0nDwi3ywhmH9ptgmA_Rl4UFX0Xy0fWo5h2oiT6tR9K1ZShKlFQyUEqzqDysobr0ESzXwzDxbXI9d87OA/s1600/IMG_2992.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIa20-u3q_ocNxZskKv1m56kL9ORLz_stivVzYp91hANAeoRsDj5tR4s7lMgf0nDwi3ywhmH9ptgmA_Rl4UFX0Xy0fWo5h2oiT6tR9K1ZShKlFQyUEqzqDysobr0ESzXwzDxbXI9d87OA/s320/IMG_2992.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608463086601243490" /></a>In the words of John Mayer, "Stop this train. I want to get off and go home again. I can't take the speed it's moving in. I know I can't, but honestly won't someone stop this train."</div></div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-4879676761609324242011-05-17T09:45:00.006-05:002011-05-17T10:17:04.950-05:00Ten on Tuesday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPKZ4sNjkllK8VRXTwa_lMXIyHKUeGohRkmYf41r921yDx2SbTStjjsaiUuz3HPrFR4ASXPRP5W8nt29qaSEQvTnDRiYifhBDsl05NwbjPs49POgVXTwN5BaxEK7TFmydeZb-R6JC9sNg/s1600/rr10tuesday.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 125px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPKZ4sNjkllK8VRXTwa_lMXIyHKUeGohRkmYf41r921yDx2SbTStjjsaiUuz3HPrFR4ASXPRP5W8nt29qaSEQvTnDRiYifhBDsl05NwbjPs49POgVXTwN5BaxEK7TFmydeZb-R6JC9sNg/s320/rr10tuesday.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607699325298552914" /></a><br /><div>This is a photo edition of ToT. Post a photo of each of the following:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>1. Your favorite piece of furniture in your home.</b></div><div>Love, love, love my white chair. Always have. Always will.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfiRAUEl2_uNC94K_EwxD09HGrc1mQUxSPipHoc7HHxCVnHB9BacoTCQ6Ac_2Fs27AwWlhrGqcWMj_UeG1oIg-9RbMv_b0iqEhTwsU08uxt78nxs2JfihBSST8cYOcjduZ6ji3O3tJl3g/s1600/photo-11.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfiRAUEl2_uNC94K_EwxD09HGrc1mQUxSPipHoc7HHxCVnHB9BacoTCQ6Ac_2Fs27AwWlhrGqcWMj_UeG1oIg-9RbMv_b0iqEhTwsU08uxt78nxs2JfihBSST8cYOcjduZ6ji3O3tJl3g/s400/photo-11.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607699193677258402" /></a><br /><div><b>2. Your favorite thing on your wall.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">This clock I got at a really cool store in the Heights in Houston and I love the look of it. It's the first thing people see when they walk in my house.<br /></span></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXdlfJUteWslY57ELWR2QKuhsWZVWgE8eelgUUl7_Hxydfw9XoWt-QnuljSsVpxmgeecHy1kDWD6firW-ZuNM40aDahdyO8JiOBVI358EZ7N9py7y0fKjegBdlfYlF6ViCf2UGyUiqYCw/s1600/photo-12.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXdlfJUteWslY57ELWR2QKuhsWZVWgE8eelgUUl7_Hxydfw9XoWt-QnuljSsVpxmgeecHy1kDWD6firW-ZuNM40aDahdyO8JiOBVI358EZ7N9py7y0fKjegBdlfYlF6ViCf2UGyUiqYCw/s400/photo-12.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607699190299214930" /></a><br /></div><div><b>3. Your bed as it looks right now.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">No, I definitely do not always make my bed. But I try to make it as much as possible. It makes me happy to walk by my room and have my bed made. </span><br /></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklhsTgf-d-h0CZUvT_jFA7hUI9F_EZpPzS0jhGzG9ZtOd93pIdJnUgGOYsQ0X2TTTtQGVHJcT0sbwqmdm2zv6L3yQFIv9knqTEp16AgQc8eqS7Jv_PyuCHUNt7CzGt5bHOV4drg_NcKg/s1600/photo-13.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklhsTgf-d-h0CZUvT_jFA7hUI9F_EZpPzS0jhGzG9ZtOd93pIdJnUgGOYsQ0X2TTTtQGVHJcT0sbwqmdm2zv6L3yQFIv9knqTEp16AgQc8eqS7Jv_PyuCHUNt7CzGt5bHOV4drg_NcKg/s400/photo-13.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607699180573673378" /></a><br /></div><div><b>5. Your pantry.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">One of the few things I would change in my house if I could....the pantry. It's TOO SMALL. But we manage to pack quite a few things in it, regardless.</span><br /></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHceC4bd_guelV2pJsaOHhFnM00ICxwh7NPkneMRHOdqvSbIz9ibELcv8bcWodkBRIQ2Z3yxNJeEHgy3plAhvUrmlD7OG1kQ-OUQdUn1B0uLsmq7dMwYNgYO7NVgFDuA_iBmDoEY0vO3U/s1600/photo-14.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHceC4bd_guelV2pJsaOHhFnM00ICxwh7NPkneMRHOdqvSbIz9ibELcv8bcWodkBRIQ2Z3yxNJeEHgy3plAhvUrmlD7OG1kQ-OUQdUn1B0uLsmq7dMwYNgYO7NVgFDuA_iBmDoEY0vO3U/s400/photo-14.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607699177429685602" /></a><br /></div><div><b>6. Your favorite piece of jewelry.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I adore this necklace and I wear it almost every day. </span><br /></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2hOVDWyIDVOg5m0UKO1HxsbtFjLxnR3BYk2zmQRJvzAhw46zJTCSaV8sfUTl9tnMPfPJuAR7GsLxYyua0e2ADQwSoIre3TJKLyZ7k8eo-NEiRRywyTMV7en8nn4Xkj_VKhR9qmIcySc/s1600/photo-19.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2hOVDWyIDVOg5m0UKO1HxsbtFjLxnR3BYk2zmQRJvzAhw46zJTCSaV8sfUTl9tnMPfPJuAR7GsLxYyua0e2ADQwSoIre3TJKLyZ7k8eo-NEiRRywyTMV7en8nn4Xkj_VKhR9qmIcySc/s400/photo-19.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607699173592504882" /></a><br /></div><div><b>6. Your favorite book.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I am aware this seems like such a cliche answer, but the truth is I'm not much of a reader (just don't have the time) and this is certainly the book I read the most. Oh, in case you can't tell, it's my Bible. It's The Message translation. I love this translation of it. It's written in I-Can-Understand-What-It's-Saying-Because-It's-Written-How-I-Speak Language.</span><br /></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfX8jw9_DkirNVGAC27bXKa7KXsASSLSUlFfJdfpljbbYzNKG5Or-NwQOoLMLnGJH3357QX61c0ivD2gv_XLMw2cuPWfGm2DQEaAy_YpwGwdUuJrCu6ZGr5qRLUBClII46R5_LOt2Rk7E/s1600/photo-15.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfX8jw9_DkirNVGAC27bXKa7KXsASSLSUlFfJdfpljbbYzNKG5Or-NwQOoLMLnGJH3357QX61c0ivD2gv_XLMw2cuPWfGm2DQEaAy_YpwGwdUuJrCu6ZGr5qRLUBClII46R5_LOt2Rk7E/s400/photo-15.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607697909543709586" /></a><br /></div><div><b>7. Your most comfortable shirt.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I'm sure most people will post a picture of some old raggedy t-shirt they've had since college. I'm not a t-shirt gal. And we all know my <a href="http://themillerexperience.blogspot.com/2011/04/tank-holic.html">obsession with tanks</a>. I love this tank right now. It's very soft and super stretchy.<br /></span></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKCAzPqCzaJc8PijXjzrm7pBBlOJAK5E3vadxwQhMHEy7HLF3RFqknsbo3GtRadaY5RUBT1kxJMvF4gxZypMbn_f1IVB3sx8gmp9CLT6ovYyFMxmfhlQNwK0wfTKI2usE4Az-q3tn_U7s/s1600/photo-17.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKCAzPqCzaJc8PijXjzrm7pBBlOJAK5E3vadxwQhMHEy7HLF3RFqknsbo3GtRadaY5RUBT1kxJMvF4gxZypMbn_f1IVB3sx8gmp9CLT6ovYyFMxmfhlQNwK0wfTKI2usE4Az-q3tn_U7s/s400/photo-17.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607697910102465138" /></a><br /></div><div><b>8. Your messiest room.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Technically this isn't a room. It's a closet. But I truly keep every room in our house picked up most of the time. So this was the only thing messy at the moment. And it stays looking like this. It's our closet under our stairs and we use it to store shoes, jackets, the kids' backpacks, & boxes of other random things. The kids use this space on a daily basis because it's where they go to get their shoes & backpacks in the morning and where they put them away in the afternoon. They don't care much to keep it nice & tidy. And because I can just close the door, I don't worry much about it either.</span><br /></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5wHWJaUOCUilr-U59EQsb9YPSS6-Gr_X7xev9zgRTHjOOp1-G4wbmgoDE0HPEh5joTY83xJGXGj2ifalSYluuZRPSLSvP-9tVqsXZFCzpzTjz94F1bL3IKr_QJTfpKgjW6P-q_4yL3w/s1600/photo-18.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5wHWJaUOCUilr-U59EQsb9YPSS6-Gr_X7xev9zgRTHjOOp1-G4wbmgoDE0HPEh5joTY83xJGXGj2ifalSYluuZRPSLSvP-9tVqsXZFCzpzTjz94F1bL3IKr_QJTfpKgjW6P-q_4yL3w/s400/photo-18.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607697902024585138" /></a>Yikes. Did I really just post a picture of that train wreck on the internet for everyone to see??</div><div><br /></div><div><b>9. Your house shoes.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">If I'm in my house, you can pretty much guarantee I am barefoot. </span><br /></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0jVkWbMZr0Ij9nagzm53x3sw_SD6loURr9mLBLxSTqIcx2TAbzKA41YNpxwLIguvY9StrE2vkOK6mOawuuQijpJQfH-q7IDLEB5UonXvEiST66RsyCnoWB1GIQDw-IUw-aqfUzdapjOU/s1600/photo-21.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0jVkWbMZr0Ij9nagzm53x3sw_SD6loURr9mLBLxSTqIcx2TAbzKA41YNpxwLIguvY9StrE2vkOK6mOawuuQijpJQfH-q7IDLEB5UonXvEiST66RsyCnoWB1GIQDw-IUw-aqfUzdapjOU/s400/photo-21.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607697893770600338" /></a>Oh and if you're wondering why it looks like I don't have a nail on my left pinky toe, that's because I don't. I ripped it off the other day. Fun times.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>10. Yourself.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Now you know since I'm a photographer and I see things differently than others, I couldn't just post a plain ole picture I snapped of myself. I took this not too long ago while I was laying on the trampoline in the backyard. </span><br /></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JA-dVETVWwmi5KgiCZw7n9GESb445DjEV8f1SMepfs1NCIatv_yPY3DLJ2N9hZRCwJ1bea-mlZV-GD9UBrns2BLZpebhODOcXGwXAU17ghkBahL52ISDzRELNDuztlkPYTVHmDG2BiY/s1600/photo-20.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEi0JA-dVETVWwmi5KgiCZw7n9GESb445DjEV8f1SMepfs1NCIatv_yPY3DLJ2N9hZRCwJ1bea-mlZV-GD9UBrns2BLZpebhODOcXGwXAU17ghkBahL52ISDzRELNDuztlkPYTVHmDG2BiY/s400/photo-20.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607697889975065170" /></a><br /></div><div>For more Ten on Tuesday, click <a href="http://rootsandrings.com/2011/05/ten-on-tuesday-80/">here</a>.</div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-39588058951104329532011-05-09T18:26:00.005-05:002011-05-10T08:23:11.817-05:00Ten on Tuesday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5-24MR4hdhKB9O5mbWOE7Rdj1S7WrvLBVDdsjlgpnKvwcmfaEqaPZc3tfZj5mUe11UDTnTmIHZpe-2cuPBhWkbSAwz8lv7yRQnB5L0JzPIHt7eYlR4k_vpcCc5SV5blvfLcuq-83MpEY/s1600/rr10tuesday.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 125px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5-24MR4hdhKB9O5mbWOE7Rdj1S7WrvLBVDdsjlgpnKvwcmfaEqaPZc3tfZj5mUe11UDTnTmIHZpe-2cuPBhWkbSAwz8lv7yRQnB5L0JzPIHt7eYlR4k_vpcCc5SV5blvfLcuq-83MpEY/s320/rr10tuesday.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605077412821914338" /></a><br /><b><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b>1. If you could watch only one movie for the rest of your life, what would it be?</b></span></div></b><div>Wow. This is a tough one. This is probably going to sound like the most cliche answer ever, but I think I'd choose Steel Magnolias. It is definitely one of my favorite movies and it makes me laugh & cry. So if I could choose only one, why not a movie that gives me both of those emotions? <i>But I have to just state for the record, that I would be a very unhappy person if I could only watch one movie for the rest of my life. Very unhappy.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><b>2. Let's say someone wrote a screenplay about you; what actor/actress would you choose to play you and why?</b></div><div>Hmm...another tough one. Well I would have to choose Charlize Theron for her beauty, Tina Fey for her sense of humor, & Heidi Klum for her body. What's that? Oh, this person is supposed to look & act like me? Oh, well in that case...I have no idea.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>3. What's the first movie you remember seeing in the theaters?</b></div><div>I feel quite certain that I had seen movies before this one but the first one that comes to mind is Ghost. I remember going with my babysitter and at a particular point in the movie, she said to me, "Come on. Let's go to the bathroom." "But I don't need to go the bathroom," I said. " It doesn't matter. Let's go to the bathroom!" I found out later in life that my Mom had seen the movie already and had instructed her to take me out of the theater when the <i>ahem </i>pottery scene came on.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>4. Did you ever make out at the back of the movie theater in middle school/high school?</b></div><div>Heavens no!</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>5. Are you a Netflix-er, Blockbuster-er, or a Redbox-er? (Or none of the above)?</b></div><div>We are definitely Redbox-ers! I have the Redbox app on my phone so I can search what movies are available at which Redbox closest to me and we rent from them all the time! And we love it that they are now renting Bluerays!</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>6. Name one actor/actress who you would give anything to have a dinner date with.</b></div><div>To be honest there's no actor/actress that I would "give anything" to have dinner with. But if I could have dinner with one and NOT have to "give anything" I would probably choose Steve Martin. Love me some Steve Martin!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>7. What's the worst movie you've ever seen?</b></div><div>Well the only movie I've ever walked out of the theater while the movie was still playing was Joe Dirt. So I guess I'd have to say that's the winner of the worst movie I've ever seen. I can assure you that'll be the only thing that movie will ever win.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>8. Do you sneak snacks into the theater when you go?</b></div><div>I do bring one thing with me into the theater. Twizzlers. I can pay $4.50 for the tiniest bag of them at the theater or I can pay $2 for a huge bag from Wal Mart. It's a pretty obvious choice.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>9. Movie theater popcorn: love or hate it?</b></div><div>Umm...neither really. I like it. I'll eat a few handfuls if someone next to me has some but I rarely get my own bucket. Twizzlers & a Mr. Pibb are about all I need to be happy during a movie. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>10. What is the all-time best Disney movie in your opinion?</b></div><div>This one is easy. The Little Mermaid. Hands down. Best music!! I know every word of every song in that entire movie. I will say The Princess Frog gave it a run for it's money with the fantastic music it had too, but The Little Mermaid remained at the top of my list. </div><div><br /></div><div>For more Ten on Tuesdays click <a href="http://rootsandrings.com/2011/05/ten-on-tuesday-79/">here</a>.</div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-73216036930657449002011-04-24T23:03:00.000-05:002011-04-24T23:04:48.844-05:00A Few Glimpses of Easter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVngvAH7mAEDyzMXAHEc7uOMhESpzsK_dmc-j3svtlyMN6Fkt-i5BHZRB-nyZYE4TI0yL8RcHijXWWHp4sYM4er1hVMReTXTTnnKKxObHtkpZsNS4PSGBejYHwRV48XRECcnUTZwpNUPg/s1600/mack+easter.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVngvAH7mAEDyzMXAHEc7uOMhESpzsK_dmc-j3svtlyMN6Fkt-i5BHZRB-nyZYE4TI0yL8RcHijXWWHp4sYM4er1hVMReTXTTnnKKxObHtkpZsNS4PSGBejYHwRV48XRECcnUTZwpNUPg/s400/mack+easter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599367131887626322" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi53cL097U3VL6QJApo2Kfyvy4456tr1k31p4OPslij1Um-sf3nH8l2LkpNGmEzxgg5WcDcSVAoIYMWJ2JxAtREV6E9EkJBZV_0tuAwPssUtnmHNMJUP_Xz9rc3QOjmgW7rV-Qxe_VHmuY/s1600/reagan+easter.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi53cL097U3VL6QJApo2Kfyvy4456tr1k31p4OPslij1Um-sf3nH8l2LkpNGmEzxgg5WcDcSVAoIYMWJ2JxAtREV6E9EkJBZV_0tuAwPssUtnmHNMJUP_Xz9rc3QOjmgW7rV-Qxe_VHmuY/s400/reagan+easter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599367134082410594" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahn7iyU6yaJMkx3R1ocDKLg0RfAnTiJM1KtqSUn33d2Se87dPckneTIFg9tox6wxZwNCC9MSdMUlGiS_MRWzAtIxnsB5TUxUwYYK09Q7BTUtE5ldxYcTc4cWlwxPfjpnB7HjWS6d5Kmg/s1600/girls+easter.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahn7iyU6yaJMkx3R1ocDKLg0RfAnTiJM1KtqSUn33d2Se87dPckneTIFg9tox6wxZwNCC9MSdMUlGiS_MRWzAtIxnsB5TUxUwYYK09Q7BTUtE5ldxYcTc4cWlwxPfjpnB7HjWS6d5Kmg/s400/girls+easter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599367129607882866" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc1PfK7fv7bZTkbid7s9qJZsm8vV_DAkkxugjwjOhrRapV5g-sIN53vaWEssV4J62PTPhxAkZfUim1BBuGV6lF0NIqjy7n1wyAnsdcVUYTMBXLz1-yeo6MT0SN-H4QoAeuiy2Nw7_lae0/s1600/family+easter.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc1PfK7fv7bZTkbid7s9qJZsm8vV_DAkkxugjwjOhrRapV5g-sIN53vaWEssV4J62PTPhxAkZfUim1BBuGV6lF0NIqjy7n1wyAnsdcVUYTMBXLz1-yeo6MT0SN-H4QoAeuiy2Nw7_lae0/s400/family+easter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599367129600193858" /></a>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-47736038707981258472011-04-13T17:35:00.007-05:002011-04-13T19:48:10.732-05:00Tank-a-holic<div>I have a problem. I. Am. Addicted. to tank tops. I love them, love them, love them.</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz64pZfzDWFRu_Hwz3RwMnu7qzvaf2cJxk47q13e-M2shqneI1Bil-SkJnUgZ-qvGgBwtmn9brrpYfDF9lSSpOzJ7waj7e57zoXNJtqKkb886ouU3xFW2fEhQ9j5fhZW8d_ze-5YWirgk/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhz64pZfzDWFRu_Hwz3RwMnu7qzvaf2cJxk47q13e-M2shqneI1Bil-SkJnUgZ-qvGgBwtmn9brrpYfDF9lSSpOzJ7waj7e57zoXNJtqKkb886ouU3xFW2fEhQ9j5fhZW8d_ze-5YWirgk/s400/Untitled-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595201197879081538" /></a><br /><div>I don't discriminate when it comes to tanks. I like colored ones.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZT-9fPD8It6uODV42H4Fz_r4-XV6EZMQx2aRk8NCL49X7iBBrN-krZZzmGBa63wOSveTWmGUFg3ryG2xMNghMhfj6kkEz8IJaz3aG-ts52plANS5_Tg7pMYtf9eg0mFCqbydQfbYSnwk/s1600/IMG_1987.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhZT-9fPD8It6uODV42H4Fz_r4-XV6EZMQx2aRk8NCL49X7iBBrN-krZZzmGBa63wOSveTWmGUFg3ryG2xMNghMhfj6kkEz8IJaz3aG-ts52plANS5_Tg7pMYtf9eg0mFCqbydQfbYSnwk/s400/IMG_1987.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595201127525028130" /></a><br /></div><div>I like white ones.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-VmeJ2teODwq-7fcuCmpDe8PpbPG8ZqobWPT7LyqWkVZZX3cQveaUSDK8cus-FLmQFf93WNQsbZWe4m0eWpadE0M2cIRk0xDbdtmUdJB2nLRtN8x_e9rZ8tDEwGGbGYOdA_gBEgZtR8/s1600/IMG_1990.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEht-VmeJ2teODwq-7fcuCmpDe8PpbPG8ZqobWPT7LyqWkVZZX3cQveaUSDK8cus-FLmQFf93WNQsbZWe4m0eWpadE0M2cIRk0xDbdtmUdJB2nLRtN8x_e9rZ8tDEwGGbGYOdA_gBEgZtR8/s400/IMG_1990.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595201126757328530" /></a><br /></div><div>I like skinny straps.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNejlwzONSyHbvP6B9C6kZO1VpE7F3mnqVMCka_AlkoWd0ZWWnKl0r_fHmTjNPpV5EV3sSSdarWAcORfTNQflioJYyNFiEny0B2hxhjDxEjpUYptMcIXaBzE_9jbpa5tlCWtlKeOC6wY/s1600/IMG_1999.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNejlwzONSyHbvP6B9C6kZO1VpE7F3mnqVMCka_AlkoWd0ZWWnKl0r_fHmTjNPpV5EV3sSSdarWAcORfTNQflioJYyNFiEny0B2hxhjDxEjpUYptMcIXaBzE_9jbpa5tlCWtlKeOC6wY/s400/IMG_1999.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595201120383019874" /></a><br /></div><div>I like thick straps.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1zePM0E2KvjLNlu9TdqkS8r4OILsng8Tl-zV9HpxqpNjNQ8fclA4tkr0b3qUarOXNSLL7WtKPY53RES04-I1Eq_WYrB62b4fl6YQD2HmSDtm_eUnuoYCLFwL2q3rV0pmP4CgtXibY5o/s1600/IMG_2000.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgd1zePM0E2KvjLNlu9TdqkS8r4OILsng8Tl-zV9HpxqpNjNQ8fclA4tkr0b3qUarOXNSLL7WtKPY53RES04-I1Eq_WYrB62b4fl6YQD2HmSDtm_eUnuoYCLFwL2q3rV0pmP4CgtXibY5o/s400/IMG_2000.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595201115033162738" /></a><br /></div><div>Some with lace. Some without.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJgaNo0glUtaa649Gr6Yf2SXtb-sdPrmOBOiivmPAOSW290a1lU_1Z7sQGRiDuxA1UvhooPfp-YVKvZmBCpea99Jc96LTEdUp_RoXxN_C3rCyBjIS4nd6S1-HvSXbCHZtX-kcrPHRu2OE/s1600/IMG_1995.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjJgaNo0glUtaa649Gr6Yf2SXtb-sdPrmOBOiivmPAOSW290a1lU_1Z7sQGRiDuxA1UvhooPfp-YVKvZmBCpea99Jc96LTEdUp_RoXxN_C3rCyBjIS4nd6S1-HvSXbCHZtX-kcrPHRu2OE/s400/IMG_1995.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595201109060436642" /></a>I just like them all. This is my collection of "casual tanks." I also have a hefty row of tanks that hang in my closet because they're my "fancy ones." I love tanks. And I have a problem. But hey, the first part is admitting I have a problem, right? I am on the path to recovery. Oh, who am I kidding. No I'm not. And I don't wanna be. I will continue to buy more tanks. Buy them in the Summer & buy them in the Winter. I can't help myself. I'm a tank-a-holic.</div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-7556326216380420992011-03-31T12:23:00.004-05:002011-03-31T14:39:32.380-05:00Big Foot<div style="text-align: left;"><b>**Update: </b>A friend of mine had the suggestion of taking a picture of my foot now so you can see the difference and then <i>really</i> feel sorry for me. So at the bottom of the post is my foot today. :)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>Not to be confused with <i>Bigfoot</i>, the Sasquatch. Although I think I'd rather share a room with <i>that</i> Bigfoot than to ever have to encounter this one again. Behold...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNoI1WZFxkn8pKgvK27U9R_VdUJ754MGG_Q_zvuJOTH9WAwdv0C8UGhn6wWMuKkXXmac39kNgpHdHYhA66DMjFd5hld1UwGh5IZ9ezQkW8lPlPrPsdzy8xgo4neluShmq8vTQB6JHrXXI/s1600/foot.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNoI1WZFxkn8pKgvK27U9R_VdUJ754MGG_Q_zvuJOTH9WAwdv0C8UGhn6wWMuKkXXmac39kNgpHdHYhA66DMjFd5hld1UwGh5IZ9ezQkW8lPlPrPsdzy8xgo4neluShmq8vTQB6JHrXXI/s320/foot.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590296118320849794" /></a>Folks, this is not a joke. This is not some extraordinary Photoshop trickery. This is my foot. For reals. Oh and guess what, I had another one that matched this one. These were the feet that I had for the last 2 months of my pregnancy. 2 Months! These were the feet that I walked around on in the 100 degree heat for 4 hours at a ranch to accompany my Kindergartner on her very first field trip. These were the feet that I was unable to adorn in ANY shoe except one pair of black flip flops that are now so stretched out they fall immediately off my <i>normal</i> feet. These were the feet that I walked around malls, shopping centers, city streets, & the street I live on to try and kick start labor. These were the feet that made nurses get very concerned about what my blood pressure would be when they saw them. <i>And oddly enough, it was always completely normal....low in fact. </i>These were the feet that I stood on while photographing people & cooking meals for my family. These were the feet that I walked around on at the pools while taking my girls swimming. These were my feet even 3-4 weeks after Ty was born. Thankfully around that time they did start to go back to normal. But wow. Did I earn your sympathy? Good. I deserve it.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghv_AvJUxN6k6mqiKELnf0et5mKWP4BDW0h1sJ-g3GmjSUb6pK-hRezn1EmcUa1sknUqlswDPcPuIxiZBb8v4kZsHZIRwwT8Aw2QOmh9aBpMnEcqSEFlunxLRUPmZpHogKMnA_s37qdhU/s320/photo-9.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590330181255809650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px; " /></span></div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2978803817410896660.post-41484584062437826922011-03-30T14:59:00.002-05:002011-03-30T15:18:32.857-05:00Nada<div>Well, today I've got nada for you. Actually all week I've had nada for you. I just didn't have too many funny things for a Not Me Monday post & the Ten on Tuesday this week was all about what adventurous things you eat and cook with...that would have gone down as the most boring blog post ever, considering I eat & cook with nothing adventurous. So I had a nice run last week where I was posting almost daily, then I have weeks like this. Zilch. Nothing funny or clever or meaningful to say. So, since I wanted to give you guys at least <i>something</i> entertaining or interesting, I'll leave you with this picture to ponder over:</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnU9i4DRjovPMRcAGd2g6f06Ox0MCEDkUV0RifVdog6aiF26_x5vKWScuwGBfhtqZsm801ljgnX1IBz4oN7z46HqzwuyEX-Hppe6yfgpxS1Mqm0rDeVXYklAVkZpW94Orif4zfld3-7M/s1600/Photo+on+2011-03-30+at+14.58+%25233.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnU9i4DRjovPMRcAGd2g6f06Ox0MCEDkUV0RifVdog6aiF26_x5vKWScuwGBfhtqZsm801ljgnX1IBz4oN7z46HqzwuyEX-Hppe6yfgpxS1Mqm0rDeVXYklAVkZpW94Orif4zfld3-7M/s320/Photo+on+2011-03-30+at+14.58+%25233.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589966089758372002" /></a>Hmm....what comes to mind for you? Never mind. Don't tell me. I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what comes to mind when you see that picture. I can tell you what comes to my mind: "AAHHH!!" Seriously!? I was flipping through some old pictures on my computer yesterday and had the privilege of stumbling upon this one. Lucky me. This was me the morning that Ty was born. <i>Before</i> he was born. Not that that has a lot of relevance. I looked like this <i>after</i> he was born too. Wow. Can anyone say, "Swollen"? Don't get me wrong. I was also just hugely fat. I have always been one to use pregnancy as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted, whenever. And I did just that. More so with Ty's pregnancy than I did with the girls'. And much to my surprise when I went to my doctor 9 months after I had Ty I had lost all of my baby weight. The fastest I have ever done it. With both of my previous pregnancies it had taken me a full year and I hadn't gained as much weight those times. So I'm not sure what happened, but it very well could've been that I was lugging around a mini football player as soon as he was born. Anyhoo, that's all I've got for you. Just thought you might enjoy that beauty of a picture I was so fortunate enough to enjoy yesterday. Oh and if you're really lucky, I might share with you the picture I have of my foot the day Ty was born. Now THAT is a sight to behold... You'll just have to come back tomorrow and see for yourself.<div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Lindsayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08948265733718133273noreply@blogger.com1