tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38579177997803909242024-02-19T18:06:33.278-07:00Vis-a-vis My ProgenyUpdates and news about the Swensons, or anything else I find very interesting.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-86621137289013701932012-12-08T14:28:00.001-07:002012-12-08T14:28:08.955-07:00Hi guys! It's Emma! I got braces! they are red & green, and they HURT! That's all! Merry Christmas to all,<br />
and to all a good night!Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-9936633180535011702012-11-18T10:11:00.002-07:002012-11-18T10:11:29.060-07:00My craft bottle!Hey, what's up?! I have made some crafts lately, and I didn't have anywhere to put them, so I made this fun, easy, and quick craft! You need: a 2 litter bottle, colored paper, colored permanent markers, tape and stickers or whatever stick-on design. Take the bottle and cut of the top so you can put things in it, next, tape the colored paper around the bottle, last add some fun to it draw, and put the stick on design to it!Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-89780764569773775162012-11-18T10:05:00.003-07:002012-11-18T10:05:46.751-07:00Update!Hi It's Emma! Sorry we haven't blogged in a long time. I haven't thought of it, plus I am always busy! That<div>
keeps my mom busy too! Okay, this is what's been happening since I last blogged: I turned nine,I am in 4th grade, I got braces on and off (phase one, only on 4 teeth), we went on another cruise, but this time a Disney one. I do: </div>
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tumbling, gymnastics, softball, soccer , basketball and piano now. My favorite color is pink. Now to Pete. Peter is 5 and is in preschool..He is in love with Ninjago, he has been in love with Blue's Clues, but he isn't anymore.His favorite colors are Purple, Orange and BYU Blue. Now on to Jacob. He does fencing, and piano. He is 11 and now is in 5th grade. His favorite color is platinum. He has braces too. I am getting a full</div>
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mouth on November 27, 2012. Well, looks like that's all! I'll post pictures later. I'll also do a review of Mom AKA Kris and Dad AKA Nate. </div>
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Hugs! <3 div="div" emma="emma" nbsp="nbsp"><div>
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</3></div>
Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-24858396212580781032011-08-06T12:31:00.003-07:002011-08-06T12:50:20.485-07:00The Go-cart!<span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>Hi everyone! It's Emma! We just got a new go-cart! It's soooooooooooooooo Fun! I lllllllllllooooooooovvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeee it! bye!</i></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span></div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-39374743241609873222011-06-03T14:36:00.008-07:002011-06-03T15:19:40.190-07:00Pete and the World Of ColorHey! It's Emma here! Pete just came running out from his nap and said "Hi mommy. I want to go back to Disneyland and see the World Of Color again."Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-33377161006042415472010-06-24T17:07:00.001-07:002010-06-24T17:07:34.659-07:00Scotland Part 1 (Maybe the one and only part, we’ll see)<p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">I’m sure everyone is on pins and needles waiting for pictures and stories from my trip to Scotland. It was a 10 day trip, so I will mainly hit on the highlights.  I take that back, I am going to begin with the worst part of the trip…the flight.  We flew from Salt Lake to Paris, then Paris to Edinburgh.  I couldn’t sleep on the flight, then the layover in Paris was pretty terrible.  Nate didn’t have “papers” for his insulin pump and no one in security at the airport (in Paris) seemed to know what to do.  It took us 45 min, but we finally were cleared to fly. We had a couple more hours, then we flew to Edinburgh.  By the time we got there it was late afternoon, so we got our car and set out to find the place we were staying.  In this whole process we lost 7 hours and I didn’t sleep on the plane, so basically I was exhausted.  </font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcO0PK5jnh8XpGx5_cZYn1ah3NcszwZP_0SZTtx_noeiNVWozxLDKXLRWZ7rmi5rK7qySainhyhCERMFPp_2hncaoyRgFXpk_Yjx_SpqL_6lPUBSSEJ2iml5PqdaPRfavZJXv7krpKH5o/s1600-h/360%5B11%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="360" border="0" alt="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtqy4dh4XrQAsyUXx_Nlb51Mbt4hAfgUBm6OU32n-TEpZ841XUOUjdH2Y5FksQhWfHYUSk52jcYjbaS8uj55iEpW58WFGzwhtzrSD7CGWuBLwnZVCYmhpC7z_XTe4XJCNwoZDk9K0JrIg/?imgmax=800" width="405" height="311" /></a> </p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">The following day was Saturday and one of the highlights of the trip to Scotland.  We wandered the streets of Edinburgh for part of the day and we saw much of the city.  Toward the end of the day we wandered into the National Gallery of Scotland. We looked at the exhibit they had on dance and explored the main floor, but it was close to the 5 o’clock closing, so we didn’t venture upstairs.  As we were leaving I picked up a brochure.  I opened it and couldn’t believe my eyes.  It said that my absolute favorite painting was on display upstairs. We immediately turned around and headed back upstairs so I could see it.  It is a painting by John Singer-Sargent named “Lady Agnew of Lochnaw.”  In fact, back in the day when I actually considered studying art in college (ha!) I used that painting as one where I imitated an artist’s style.  I couldn’t believe I was actually standing in front of the painting.  It was incredible. </font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXskJMu8Wdwu1mTTnckdl3tyCbAkxprTkpqnLZe9JqR3Ro8s7pXtpgkKKxc6TWqrg3ULux0iDguUKN0fIbgGxRJJfKc_L73hRVSTDIoub7ip39GEfdgNKr-TUuM9DmtcOiorGZIcyh3c8/s1600-h/lady_agnew%5B8%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="lady_agnew" border="0" alt="lady_agnew" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRgN1-xPyqJ6dNIVqBO1bPBTfZrVEPPTSXc3I8mbdEhlZFxSL4Fhcq9bsV9y_0MxOFM5YkobsmBkWjpIA2-ZNovW2oWGuSncUZLTQuokigdRkUNNJVqW1oiVxET0e2tI5WymjqGO63Rw/?imgmax=800" width="404" height="514" /></a></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">I could just start rambling and tell you all the reasons this painting is fantabulous, but I won’t because you’d be bored. Instead you can look at it and if you don’t appreciate it, well, I am afraid you are beyond help.  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Wow, I am super duper long winded.  I guess I can stop for today.  So…..To Be Continued. </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"> </font></p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-50448922706336463722010-05-20T14:19:00.001-07:002010-05-20T14:19:44.225-07:00Oh Baby!<p><font face="DokChampa">Why do babies have to grow up so fast?  Pete turned 3 over the weekend.  To celebrate he went camping with Nate and Jake at the Fathers and Sons campout.  It was his first time camping, and he had a ball. Then on Saturday we had a little family get-together with pizza and cake and ice cream.  </font></p> <p><font face="DokChampa">Pete is such a fun kid. I have the luxury of spending my days with him and I love it. We get to play every day.  I won’t lie, he makes it hard for me to get any real work done around the house. That is okay though, because he is growing up too quickly. </font></p> <p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd62qQmEN4NH7te2ABqrfSU8hYiSZk5G4oN0IPOjYt6iLZunz3babtMeUkALPVGszx9yV3tkEtzUqoUd8qHj0-LxXw-H1aI7IJDz2Uwqopv86EDcUc-saNNPpHT5DbRNMPtjG4xupNDP8/s800/blog photos3.jpg" width="403" height="260" /> </p> <p><font face="DokChampa">Here are some pictures of Pete from when he was born until he was a couple months old. I know that to most people my little 2 1/2 lb baby may look a little alien-ish or whatever, but I think he was adorable and perfect.</font></p> <p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir2YEXsE2ROSTMJcZtX5BQCPjgnttKQyhf9ElF2qRLkHe_l6tPYNjMewSKjkZSq9RwVkk-gJtgCRUg3lyRF8zlKjpNqfcBcAwO2vrOxc3TZtrHBVDVc4uF0TQVy7r-QZSqPUgbNed3cWc/s800/blog photos1.jpg" width="399" height="257" /> </p> <p><font face="DokChampa">These pictures are from his first year. First Halloween, first Christmas, the Bumbo which was a big part of our life. </font></p> <p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT84ocCN13HnhgBEcCBPs-Pq6r_8MaPr6o-uZx4eEiY95SB6SLzuhKFi2n_0F3Cr_WQE9T9j6oqSmGJ5zDAIZQZ8voVGFNo8EgkBqHBeyKDYk1wSLhAJyFRuJh8JY9vS5GKiuI8Eo8P1I/s800/blog photos4.jpg" width="403" height="256" /> </p> <p><font face="DokChampa">He is always entertaining us with his goofy ideas. I’m sure it helps that he has all of us as a very willing audience. </font></p> <p><img style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 5px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBimdv9bJD-VtZTK_7yCBQlx4AqyuH0sgphQJ7oHDSVM6qGmQdN7kuVRRSUTmGoEzai4h-M-GD6-6j_dwVV5IbN8U-24j-4Pcvz-DOhcPPOq7jisscYqdlOIMEx1I9JJ7XsXZKvVQRW38/s720/IMGP4464.JPG" width="387" height="262" /> </p> <p><font face="DokChampa">This is one of my favorite pictures of him. I love his eyes and his cute chubby cheeks.</font></p> <p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKsbrzzQJvduJC_BAcGeSv_wxAuNjWqSEkGxi1F3JIDx8QAt-17iYTLSggKquAaNNkQzyKGTJDWQs27tgCsrDfyz4hW7myDDX2HQdokBqHeWCor4v8m4u13n5RvYKbVmT-gSbSULJohA/s800/blog photos5.jpg" width="398" height="253" /> </p> <p><font face="DokChampa">Like I said before, we spend our days together and as you can see he is oh so very helpful with the tasks such as dishes. Most of the time I love it, except when I am in a hurry :)</font></p> <p><font face="DokChampa"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiks_dOWKmk5URK7KMvq8u3Vu4E55ydVki8anHRO-56VJXqy3Ph-bUUYfry9rgFB51uJEoagbcxX9-sOPQYGQD13fW3pHgBXaHJYHcivQCl-wkWzR3HcIvKk_GZf6lkxNIwsutsb7UD84U/s720/DSC_4782 neg HSL text.jpg" width="399" height="269" /> </font></p> <p><font face="DokChampa">This picture totally captures my happy, sweet Pete. </font></p> <p><font face="DokChampa">There have been several chances recently for me to think about the blessing of being a mom. I remember pretty much the whole time I was growing up my mom had a stitchery hanging in our house. I didn’t comprehend the significance of the words then but, over the last few years I have thought back over those words several times.  It was part of a poem called “Babies Don’t Keep” by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton.  The last stanza says “The cleaning and scrubbing can wait ‘till tomorrow, But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow. So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep! I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.” <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cOkpnWXUDSo9g0V-b7itz2w0cdkUshfuh6rPLaIJn5h_fMyDj9sDalmUnF1fcBkp9372sJcOsCGXuwKif49Lma_ARXk-Thl0ZwGX0w3VYbrGbq-a_SN_g5tzfV7JpA6CusiCX6QxqnA/s720/DSC_4660 Hbw.jpg" width="396" height="267" /></font></p> <p><font face="DokChampa">There have been so many times over the last 3 years I’ve wished I could make time stand still. But my babies keep growing in spite of my yearning for them to stop. How do you ever capture enough moments? </font></p> <p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdssenopKYjoT3pwWYj23naq3jy8_MGNUHhiMgTb3vXUk0Ho7MbqCtQITE-quNaC0TLlKN0OCAXFxHIncHbyGuXuhOcK-9jY_RoJnomNxHkwgiUVC4RARPN2-T2ts7IZWZQhld8ZjkXs/s720/DSC_4679 gmbw.jpg" width="403" height="269" /> </p> <p><font face="DokChampa">I am so grateful for the opportunity I have to be a Mom. It is one of the hardest jobs, but nothing could make me happier.  </font></p> <p><font face="DokChampa">Happy Birthday Pete!  I love you!</font></p> <p><font face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font face="DokChampa"> </font></p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-69164380347709442612010-05-06T19:08:00.001-07:002010-05-06T19:08:44.867-07:00It’s About Time<p><font face="Calibri"> Okay folks.  I know, it is about time for my once-a-quarter blog post. <em> </em>Here is the deal.   I know that last time I blogged I was sad because I couldn’t find the cable to my camera.  Well, the lucky woman that I am, hubby got me a new one!  Guess what…can’t find it.  I KNOW!!  Can you believe it!?!  Being the organizationally-challenged individual that I am I have now lost 2 cables in the last 4 months.  </font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">It wouldn’t be so bad except we went to Disneyland and all the pictures from Disneyland are on the camera to which the cable is missing.  I am really pretty bugged, if in fact you couldn’t tell.  So, the Disneyland post will have to wait.  On to other things. </font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">I have a friend named Julie.  I have been friends with Julie since high school.  In fact, I think I survived high school because of Julie.  Julie and I went to different universities, we lived hours away at times and there have been large breaks between us talking, but it never fails to amaze me, when we get together it is like no time has passed at all.  We just get each other, you know?  No pretense, no watching what we say, afraid we might offend.  It is just easy.  </font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">Lately I have missed Julie.  I have called her a few times when I have been thinking about her, and frankly it has been times when we have both really needed to talk.  We finally found a chance to get together and had a great time. </font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">Not only did we get together, but our youngest boys played for the first time (that they would remember) and they loved it.  They were hilarious together.  </font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">We went to Farm Country at Thanksgiving Point.  My sissies and Mom came too.  Yes, the triplets were there!  It was so fun.  It was a perfect day.  The only problem is that perfect days end too.  </font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">I really hope I don’t let so much time and so many missed opportunities pass before I see my friend again.  Seeing her made my heart happy. </font></p> <p> <font face="Calibri"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="242" border="0" alt="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitUTR4Rgn9Nn0zqPjJHtEu9Tq75cBtWYitxKf4yr3AqJDBXWyu8vsbkIlqyMUyhnYVi6zseBNCQwbojpIKQJec3tfbM1fWosibCsJ0PZ9eZTDFXTsjgNANNCddUxmZznFNA2vtanuy78Y/?imgmax=800" width="397" height="270" /></font></p> <p align="center"><font face="Calibri"> Pete showing us the pony.</font></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCiKhua5yp1hoAm0dJN10RfEnHhJ4DYmXp_4BMWh7kQ_J8SbNmSvRplK-ijVLnmH-IlzWlub_ocgZFsxlKa_tPab71s8Fy9iMwH7wElnfssNslFUZ4xFdZ9SpWCCfNZGy6dQhUebFLzXw/s1600-h/251%5B11%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 75px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="251" border="0" alt="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDU-ZzE9rT7nG4HHZaoNo4_8b6A4A4CIa0QxJRkkyDOt35LAOcEwd4_zFO1lqnX8iuT6zvYSJta-EMcW32UsNI2vv5n1XiqFVsweluPeTih0L7qg-flmhplTZLSDgYjJvAsi2jbqJAfmM/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="356" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font face="Calibri">Pete and Julie’s son Porter</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-cGxR8T_PSNB8QH2dLyKa9WqusO7X61QaUk2l1oeMJzKZqx70Le_alsy1mWK2g7w6kMXelNBCxczj5HCSSFzJMP81_JG9rzzU-R3esYT5DIqoqa68HrHVmCrFSw_d9FqE9V4E1n05eRQ/s1600-h/272%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="272" border="0" alt="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKy-D5sCWfZBT_0a2cF-k_Equ1dLyVwpbDIN0G7vSTmAhSAOokw1-C3UMuTMcFnu88Ns5vOv-OQizPmfX8FinDsTG0iLNmCwuQMXWIKKyaJ4lKUn9Q58lc0zxUZz5iBP6Rl5sApiJ4cE/?imgmax=800" width="399" height="274" /></a></p> <p align="center"> <font face="Calibri">Maddie, one of Ju’s triplets</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48SFvN7WIB8BxnEDJM70r4Dlkfjdpa8vBcCVtARxWeqpg9eznGGwjs93vjzEBto9cmHyNJbrNXZJDn4Ah2Ur3NzZt1ZbWs2WjSEQWOP-ztOXWI8iNfXlsVlfwzgQ-tHT863u0jBBPtZw/s1600-h/280%5B18%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="280" border="0" alt="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVPy5oxf_6yV6IvA1gTDxduZGudrGzElpp7L5C-0VIPt-0TPOTRrSX2CNhIxZotosajoLOkN4-EOBNbpWexgGGFhRxw5PTHJfYa2gAzN73NHHeUUDhXjdrUhQTe7LupJCT7ulHy_PZvwE/?imgmax=800" width="397" height="295" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font face="Calibri">Molly,  another of the triplets</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjEYlb-WhyefR-wf6e-fS_ytl8FKFXdj6rTQvfZFxY5_nMXMH5L4tWRVA_aqqjgNfpxU-0Oiyv3xi3PkvYjeqHBQqdE1UZzAbXOTNpehRuxTjwY1jlAj65zXyXPF9-LNwqtXDhWeQYbo/s1600-h/299%5B10%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="299" border="0" alt="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxkhBv2iO6LuO4D4_83q9QqRkQ53rMKsA4BzmrTRn8Nf4uQtR2JTxLbnzx0qUDq4TpEiXJ8Zba7kh3rPMsJ376pU-fjBxgzNJUmpu1qlo2wQ-c1BkAaHW97as_-dBI3ofiUFPYOFum2U/?imgmax=800" width="398" height="280" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font face="Calibri">Hunter, the last of the triplets</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpmLhwQ-i_C_OptsgNqcnjCZAHPg1Zt6rfkadDwooGT1DhIZjWSmpoRD19vZQHDcEbCJFY2aQxDs00FUe3fYhOcQFip7zjSQGHEbKRX30HUEhbVCaHqWYoFf5LKt9ZwCT60ghasoNU1s/s1600-h/240%5B11%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="240" border="0" alt="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi55-yzw6_adJqqUMiAaJW3NyvYguGWLbr9fw6SREtQsryIehgm2UIHWArzIvp08vdxX5ZaedGC_-71Ag2Kjy5OeRzl1g3yQzZUsS-6o06gFO7MxPnuQ3lg4C0z80j9X4oOIU7z2Sgm-3c/?imgmax=800" width="400" height="272" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font face="Calibri">Pete and Nat’s son McCoy looking at the horses</font></p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-85921865852358764492010-03-24T13:49:00.001-07:002010-03-24T13:49:51.574-07:00Nate’s Truck<p><font face="Calibri">About a week and a half ago I was waiting for Nate to get home from work. He was taking a long time.  I figured he was stuck in traffic. Then I  got a call. It went something like this:</font></p> <blockquote> <p><font face="Calibri">Nate:  “Kris, I got in an accident, I am almost done with the police. Can you come and get me?”</font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">Me:  “Wait. What? You were in an accident? Are you okay? Where are you?”</font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">Nate: “I am okay. I am just down the highway, not far. You’ll see the emergency vehicles. I’ll watch for you. Bye.”</font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">Click.</font></p> </blockquote> <p><font face="Calibri">That is my husband, a man of few words. </font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">He was headed south on 89 right by the Jefferson Center and someone who had been headed north turned left into him.</font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">His airbag went off.  His left arm got hurt somehow. His neck and back have been hurting.  As a result my heart has been hurting.  </font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">Nate never complains. Not about being stressed or that he doesn’t feel well. He never lets me dote over him, even when he is sick in bed.  Now I know he hurts and I don’t know how to help.</font></p> <p><img style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 10px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWItXOjNbsOhuasmJrhRr06SU5_B14v6AZE5u5LoK-jyj5AsSP7owQuYZJnQ8q_eeyBDrdx69PBEOa6Egg2V2EfQ26qXWHrHqG3_Yb-soCQJYX4xmDZjOHiDL0Rhl0cRmNpTUvQK4Y7y4/s640/IMG00005-20100315-0921.jpg" width="378" height="286" /> </p> <p><img style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 10px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGB76kgAvrKuSWXnl688m5OSqffy5p5KuMTXzBZll-Pn3RTvnfdYRtC_lJjVeRoocRU-_tScDxWwLkoV8PZo4F9eMMSb1kV-6GojmrptuEwiQ8ur64QJMElNBlilnu0sIbrw6bCl1eBnc/s640/IMG00006-20100315-0921.jpg" width="376" height="288" /> </p> <p><font face="Calibri">The truck was totaled. That made Nate sad.  He liked his truck.  Those of you who know him well are thinking he would revel the chance to buy a new car. He would, but he is busy and he is facing not having a car until he finds one. Once they paid us for the truck they took away the rental. His process usually involves looking and thinking about it for a while before he takes the plunge.</font></p> <p><font face="Calibri">The wreck reminded me of something I shouldn’t ever have to be reminded of.  I love Nate so incredibly much. My life would be nothing without him in it.  Since the accident I have spent much more time thanking my Father in Heaven for Nate, and that he was not injured any worse in the accident. I love you Nate.</font></p> <p><img style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 5px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6czI3oYIjFa2yEy2WKi8hRf9EKLHypXlSoWR3OCSkw3GCpYSn1uu9OmDj5p0P-gqpjt3VOsZtAb5Wb7d-YGg94PiPJEqXw8rzbPrtvcqBGaM8eu7lZzYZg4v6g5dMhZrIzgHGbUQTfg/s640/IMG00007-20100315-0921.jpg" width="389" height="293" /> </p> <p><font face="Calibri">Oh, and icing on the cake was the $700 we spent on the tires the day before. Nice.</font></p> <p><font face="Calibri"></font></p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-11510909500472064222010-02-23T16:51:00.001-07:002010-02-23T16:57:17.494-07:00Another Reason I’ll Keep Him<p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Here’s the thing.  I am not a good gift picker-outer.  I always try and think of something marvelous for my honey, but alas, gift picking-out is definitely not one of my talents.  Nate on the other hand is a pro.  He is always finding the most fantastic gifts ever.  Which, of course, makes me feel terrible when I give him whatever is my pathetic gift.  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Not only can I not pick out gifts, I can not keep them secret.  This is not because I spill the beans, but I am just not sneaky enough.  Case in point.  One year I thought I was oh so sneaky.  I was giving him a futon for his office.  So, I had my parents purchase it and keep it at their place until right before Christmas, when, while we were away one night, my sister and her husband moved it into the back of our basement. So, Christmas morning comes and Nate has gotten a curio for me.  It was beautiful.  I then escorted Nate downstairs to show him his gift.  He started laughing.  Apparently when my sister and her husband had put the futon in the basement they leaned it right up against the curio.  So, when Nate had gone to get the curio, he subsequently saw his gift.  NOT SNEAKY.  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">This past Valentine’s Day was no exception.  Nate got a new keyboard for my computer because a certain unnamed kidlet has wreaked havoc on mine.  He also did this for me.  </font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9oz7GFHeLp7PHCmDsg4qyukTwd2CtdbuDsxvA1FBrrVOMZsNVYDvCa13gjrAgBja4TKDF1xCEQewsSUXlTib_-Aco3tvmQqJZ7IXpUh3ENzEnZcTSRcc68EUr11VRdLUPH4pf0XhNlU/s1600-h/1098%5B7%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 75px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1098" border="0" alt="1098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB8sSRebte6fDQLjW_HbRmwj9kAsNuerYiMGs54D5y7Luo3cU8dkUuut0DaCEJptxIKcC3iPVws_xt5VAMpgFRZUnCfQJ0xg6lwx7WZH5ffKEJu5xgSvFG5MdqOBqa7UumGGsdlKzLq9M/?imgmax=800" width="229" height="302" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Xr6s2ZAUZBtMo4YYrTV_xoVRrSRUVeH86-hOzeuTjGV9E1IgcOdVJ53aVa9nMusoMIxB-L-2yvvHJ520JC4rvR4FieRQvzGhXeZaW-wlq9TIW40pW-mq92Q7cj8zP_UBWS4zut_gal0/s1600-h/1100%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1100" border="0" alt="1100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTCPItgM7vp2Kw85rUa6HrLuqOxT9yNtUMcaScTenMKUWzCnDFEsEkbhnGrwFw6rCMlR_la2_Vm2jNDxO651wNMvXu7XWX_2o71-_aHUPbZr2AaPQcJihCvxR18Gw0Ut-_3o2wmGP57I/?imgmax=800" width="315" height="239" /></a> </p> <p>                      <font size="1" face="DokChampa">Think we have enough hot cocoa or cereal?  Me either. </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Being organizationally challenged as I am, this pantry has been the bane of my existence.  He made me shelf/drawers.  Rolling shelves?  I don’t know what to call them but they are marvelous!  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">I am the room mother for Em’s class, and frankly whoever thought that I would be a good candidate for that was not in their right mind.  So, by the time I was done with the whole V-day party for her class I was done done.  I did get him a windshield washer thingy that they sell on TV, but I got it at Walgreen’s (pronounced Walgrins by most around here).  So, pretty much a great big FAIL on my part.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Which continues the saga of Nate=awesome gifts, Kris=lame gifts.  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">  </font></p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-9461249198322151742010-01-25T14:37:00.001-07:002010-01-25T14:37:22.681-07:00Christmas and Birthdays Wrap Up<p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Here is the deal.  I have yet to find the cord to hook up my camera to my computer.  I know everyone is thinking, “Why didn’t you just use your computer’s card reader?”  The thing is that the card in my camera doesn’t fit in my card reader.  I know this because I got it stuck in my computer once.  When it didn’t seem to click in right I thought sticking it in further with my nails would help.  It didn’t.  Don’t do that.  So, luckily I am married to a very computer savvy man (surprise) and he was able to retrieve it.  Point of the story, I can’t get the pictures off my camera yet. </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">I have a few pictures on my other camera that I will share with you.  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">First was my birthday.  No pics.  Sorry.  Maybe there will be some later. </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Then Christmas.  I only have a few pictures and because of the early morning nature of present opening, I am hesitant to share any with you.  There is one that is moderately acceptable.  Here you go. </font></p> <p><img style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 90px" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ebi2LclhUvw/S14IRBI0C7E/AAAAAAAAAz8/a4nPDn8PBPc/s144-c/20091225.jpg" width="185" height="185" /> </p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Nate’s Birthday.  It is always hard to figure out how to celebrate Nate’s birthday. The whole ‘New Year’s Eve’ thing gets in the way.  We did try to go to a Thai restaurant, but they closed early.  Weird.  So, we found somewhere else to eat and then went home and had pie.  Yes, he gets birthday pie.  He even orders it himself.  This is not because I won’t make a cake, he prefers pie.  Pie from the bakery down the street.  If it makes him happy I will not complain. </font></p> <p> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Tm6yfp_834dBYmoVNw1wG-mAxZeAtCCJBQPA6TRob_fvw7At_N8LR0RaLcuBjYSCtbMAE_9tisyXx9C5xysWVqYRkU52L7Ri-GiA5G_4Mhatp4U41Or3AJHh1Rdsv0KovWAjVfmzQ40/s720/IMGP5352.JPG" width="401" height="268" /> </p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">We celebrated J’s birthday and E’s birthday on their actual birthdays at home with cake and ice cream and then on the Saturday between by going to ‘the diver place’ (the Mayan) with Grandma and Grandpa McGuire.  A fun time was had by all.  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"><img style="margin: 0px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqETuUZgK6My8DfcZlt-bGkHcdGoYvJxNJ57__DAJdhz5kZmvSSjINhpG5fd2DNv5alr9SWBtdKQuibDurh_717ODE0ULCAl1Fq2E1krnklBCRhzFbeG9kELZ_Pc-JaNLo2nJyiHx1Btg/s800/IMGP5363.JPG" width="401" height="257" /> </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"> </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">  <font size="3" face="DokChampa"><img style="margin: 0px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARJMhqpVfPqs_26540TY6C8LdQrJsIsiZi-eXPWa70AgCCXNGMOZHZQ-_85o-3XVA_T6z0mSDpBJAFaJbvOO7hm_XJ0Q11PS83Yt2VA0kWk0fQxYcR4h_mbw7k156l3mlMeg6eQjW7nA/s720/IMGP5356.JPG" width="401" height="275" /></font></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PJMy5nbST7oUvKy5m5f4x04FVO67HwSX_MV2PA2DA6EpzkJ9pMSuJd5nGbjVPN90qfmc5AF0s5d8Jhe7o_xSOCjfIHl9eK3C3v7mtltsZZoInYElP8bg0m7dLpe5Srzh7JvRr_3UA1s/s720/IMGP5381.JPG" width="401" height="281" /></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><img style="display: inline; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px" align="left" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNMDn0YwtcOhDcQd-LaE_1KZCp6gQ53QyU-51kQMXexFfrJdSWtvyCCupplDiBKwmFcd9Ze4_5ksKv2YDpY0s587twRpcMXWZU4fnKzSrWzPBjZhPxdYXE1Zlk_CyTDWdkNu9r58Oor30/s720/IMGP5408.JPG" width="401" height="277" /><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p> </p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sC299IujXkpWrm0FaWL28CeATPetOxajfVgGa6IJLc4hA9OV88l-aDYNXmhKrc_U4QnFq9Gi4zDczq0tsrc7aP1dP2wQkCRKtYksL3XlS-EPpQsQoyuaZlUV-VXdsW4fuTpjhx6v5GM/s720/IMGP5383.JPG" width="401" height="274" /></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Whew.  There.  And now I shall sleep. Don’t wake me. </font></p> <p> </p> <p><font size="3" face="Calibri"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Calibri"> </font></p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-29041720984148809212009-12-25T21:27:00.001-07:002009-12-25T21:27:13.018-07:00Always Late<p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">Every Christmas I try so hard to get a start on things early.  It just isn’t my nature to be overly prepared for anything.  So, every year I decide to get things taken care of early so I can enjoy the season.  Every year Christmas comes and I am kicking myself for the things I didn’t get done the way I had wanted.  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">So, here’s the story this year.  Those of you beloved friends and family who have yet to receive a Christmas card.  They are in the mail.  Yes, they were just dropped tonight, but they are technically “in the mail.”  I did get pictures done in the fall so they would have beautiful colors and be ready for Christmas cards.  No, I didn’t get on top of the whole card thing until like a week ago.  Lame.  I make myself so mad.  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">I do have a fun Christmas post coming, but in the chaos of my home post-present opening, I seem to have misplaced the cord to my camera.  It has been a wonderful day, and I am super-duper excited to post the video of Pete.  He was so dang cute this morning.  I, on the other hand did not look so cute, so there may not be any pictures of how beautiful I look on Christmas morning.  I know, you are all very disappointed.  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="DokChampa">I hope everyone had a great Christmas.  Remember I love you, and to prove it, the card is in the mail.  Or, because I am an airhead you can tell me if I forgot. </font></p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-91216005329237044592009-12-18T11:53:00.001-07:002009-12-18T11:53:14.457-07:00‘New Moon’<p><font size="4" face="Jodis hand">My friend Jaime rocks for a million-bazillion reasons, but lately there was one particular thing that she did that stood out.  She got us tickets to an advanced showing of New Moon.  So, a bunch of us girls went together on Nov. 19th (Thursday, that’s right, booyah) to see the movie.  We got there extra early so we could sit together which apparently isn’t important when the theater is reserved.   We felt kind of silly sitting there an hour and a half before the movie started with hardly anyone else in the theater.  It was okay though because it was good company.  We talked and laughed and our butts already hurt before the movie even started.  I took some pretty rad pictures, but I don’t know if the girls are going to kill me for posting them. </font></p> <p><font size="4" face="Jodis hand">That is actually the main purpose for this post, seeing as I saw the movie a month ago, but only found the cord and downloaded the pictures now.  Now, I am putting it out there for all of you to see what a goof I am. No teasing.   </font></p> <p><img style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 30px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikZKqmH2oqm7gEAwLkUjMOKzUVfkBvVvtfaDplGBDVPjNOJdaMSIzNWX_fdoihSUQpLzjCsNqi2YQcj-0gpMurF89GKHgJ0R2I9iXIKoV46799Nbm_Pw4h-3gU6U4ZCHzDmgfs4QHgICo/s640/007.JPG" width="335" height="252" /><font size="4" face="Jodis hand"></font></p> <p><font size="4" face="Jodis hand">This is Becky, Jaime, and me.  Apparently when I hold the camera AND take the pictures I get crazy eyes.  I know this now because I have crazy eyes in every picture where I am holding the camera.  Of course, my friends look lovely.  On account of the crazy eyes, I handed my camera to Jaime to take pictures.  Here is what we got.  Notice, no crazy eyes. <img style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 15px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9icHAyKmRKu1BiZ_7r_Hvbdw0RWoJFpO0n6kDXi5_Wvs_fguIYNzwVIzSPZ0UhoJKRp-WJSb0hfYdNJ2botLQHMHXaB1sih7yMQYmndYeBW3RxtAI6hsRtG5z7nYUrlBsK__SxYItljg/s640/009.JPG" width="354" height="267" /> </font></p> <p><font size="4" face="Jodis hand">A Jaime centric photo.  This does in no way reflect her personality, I assure you. </font></p> <p><img style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 10px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstVO06vAEmJtl1IbTooMHqGQw-iJyjYXRuffjZwhp9U5MNFqeZCbdszUwlwqU-n2T4wyyNuPknrRxDFEjw6G7t9hV6m9_3T4iJQBV7XUotTKbC-M63Y2aD09cegv2GcdlBNH8NWeuaqE/s640/010.JPG" width="375" height="282" /> </p> <p><font size="4" face="Jodis hand">After several tries we all got in the photo. Jaime was not pleased with the way she looks while holding the camera, Becky looks a little tipsy, and I was practically sitting on Jaime to get into the picture.  But, no crazy eyes, mostly. </font></p> <p><font size="4" face="Jodis hand">These are pictures we took while the others were getting their snacks, etc.  My lens had a fingerprint on it when  we took pics of the whole group of us, so I will have to see what I can do about that and post later. </font></p> <p><font size="4" face="Jodis hand">The movie was good.  I have to remind myself that it will never be as good as the book, so take it easy on the criticism.  Things like, I thought Jacob’s house would be light yellow.  I don’t know if it says that in the book or if that is something I made up in my head, but having it be red was a little disappointing.  Little things like that always bug me when they make a book into a movie. </font></p> <p><font size="4" face="Jodis hand">So, all you Twilight fans, its some good fun, and Jacob’s not too bad to look at for a couple hours regardless.  </font></p> <p><font size="4" face="Jodis hand"> </font></p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-90949892635418685452009-12-04T09:47:00.001-07:002009-12-04T09:47:42.455-07:00Hair<p>So, it happened.  I always knew in the back of my mind it would.  I tried for years to dissuade her.  I thought the years where I would worry about it were coming to an end. Then it happened.  She cut her hair!  I had often told her, as a good mother should, that if she cut her own hair it would make her ugly.  Now that I think about it, that may not have been the best approach.   </p> <p>When I saw her and what had been done I could actually physically feel the anger heating up my chest.  I knew in that moment I had better just not talk about it then.  I very calmly called the mother of my daughter’s partner-in-crime and we talked about it.  <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXw7cRKAO8L5j60t_A4Ub9OD_b4vtb8SLf2F7gjG7ollHWn75UE6zzvBGQSJx6UzNhtmZVDBdATDuq8qoxG0cwFzcRS-KlxNr8uXCVn-Q8Q5JXozWpHMfXuGv7fSnauAE9QgSz5g8BiA/s1600-h/082%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 25px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="082" border="0" alt="082" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6hyJt1FQx2x4aFn8ehnvkkQ-jw-MI4RFScXbb7_VYn7mOClRRQH2phKDXoBe4SLJ5BVZskO1c0bFl-lIBuCJ1LBS6B4hjLzY8oLEQQcZbDQXANdBfykPDmlON7qRXWDbryzKVqhzj9U/?imgmax=800" width="354" height="269" /></a></p> <p>I guess today will be another haircut.  Her usual stylist is booked out through January, so unless I can persuade her with my desperation, I have no idea what we are going to do.    I will hopefully have pictures to post of the new haircut soon.  </p> <p>Opinions please.  Should I let her keep bangs, or make her grow them out?  I will not tell you my opinion in hopes of getting honest answers.  </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8N-M9tLBfOmYKrnSkxnZjrn4szO_yT194nDEHDiK6bA9ILT64Fi4Nt0h0vfn_Z2MB1JCOP7NmOHMqvdz9sDcvoxXvejsExrzYDuXCSiUvFcCL31Pf7rIMZgzjmNkfUaU-aQ3TGq9eRM/s1600-h/DSC00013%5B35%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 30px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="DSC00013" border="0" alt="DSC00013" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7P8Fmo0JO96ORUyO-F-PWQJp8m8ATfUdBn8wwodJTtTzK1mwQn1RuyGuejSCmGrIbnhhvlpYXCN3GisA0RVFMM_DJopuH9kWEz_vN5KrJaBzdzxzJJL83-O55rJiH_bEnJet4A3uOdc/?imgmax=800" width="334" height="368" /></a> </p> <p>Gettin’ on my game face for a call to the stylist now.  </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUZisULfopqMdA33D7Dxjs0NTPu7Qwx_JE0jqiy-sZS7oTJ2qbSNCxN-xD8rDqGIRNysznFMFCPNx0iBWWJL4LEVEIGilg3Pi28vxpNfZ8Ce3vDS2YuG_1NxA6V8_2jNmMeBfgoNe3dJ8/s1600-h/DSC_4614%20HSL%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 5px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="DSC_4614 HSL" border="0" alt="DSC_4614 HSL" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDkSByAINAzbwWCbXshz8ss0D_1CT00m-OWiBkxR3yOLzKgb_qVT9lvHbmWVub1murJHODQPlXux29_JFjAYiB0UKGVw6zrqKO214tsLnvP5OCpuvA4vSooGCfua_RJR4HgBiEGmqpEj4/?imgmax=800" width="399" height="270" /></a>  While I am at it, I can’t help but put up one of the beautiful pictures <a href="http://hayleebeanphotography.squarespace.com/">Haylee</a> did.  </p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-77894546413699233952009-10-29T10:00:00.002-07:002009-11-02T13:09:34.626-07:00Big boy…not so much.<p><font face="SF-Karens"></font></p> <p><font size="4" face="SF-Karens">Today as I got ready to take the kids to school I pulled out one of Jake’s hand-me-down coats for Pete.  As I put the coat on Pete I was met with a flood of memories of Jake in that coat.  The main one being, that is the coat I sent Jake to preschool in. </font></p> <p><font size="4" face="SF-Karens">The significance of this is in the fact it (mostly) fits Pete.  Days after Jake turned 3 I put him on a school bus that stopped outside our townhome and sent him away for half the day to preschool.  My perspective was different then.  Jake seemed so big to me.  As I look at Pete in the coat I know he is still so young, and though Jake was 7 months older than Pete is now, he was too. </font><font size="4" face="SF-Karens">  </font></p> <p><font size="4" face="SF-Karens">With Jake’s vision issues I know it was the right choice to send him to preschool where he was getting more time with therapists.  But as I look at Pete in his coat I think, Jake had to grow up pretty darn fast.  <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCzd6zSksAF6VPB2WqjVtQwNXxRF3mIcti-KJX5g8e7PE_yy8hJZzCICvPh7YVNkkbStauk-jOYoz2reNq6cf7HZZfFJZjjBV6w7i_KpCSECkD47shtILpKb5BYE2FlpnGSu80YBOO80g/s1600-h/Picture_0053104%20009%5B27%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px 15px 0px 45px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="Picture_0053104 009" border="0" alt="Picture_0053104 009" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ebi2LclhUvw/Su88awVoWYI/AAAAAAAAAlw/nrsa4eDGO98/Picture_0053104%20009_thumb%5B25%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="306" height="392" /></a> </font></p> <p><font size="4" face="SF-Karens">This is Jake getting off the bus on the last day of preschool before summer break 2004.  He turned 3 in January  and this is May.  </font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiagOHy4uql8ZAnHtFyHD4eXXTliD6p445qUxEh7Q9n7f9d_pBk1_Pa69vHrSlgjAF0_3ezXSSvw88v8yfJIHOF9-yYB5lxI6JaSMe32vXhaUab16s8Ej8XAjOEO7M52T5EXkEvy0kDx8k/s1600-h/Picture_0053104%20027%5B9%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 45px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="Picture_0053104 027" border="0" alt="Picture_0053104 027" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCqaXo-30GcuExNZi9g6eTELGT_K5klzR2dZ_DRftlHgQM2vaE26lrzlMbydLOPsN3ImZ1zFxcHj0uOQceeEPFZsw9f9T4Yc_pHKEswVZYAuBZe4fr67vdKuKiVzKp8GmCuIhKxhCUhq0/?imgmax=800" width="306" height="434" /></a><font size="4" face="SF-Karens"></font></p> <p><font size="4" face="SF-Karens">One of my favorite pictures of Jake when he was little.   </font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkcGUSXrkzt5b_t3JDAHZNv9CbSgbNPsyoJ0LS0dLCjHnuPQn4g3lB1aFJ-yjxsEXyuP4-T8fQDWUwIf0wqxfvpmlPoRoj24vudNpMk4WUM9GOYFwshrDwIGREdt78zhfUfN05vQiAKQ/s1600-h/Picture14%5B14%5D.jpg"></a><font size="4" face="SF-Karens"></font></p> <p><font size="4" face="SF-Karens">I miss the time with my little Jake.  He is turning 9 in January and I can’t help but think the time when it isn’t cool to kiss his Mom goodbye anymore, or tell me how his day was or even talk to me outside of grunting will soon be here.  <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggwS_ycirC4DUXhCx0NDUuulTvVLoFMzUI6RYrtzEjdy0b4ALKvgI2MLR8i9DLiJJDqKaK_RstuWdhugtiyukRcl8s9726ILlac_t7zwKtjkntUCEFZOWKlPgI73bv76pOwFzOwhY8Rmw/s1600-h/Picture14%5B27%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 15px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="Picture14" border="0" alt="Picture14" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0z4qv3yWUwr2OaiGZzBqeg1Uq85hzwu9mhOA7BlHwAWOOc8HyjXrmi6LEkhwvgZaFmVoD99wAlhDWP-29f2tP74VEOlsjUIApAC-kXiWYl-1sldGgwI6qjuf44h6PLQFOENy7TO4SOVg/?imgmax=800" width="370" height="283" /></a></font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiagOHy4uql8ZAnHtFyHD4eXXTliD6p445qUxEh7Q9n7f9d_pBk1_Pa69vHrSlgjAF0_3ezXSSvw88v8yfJIHOF9-yYB5lxI6JaSMe32vXhaUab16s8Ej8XAjOEO7M52T5EXkEvy0kDx8k/s1600-h/Picture_0053104%20027%5B9%5D.jpg"></a></p> <p><font size="4" face="SF-Karens">He is my first baby.  He is the one who taught me what it meant to be a mother.  He was the first one I felt that motherly instinct,  where I would do ANYTHING for him.  Walk through fire so he doesn’t get stung by a bee, you bet.  That kind of skewed logic that you never understand until you experience it.  I love him so much.  And even when he doesn’t want me to tell him that every single day, when he leaves, when he comes home, when he goes to bed, when he gets up, just when we are sitting near each other,  I will still tell him.  I love you Bubs.   </font> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nNHLih31zOvXIRl_6D5JgfkRDPURw2q37yoOT-k9jpRx0RqUk8qL9u4BdV1XwjIN4PXqE2yKuuzugfYhTthiyyY5x5F9fqTf5BIrj3kyBjwELfkN3ikPAWWW7-fmmH_v9GXVsyQdUTk/s1600-h/Jake%202008-09%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 45px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="Jake 2008-09" border="0" alt="Jake 2008-09" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlEv66nj39ZnIcEiCqcLCG9MmXogMAf9dr0BsvJWNQ9_4DC7OHuv-DPPIEw82yVGHMIS6Ka93iJzKrpsVI6dJwiQH35KjGniXg-eRWrC6cpcQfuj6svRxPWdS_GpvxP1kgft6WKlAsX-I/?imgmax=800" width="312" height="385" /></a></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nNHLih31zOvXIRl_6D5JgfkRDPURw2q37yoOT-k9jpRx0RqUk8qL9u4BdV1XwjIN4PXqE2yKuuzugfYhTthiyyY5x5F9fqTf5BIrj3kyBjwELfkN3ikPAWWW7-fmmH_v9GXVsyQdUTk/s1600-h/Jake%202008-09%5B4%5D.jpg"> </a></p> Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-54308611021017009112009-10-07T11:19:00.012-07:002009-10-07T14:15:07.607-07:00Hawaii<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJOFFRzXFS7cblcCGUt7OwNvSkVr8vd2hE2Q_gneOxpFH1xkm3Mv0zAMKyMu3MvF3ntKZx_taPMAV2FA1towcTnPc4oGnRGjkVAwykgFRzJvKjDzCshrfjgtV2Wrg583_8FHcuVfoJVg/s1600-h/294.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJOFFRzXFS7cblcCGUt7OwNvSkVr8vd2hE2Q_gneOxpFH1xkm3Mv0zAMKyMu3MvF3ntKZx_taPMAV2FA1towcTnPc4oGnRGjkVAwykgFRzJvKjDzCshrfjgtV2Wrg583_8FHcuVfoJVg/s400/294.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389946904030508850" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nate and I took a vacation! I know you are in shock. Just pick yourself up off the floor and you can read about our grand adventure. Okay, that may be overstating it a little.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />Nate's Dad talked Nate into going to Hawaii with them. See, it doesn't take much talking for me to go on vacation, but I like to. Nate on the other hand is a home-body. So, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Nate's Dad had been successful.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />We flew into Honolulu on a Tuesday afternoon. We were suffering greatly from jet-lag, so this day was basically shot. We went and walked around near our hotel, and then got some "dinner" even though it was only 4:00.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next day we drove up north to the Polynesian Cultural Center. It was a great day except for one slight mishap. Our first stop was to visit the New Zealand village. There we played a game with sticks. Apparently, I am not very good at throwing a stick at the same time I am supposed to be catching one with the other hand. So, instead, the stick hit me right in the eye. I guess in a way, I caught the stick with my face instead of my hand.</span><br /><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91ErTYy6SEpuu8yit1UmYYkK4eq6EirwDQxRnNK6-72mJeWjVzQWtdQfaEMScp5QcB66Oq1Tr9gqc9Ahi-g9i5WipO9RtjEwJCuXYF_0TMY1JnaMG7Ty_0c9-enfx-ZZtUDXgYJTk-kU/s1600-h/519+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91ErTYy6SEpuu8yit1UmYYkK4eq6EirwDQxRnNK6-72mJeWjVzQWtdQfaEMScp5QcB66Oq1Tr9gqc9Ahi-g9i5WipO9RtjEwJCuXYF_0TMY1JnaMG7Ty_0c9-enfx-ZZtUDXgYJTk-kU/s400/519+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389966969324300610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next day we visited the Pearl Harbor Exhibits. I found it very impressive, but really heavy stuff overall. That is why I chose this picture to show. It was very interesting, but definitely no reason to be smiling. It is me and Nate's mom, Marilee.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgafH4vM5hOIy9EgaS5RnyWnp5trXhIbNIQbGvDM04lKwpkBLcVKVMApsmzCCiVGtnAcTjKQGZoOnTPfDt136xwNGIFVNUIEibPCQBuOPrQCt6LOPRigd40OvhywhzqNzBWtcU7L5g3gwc/s1600-h/137+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgafH4vM5hOIy9EgaS5RnyWnp5trXhIbNIQbGvDM04lKwpkBLcVKVMApsmzCCiVGtnAcTjKQGZoOnTPfDt136xwNGIFVNUIEibPCQBuOPrQCt6LOPRigd40OvhywhzqNzBWtcU7L5g3gwc/s400/137+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389941592404071314" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">We flew to Kauai that evening. Kauai is beautiful. We spent most of the time going to see the beautiful scenery on the island. We visited the Tropical Botanical Gardens, several waterfalls, Spouting Horn, Waimeia Canyon, and several beaches.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">We went to see a lighthouse and from that one you could see another in the distance. It was all just very breathtaking. (Oh, and for my Dad and brothers, there is a golf course right up the cliff here. It was a beautiful location.)</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68ZWLJ76wuoNGSfZmLC1dSlbCGdSeIxPIHIr2FMS5qWBQy3Aqes70u4DyBv0_-KogjeANOVqgGu3oQZGZSJWxV7futC-jWqppnmJd8ys2pr6qgipRDwDgG1yP32ISfYG7aJ8qfNc8KAg/s1600-h/100_1491.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68ZWLJ76wuoNGSfZmLC1dSlbCGdSeIxPIHIr2FMS5qWBQy3Aqes70u4DyBv0_-KogjeANOVqgGu3oQZGZSJWxV7futC-jWqppnmJd8ys2pr6qgipRDwDgG1yP32ISfYG7aJ8qfNc8KAg/s400/100_1491.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389966407963208466" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another photo from the same spot. We went looking in tide pools for little fish and other sea-life I cannot identify. Isn't Nate being friendly - a wave AND a smile.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGyBaPjywwXk-mwW1abh8VALUYtb2LNx0NvZJpjFkXpRraRUle2Q4jDsa2rruoHkMTQb1y9uQInq6yQ2K-LBPHsLWQqom5lc3__D1dS1dAu7ygVMcjcLHJW-sp6wbhbsMoE9rKD4nxUKw/s1600-h/258.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGyBaPjywwXk-mwW1abh8VALUYtb2LNx0NvZJpjFkXpRraRUle2Q4jDsa2rruoHkMTQb1y9uQInq6yQ2K-LBPHsLWQqom5lc3__D1dS1dAu7ygVMcjcLHJW-sp6wbhbsMoE9rKD4nxUKw/s400/258.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389941618636792978" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">My favorite part of Kauai was taking a charter boat ride up the NaPali Coast. It was more beautiful than my limited writing skills can describe. We saw sea turtles, and dolphins swam along in front of the boat.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsoElPW5L3kSRmHsAfXTFDSuBjR2ZBXvEv5L45qQK3yXQVNxYJ7gCetVIA8YtHFQiZsq7a9yoLTmQwwwNPDA7hpc3zQGi6h04YffW6lqYLrEjPkqq6DmmbEr4zdcX_WD8qsXZlAnYoFw/s1600-h/427.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsoElPW5L3kSRmHsAfXTFDSuBjR2ZBXvEv5L45qQK3yXQVNxYJ7gCetVIA8YtHFQiZsq7a9yoLTmQwwwNPDA7hpc3zQGi6h04YffW6lqYLrEjPkqq6DmmbEr4zdcX_WD8qsXZlAnYoFw/s400/427.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389946910763650978" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I began snorkeling, but had to cut it short because a man on our boat was having heart problems. I was really proud of myself for actually snorkeling. I thought I would be too scared. I really would have liked to have done it more.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVE1h6cCMk_ofGHH9CtPFov7MYrq98FkXDJDy7f7Zl1cuBj5Dy5_mBnfKBp5dCWcWNsQS2XgHtScJdeFlHARaupl3-UCU-ohp4ek55s43_l53_4tHb2xI6sNBQECd0AlvVviq4iuLhjEc/s1600-h/501+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVE1h6cCMk_ofGHH9CtPFov7MYrq98FkXDJDy7f7Zl1cuBj5Dy5_mBnfKBp5dCWcWNsQS2XgHtScJdeFlHARaupl3-UCU-ohp4ek55s43_l53_4tHb2xI6sNBQECd0AlvVviq4iuLhjEc/s400/501+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389946923107799426" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">After our boat trip up the coast we went to eat at the perfect restaurant. The levels were tiered so every table had a view of the ocean and it was right on the beach and open air to the beach. We ate dinner and watched a beautiful sunset.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1oaT3Us9mKgU-hu_PybsilwrmCMYAzcyyt_WKXRbWC5A7AOiItTn8-79SxBGxPK_xJCi0-pj-JTbeN_dk4hZsTU7q0PdW7nP_JcF1jETcTBtU06QasOSiwBeZbEbwU7zWDlvwUHeztYM/s1600-h/100_1571.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1oaT3Us9mKgU-hu_PybsilwrmCMYAzcyyt_WKXRbWC5A7AOiItTn8-79SxBGxPK_xJCi0-pj-JTbeN_dk4hZsTU7q0PdW7nP_JcF1jETcTBtU06QasOSiwBeZbEbwU7zWDlvwUHeztYM/s400/100_1571.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389966419905918242" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">This was the first trip I wasn't ready to come home at the end.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was a great trip. This is me and Marilee saying 'goodbye' to the beach and the ocean.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVokdlBsDES77rqayqUizhN6pK3cwniy8re5legOqmf4vMcbc1N3VGOUrYhLMGD25G1ANJlm94JBu-Vq31dj201QQ6LtsTnK3AQjrXs-KUfXYRM-563mx06hLi-0fQ9ir3NC9JDGegy1I/s1600-h/535.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVokdlBsDES77rqayqUizhN6pK3cwniy8re5legOqmf4vMcbc1N3VGOUrYhLMGD25G1ANJlm94JBu-Vq31dj201QQ6LtsTnK3AQjrXs-KUfXYRM-563mx06hLi-0fQ9ir3NC9JDGegy1I/s400/535.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389966396400194578" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">For all of you who have ever had Nate get his hands on your camera, here is the ever-present foot shot. He even got my foot in this one. Our feet, in Hawaii.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCirOw0vYxig-VShGmviGiAK1mQZ19Z-0lTLbfgbNKy8EhfHg3TrZfWjbzXL57XDP_HR2UZLtJYhehZFSQEF04aFf3YX-byrPiAJgj6yQGXbmBBa1pI8etiNG2Ki2QRFAg1D-goKZnTg/s1600-h/173.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCirOw0vYxig-VShGmviGiAK1mQZ19Z-0lTLbfgbNKy8EhfHg3TrZfWjbzXL57XDP_HR2UZLtJYhehZFSQEF04aFf3YX-byrPiAJgj6yQGXbmBBa1pI8etiNG2Ki2QRFAg1D-goKZnTg/s400/173.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389941608473387746" border="0" /></a>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-43794982326790083642009-04-16T20:45:00.005-07:002009-04-19T14:10:00.003-07:00Anniversary<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am not under any illusions that I am a great writer. I began the day before my anniversary trying to write the story of how Nate and I met and ended up married. It just wasn't working for me. I really tried, but to no avail. So, instead I am going to post a few pictures from our wedding. These pictures had been packed since we moved and I just dug them out of the box a few months ago. I had to scan them in because we got married 12 years ago, which was before all the digital hooha that there is now. So, here, for your viewing pleasure, Nate and Kris, April 3, 1997.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-iWPP4nJyL6RogcOs_35RveVtcdb2BfN1XEqavEmyzpdIs9d3aWLg7gdceMAqV6dF9FoCAmplc6-CQfqwfedXlbXYLo0Vr5y2S6aVmIT3om5VisZKmVv70FtQ7iZy7ldU01mxsT9h4E/s1600-h/temple+2+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 388px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-iWPP4nJyL6RogcOs_35RveVtcdb2BfN1XEqavEmyzpdIs9d3aWLg7gdceMAqV6dF9FoCAmplc6-CQfqwfedXlbXYLo0Vr5y2S6aVmIT3om5VisZKmVv70FtQ7iZy7ldU01mxsT9h4E/s400/temple+2+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326289193151027074" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNdCSoo-y7k1c5ncZZevEoVbWDfDNARCWjssTPeRxjyjSkPyRVcKop6hjpvf35W4NzVXW6hmeup1wGzHYCK_2k7omveKStVWUCZZ0goXk545WJws9qHFVEl3nLBmqOzjY9-AMq6FjDSVo/s1600-h/temple+1+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 385px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNdCSoo-y7k1c5ncZZevEoVbWDfDNARCWjssTPeRxjyjSkPyRVcKop6hjpvf35W4NzVXW6hmeup1wGzHYCK_2k7omveKStVWUCZZ0goXk545WJws9qHFVEl3nLBmqOzjY9-AMq6FjDSVo/s400/temple+1+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326289196953718450" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkjFOxSSMeRTUh-kLoLHePzAfepN3D_7uJtB0wrFL1IByMLRgRBmrh3khBrDZMM4mpDJaUphp7dmYgAfse-8sUkV_48cmJF_NMhPn-Id7BASbtPLFqr936KJxwr3975STwkGh84-XjTc/s1600-h/wed+1+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkjFOxSSMeRTUh-kLoLHePzAfepN3D_7uJtB0wrFL1IByMLRgRBmrh3khBrDZMM4mpDJaUphp7dmYgAfse-8sUkV_48cmJF_NMhPn-Id7BASbtPLFqr936KJxwr3975STwkGh84-XjTc/s400/wed+1+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326289204382763810" border="0" /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Maybe someday I will be able to sputter a few coherent words that would tell of the circumstances of mine and Nate's meeting and falling in love, but for now, a picture has to do the job. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkjFOxSSMeRTUh-kLoLHePzAfepN3D_7uJtB0wrFL1IByMLRgRBmrh3khBrDZMM4mpDJaUphp7dmYgAfse-8sUkV_48cmJF_NMhPn-Id7BASbtPLFqr936KJxwr3975STwkGh84-XjTc/s1600-h/wed+1+copy.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span></a>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-17701462009105361912009-02-05T23:08:00.002-07:002009-02-05T23:10:22.262-07:00Baby Girl is 6 (On January 12, so by Kris standard time this post is right on time)!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">CAUTION PICTURE OVERLOAD!!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-p0E2qyAJDFWFY8an6kVC2ada_IsSYnnIBIADTbL2TW9R9UNMMhWIh8UuaZPCcTHOdhS2lRWdpYW4ARSyoky44m4n3DxPOqra1mLgxjJHd0rqhdAteCGsRvppxTondxbIAhq_G5rME4/s1600-h/Emma+Christmas.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-p0E2qyAJDFWFY8an6kVC2ada_IsSYnnIBIADTbL2TW9R9UNMMhWIh8UuaZPCcTHOdhS2lRWdpYW4ARSyoky44m4n3DxPOqra1mLgxjJHd0rqhdAteCGsRvppxTondxbIAhq_G5rME4/s400/Emma+Christmas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296919495720149378" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Emma is 6. No kidding. All of you who are thinking, 'what she isn't 14?',no, no she is not. She just thinks she is. I am really not ready for her to grow up. So, the fact that she had a "Glamor Party" for her birthday really didn't help. On her actual birthday we went as a family to Chuck-E-Cheese. Nate was surprised that the pizza wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Pete loved riding in all the little vehicles that just go up and down. Both Emma and Jake liked the shooting games. That was a little disturbing. Emma really likes this booth they have that gives you a sketch of yourself. She also really liked the animatronics. The theme was something about "Back to the 80's" so they had Chuck-E singing all sorts of crazy 80's songs. They weren't very good in the 80's, they were even worse with Chuck-E singing. Just imagine this mouse singing "Everybody Wants to Rule the World". Yeah, it was bad. But we were together, and Emma, being the cheeseball that she is said 'that was all she wanted for her Birthday to make it the best Birthday ever!'<br />Her second party was one after Jake's baptism. We had a luncheon after the baptism. Since there are 4 of us who have birthdays in a 3 week span that also overlaps Christmas and New Years we thought we would give our friends and family a break so they only had to come to Mapleton once and do a combined birthday party. So, she got to open the gifts from grandparents and some family friends that day, and so did Jake. They each blew out candles in a cupcake and we called it good.<br />Her third and final party was her party with her friends. It was a 'Glamor Party'. I should have taken a pictue of the invitations I made, but I didn't think of it at the time. The invitations were little purses that told all the party info and asked the girl's to come dressed in their most "glamorous attire". It was a roaring success with all the girls. There was sparkling grape juice to drink out of champagne flutes and pink cupcakes. We did hair and make-up and ended the whole glamorous party with a fashion show. It was really something. It made Emma happy, so I guess in the end all was worth it.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpZSHszAtlvnKXEXx3k8D0Gmi3TUmrE8bAo1JeEPWGrOiUSKnkjiHJ0sHvyfdAzSblFqA3WqBxY-Can7cxcmgbH8NgardYo2PI3YgMBB6AKsPm-30g0n2_uJPK4CqF3ycq3m4iksCKXs/s1600-h/2008-1-20.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpZSHszAtlvnKXEXx3k8D0Gmi3TUmrE8bAo1JeEPWGrOiUSKnkjiHJ0sHvyfdAzSblFqA3WqBxY-Can7cxcmgbH8NgardYo2PI3YgMBB6AKsPm-30g0n2_uJPK4CqF3ycq3m4iksCKXs/s400/2008-1-20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296919491030312946" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />I am so glad I have a such a sweet little girl. We have a wonderful relationship and I hope to always have that with her. Her heart is so good. She is always trying to make everyone around her happy. So, Happy Birthday Baby Girl!!<br /><br />Okay, here is the problem I have encountered, when I went through the pictures of Emma to put up here...well, there were like close to 40 that I wanted to post. So, I am going to post a few of my VERY favorites and then I am going to do one of those slide show things for those of you who care to indulge me in my affection for pictures of my daughter.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY1wX9sNxjZNmhiUkrzVc_aaDNPFm_eGJN15dqwxtcMYLFtbvprjTC5p4dOX8B8NIWv1Pd2fv2Gjq_2YayMNAKUpRXmlbB1yw6vHC0kMwqv93AJVvqIgciMlebEsUX6xJOu2yEitUwMLk/s1600-h/emma+first.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY1wX9sNxjZNmhiUkrzVc_aaDNPFm_eGJN15dqwxtcMYLFtbvprjTC5p4dOX8B8NIWv1Pd2fv2Gjq_2YayMNAKUpRXmlbB1yw6vHC0kMwqv93AJVvqIgciMlebEsUX6xJOu2yEitUwMLk/s400/emma+first.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297223221579561314" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One of the first pictures taken of Emma after she was born. She weighed in at a whopping 5 lbs. 5 oz. She was only 5 weeks early and I got to take her home from the hospital with me!<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOv-YijjPo9r63HP2uSdJYXssARSfoyX6lrzbp1wHRGSIwKxKorfkq7IPvM0GBNzFiOzNZIuWOeiXQqavlsR7WqCjqkyV_AAsNGYf-KBxKx8oFwLvQyz1Ztflyk4ydoiO9GfDbH49rGM8/s1600-h/emma+kiddie+kandids+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOv-YijjPo9r63HP2uSdJYXssARSfoyX6lrzbp1wHRGSIwKxKorfkq7IPvM0GBNzFiOzNZIuWOeiXQqavlsR7WqCjqkyV_AAsNGYf-KBxKx8oFwLvQyz1Ztflyk4ydoiO9GfDbH49rGM8/s400/emma+kiddie+kandids+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297223227129334210" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Emma after she was a couple months old. </span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDU4HwFpBIQBqy0ULg5JZA0J2kbLzvekbmmPfHDBmKtvirTAPuVc5Rfe6BIu2Cs3EjUBzdzF_GOh85rkgxrNZVbeStoD0FmnWeUGb-Pa3s68N8VRbWvr8mYzDxDh7T3zORbn5EvxYjsRk/s1600-h/emma+diet+coke.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDU4HwFpBIQBqy0ULg5JZA0J2kbLzvekbmmPfHDBmKtvirTAPuVc5Rfe6BIu2Cs3EjUBzdzF_GOh85rkgxrNZVbeStoD0FmnWeUGb-Pa3s68N8VRbWvr8mYzDxDh7T3zORbn5EvxYjsRk/s400/emma+diet+coke.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297223231713700674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Emma enjoying a nice, refreshing beverage.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXugowW6SpGkWcs5H_lS5hH7mZLBHj-hpyULgUxXCuSySI9Oyhhanc_Aea5IDHsJ904LOrvBUbPkneSbTHsFVdfyEDTUix8Q6Yvl1YIEoBRtVr4_goL8E4W5VRWb2Ift104Lbf9CzyCU/s1600-h/emma+cast.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 396px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXugowW6SpGkWcs5H_lS5hH7mZLBHj-hpyULgUxXCuSySI9Oyhhanc_Aea5IDHsJ904LOrvBUbPkneSbTHsFVdfyEDTUix8Q6Yvl1YIEoBRtVr4_goL8E4W5VRWb2Ift104Lbf9CzyCU/s400/emma+cast.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297223230041856946" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When Emma was almost 11 months old she broke her femur. She had this nasty cast on for about 6 weeks. It was awful. She learned to crawl with it though. She is a tough cookie. </span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8pOInaDn1Hra41FdnDDJPPW6nAKOvmjMElSt9unnVHaW1wsAL0Oxch7GuQwaB6bmlAhcrlEsYdyg_zBoSlHndosRmgIADEyc8lfZSIwHZYa4Ek9QA4l3b6tI-mmxghb52n5IO0uoct0/s1600-h/Emma+1+Christmas.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8pOInaDn1Hra41FdnDDJPPW6nAKOvmjMElSt9unnVHaW1wsAL0Oxch7GuQwaB6bmlAhcrlEsYdyg_zBoSlHndosRmgIADEyc8lfZSIwHZYa4Ek9QA4l3b6tI-mmxghb52n5IO0uoct0/s400/Emma+1+Christmas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297223235393757394" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Emma at Christmas time when she was about 1. She was already such a beauty.<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZk-spChbQkXJwC8tMXcqHvw1CAxL6akMuGH2tzJNrrRWvGwd1bMbLUEA9G2doC3wMTfI0YM9RlmRFTzOceec6MTzneINC24N_hjU-ehRsllEsxvXJTDLx0zHzxivLg0ks8lvhFTrPwg/s1600-h/emma+yellow+overalls.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZk-spChbQkXJwC8tMXcqHvw1CAxL6akMuGH2tzJNrrRWvGwd1bMbLUEA9G2doC3wMTfI0YM9RlmRFTzOceec6MTzneINC24N_hjU-ehRsllEsxvXJTDLx0zHzxivLg0ks8lvhFTrPwg/s400/emma+yellow+overalls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299556698669718082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxLFc2XzIvHjOiOJQ90aVL5_bqVn4FrtohJEd9GgaPhDBFQNm1366cZl_Mw-YIJHwZWsjm3wV6p1rKmEWSDBb-EtnG_8Rzp-BKrg87ehR4Q6GZaJi30cWAyxmfTOHqLuoSfw8AU75jxA/s1600-h/IMGP0628.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxLFc2XzIvHjOiOJQ90aVL5_bqVn4FrtohJEd9GgaPhDBFQNm1366cZl_Mw-YIJHwZWsjm3wV6p1rKmEWSDBb-EtnG_8Rzp-BKrg87ehR4Q6GZaJi30cWAyxmfTOHqLuoSfw8AU75jxA/s400/IMGP0628.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299559536070957346" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Emma at Disneyland for the first time.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmpdoc6zqhV4uuygwYN8DNTKraY33ev4w6pktKQVUtEIjFVsHmKfbDeOb4CkFohZ2syOp_lUaWDE9srKcPUh8Vs5GQgMBrvYQsmYYeGBRha42nubTM3oEm7AVKG8wa-qEGQgD0acIIiA/s1600-h/IMGP0470.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmpdoc6zqhV4uuygwYN8DNTKraY33ev4w6pktKQVUtEIjFVsHmKfbDeOb4CkFohZ2syOp_lUaWDE9srKcPUh8Vs5GQgMBrvYQsmYYeGBRha42nubTM3oEm7AVKG8wa-qEGQgD0acIIiA/s400/IMGP0470.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299559535802300066" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrN3bTljzf06yMN9L0Jl3HH0WLDDORsd2GmMiOTw3WciiwFOsFYlA34c5-NG-0W9iuUxUU1xua5qKaulfKaJorF0EsJyShqybnCzf0t-Dvg7EOBMxzWcyIl-0O03yOo4S0hGylAYFFEDI/s1600-h/IMGP0678.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrN3bTljzf06yMN9L0Jl3HH0WLDDORsd2GmMiOTw3WciiwFOsFYlA34c5-NG-0W9iuUxUU1xua5qKaulfKaJorF0EsJyShqybnCzf0t-Dvg7EOBMxzWcyIl-0O03yOo4S0hGylAYFFEDI/s400/IMGP0678.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299559533719819298" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Emma as Tinkerbell for Halloween when she was almost 2. </span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKM8FTwqFsohIG0p1Fe6BpsUjXzxJfkw2E4bDROGUkFCAfylOU83w5574w7Rj4Nh4JxFWHBIEnUrfH0z9MUqRYer9-0i2LE80RFKvsim056mjKLwshQFoFsxoe4dzmhKAseZFVU6pG_0/s1600-h/IMGP0688.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKM8FTwqFsohIG0p1Fe6BpsUjXzxJfkw2E4bDROGUkFCAfylOU83w5574w7Rj4Nh4JxFWHBIEnUrfH0z9MUqRYer9-0i2LE80RFKvsim056mjKLwshQFoFsxoe4dzmhKAseZFVU6pG_0/s400/IMGP0688.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299559535601348370" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Gorgeous Em, and yes, I am totally biased.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfON0C8DHvBwsP0m4BtNaORC6HQjYtdz7UMgldP-IIJExTF0dkj9gbTjNU4JliI2fhuzD6yg_fyi-XjzK85ZQ1qsZj4BACDJVYZj3JERF5JVk0hQRYZQ1sbbDBMeuI-jW45gw9Qgd33Eg/s1600-h/emma+bobs+wedding.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfON0C8DHvBwsP0m4BtNaORC6HQjYtdz7UMgldP-IIJExTF0dkj9gbTjNU4JliI2fhuzD6yg_fyi-XjzK85ZQ1qsZj4BACDJVYZj3JERF5JVk0hQRYZQ1sbbDBMeuI-jW45gw9Qgd33Eg/s400/emma+bobs+wedding.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299556704942660642" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Em at Bob and Erica's wedding. Beautiful.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0i8UA8mqoy0Wr1h81_s0OL5sBTmHS_eTLl3N3Skry9mTFpmAKCqE2z_u4oAGPbPRb6W8JpndGTVI8KlT9psHEmb_i-meZFBvo-RtAXqwYN4R1KuSOVrLF6YYR2i0bZfYIGHzevxhx1ZY/s1600-h/IMGP1048+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0i8UA8mqoy0Wr1h81_s0OL5sBTmHS_eTLl3N3Skry9mTFpmAKCqE2z_u4oAGPbPRb6W8JpndGTVI8KlT9psHEmb_i-meZFBvo-RtAXqwYN4R1KuSOVrLF6YYR2i0bZfYIGHzevxhx1ZY/s400/IMGP1048+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299556706394410530" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Emma last Christmas</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-4514009753615841342009-01-31T16:27:00.010-07:002009-02-01T00:01:13.820-07:00Happy Birthday Dad!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfoeaUzb_KkQDkCWBcliyxn6G6ic1njNGRcm7bssL2q7eTRx8naMODTNrNS44gI2UgtJqFicY27_eRi-crK_0RttR5J7c_pR1FUf6nFqVj6EiWW2gpbmMA0Yurfs_RctXkueoaLEPWIXk/s1600-h/IMG_0412.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfoeaUzb_KkQDkCWBcliyxn6G6ic1njNGRcm7bssL2q7eTRx8naMODTNrNS44gI2UgtJqFicY27_eRi-crK_0RttR5J7c_pR1FUf6nFqVj6EiWW2gpbmMA0Yurfs_RctXkueoaLEPWIXk/s400/IMG_0412.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297713545209198466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Happy Birthday Dad! Today is my Dad's Birthday and I just can't help but be a lemming and write a little about why I love my Dad so much and wish him a Happy Birthday.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Actually, I have been thinking a lot about the things that my Dad has taught me and the ways that he has influenced me. He has always been such a force for good in my life, I thought that I might list a few of these things. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One of the largest ways my Dad has influenced me is that I am a dyed in the wool BYU fan. I can remember as a child spending days just going down to campus. Just to spend the day there. We used to sing the 'Cougar Fight Song' on road trips. I also have attended BYU football games with my Dad since I was too young to even need a ticket of my own. Through the years I am sure I often took these opportunities to spend so much time alone with my Dad for granted, but even as I sit here and write about it I am brought to tears thinking of all the fun times I had with him going to the games. Along with going to the games, he gave me a love for football that most women are never able to attain. I can honestly say I enjoy a good football game considerably more than my husband. It is a strange twist.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9H_gknFjDRHvt-waGpafIH64L2MHrekEPaRo12v6n-YFiClI330669is2aOhTMLhgiQWxwBsy1BMjoAm0kN3R5s6_9kEmhQeh7Ua1YxTdGLlufTG4t6yesVQTafLS8fceBQZu4pO0Fg/s1600-h/IMG_0400.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9H_gknFjDRHvt-waGpafIH64L2MHrekEPaRo12v6n-YFiClI330669is2aOhTMLhgiQWxwBsy1BMjoAm0kN3R5s6_9kEmhQeh7Ua1YxTdGLlufTG4t6yesVQTafLS8fceBQZu4pO0Fg/s320/IMG_0400.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297718056760013026" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />My Dad is the most fair man I have ever known. He always gives people the benefit of the doubt. This is something that I admire, but have not perfected. This did give me a good start in life dealing with other people though because I didn't have any experience with being judgementmental or prejudiced.<br />My Dad was always a wonderful spiritual leader in our home. He taught me to make a decision about the important things in life once and then be a good enough person to stick with the decision. He made the decision he would go to Church on Sunday, so there is no question on Sunday morning, he already made the decision a while back. It makes for an easy Sunday morning. I don't know if I have explained this quality very well, but I think that it has been of great benefit in my life. I don't have a lot of times where I have to figure out what I am going to do, I have already made the decision. I fulfill callings, because that was a decision I made when I received the calling. That is what my Dad taught me through his example.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDY1rKndLf7_WHBAhq4bog0sLkscChcRFPGgGT2EJqXRTlGpp4fNFqUZzoBHsUsZV85SpsJgAWlhmQww4OpES7dlM1iCbDw_MJxyGCnSZb2iVAFW0p8MWVzcvQkU43JjzvMfu4FGLe44k/s1600-h/IMGP1622.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDY1rKndLf7_WHBAhq4bog0sLkscChcRFPGgGT2EJqXRTlGpp4fNFqUZzoBHsUsZV85SpsJgAWlhmQww4OpES7dlM1iCbDw_MJxyGCnSZb2iVAFW0p8MWVzcvQkU43JjzvMfu4FGLe44k/s320/IMGP1622.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297719637318109986" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />One thing that I didn't realize until recently is that my Dad, along with my Mom, provided a safe, happy environment for me. He protected me from so much of the rotten things that he saw at work, and never brought it home. I am so grateful that I grew up feeling safe and happy and always knew my home was a haven from the world. I often, in talking with my friends, say I grew up in a "happy little bubble", and frankly, I am grateful for that bubble that was provided. I may be a bit naive, but I don't know it.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXw6oOpvJTSPCZJV0PF-mSD0fcGJxYywEQUlrWkorBPZFzYrG9cvW1saI3ZIMEjmjXQWsXK_qKlSLO6ov6LqWEeEDcedS-rirhaD3MIboIszZpd1fEpOzbBEmKNZUKANPI1Lg8ku7MQHo/s1600-h/IMG_0434.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXw6oOpvJTSPCZJV0PF-mSD0fcGJxYywEQUlrWkorBPZFzYrG9cvW1saI3ZIMEjmjXQWsXK_qKlSLO6ov6LqWEeEDcedS-rirhaD3MIboIszZpd1fEpOzbBEmKNZUKANPI1Lg8ku7MQHo/s320/IMG_0434.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297718397269429618" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One of the things I am most grateful for is that my Dad taught me to have a good sense of humor and some moderation in my life. Life should be fun, and my Dad taught me that I should be able to take time and enjoy the things I like to do. He has always been a hard worker, but he also showed me it is okay to go to a movie instead of spend the entire day Saturday working. You can do some of each, fun and work.<br />My Dad has a great sense of humor and some of the greatest movies are movies that I first watched with my Dad. Indiana Jones, Die Hard, and Romancing the Stone are all movies that I remember watching with Dad.<br />One of my greatest memories that my Dad probably doesn't even remember is the first night of bombing during Desert Storm. My Dad let me stay up late (I was in 9th grade) and watch the news with him. I am so much like my Dad in my love of politics, current events, and history. I didn't know it then, but that interest in what was going on and watching that together was something that was so neat to me to be able to share with him.<br />There are so many things about my Dad that are so extraordinary. I am so grateful that I was able to be raised by such a caring, loving, strong, spiritual man. I can't express in words how much I really love him, but I hope he knows. Dad, Happy Birthday!</span><br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgloYNdM1rjtf2ZKmRRE8LxLSfbV5GPS1Py5ofITASYnpOOEVtOuiDaxJwGiDIUT9kBcpOj04eRXOYcwpojWY1nsWYiEvRy36omDWSIFKHeIY5ACRp5obvOtcMIhYKIu-0ogyVeW9GW5YY/s1600-h/grandma+and+grandpa_edited-1+copy+3.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgloYNdM1rjtf2ZKmRRE8LxLSfbV5GPS1Py5ofITASYnpOOEVtOuiDaxJwGiDIUT9kBcpOj04eRXOYcwpojWY1nsWYiEvRy36omDWSIFKHeIY5ACRp5obvOtcMIhYKIu-0ogyVeW9GW5YY/s400/grandma+and+grandpa_edited-1+copy+3.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Mom and Dad for Christmas. Awhh. </span><br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnyOI-iaKxDDLK7GMPk2Cl0qDP7mAnYwRfUd70c90KO7qmTuFxivpuZ09Q_uPIUSUDw_hwwvUyy7YL1YKIIcFtbFusMHZVNaE4zYWn5TQTqR93lyzgsODc3cJtBHRA6aMdH49_6T9T0Q/s1600-h/IMGP1622.JPG"><br /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-58716916993620244792009-01-20T19:48:00.008-07:002009-01-20T21:17:00.245-07:008 Is Great Part 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50LDm95OKKiS2zZ_7ktJ-YIN0ENJFvHIUoUMjum8MYFX9vE4HkiQ-cJN-UNYPMm3bxp-BLHu1LVA5JTVTS3xyvM-mwGd_QG_6_GLxaDcCDHTecTWKrMMKzO8lf7hiLQdFtbokHsPiqhQ/s1600-h/IMGP3911+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50LDm95OKKiS2zZ_7ktJ-YIN0ENJFvHIUoUMjum8MYFX9vE4HkiQ-cJN-UNYPMm3bxp-BLHu1LVA5JTVTS3xyvM-mwGd_QG_6_GLxaDcCDHTecTWKrMMKzO8lf7hiLQdFtbokHsPiqhQ/s400/IMGP3911+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293583568682323634" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On January 10 Jake was baptized. It was a great day for our family. As we talked before he was baptized I was amazed at his level of understanding of the gospel and the ordinance that he was participating in. I don't think I knew that much at his age, and I don't think I taught him all he knows. Regardless, he knows and it makes me happy.<br />We had so much family travel and send their love and support I was so grateful for the efforts that were made.<br />The baptism program was short, but went very well. Jake actually sang a song all by himself. I was so proud of him. There have been many people who attended his baptism who have commented to me about how sweet and wonderful his song was. It was good for him to learn the words to the song too because they talked of the covenant he was taking.<br />I am so proud of my Jakers. It is times like this that make me so grateful to be a mother and to have these sweet (most of the time) kids in my home. I sure love my Jake. I am one happy Mom.<br />Oh, plus we didn't get any great pictures. Seriously, these are the best of them. Bummer.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_Rlpcl2qEwG2_fFCt4QQxIaCiGvvaEc0VOmNrWmDHjJoXbyYQLg8sXWZWfZaRGux5GKYUyMa3ABzRy8HsOwN-KWvf12O3A3pp8W5ugYj3CnHbFjcV0NrrxC9gTWVpM_cYuCdt7mG5Ds/s1600-h/IMGP3912.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_Rlpcl2qEwG2_fFCt4QQxIaCiGvvaEc0VOmNrWmDHjJoXbyYQLg8sXWZWfZaRGux5GKYUyMa3ABzRy8HsOwN-KWvf12O3A3pp8W5ugYj3CnHbFjcV0NrrxC9gTWVpM_cYuCdt7mG5Ds/s400/IMGP3912.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293593686536832114" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Here is Jake in his new suit that he got for his baptism. He is just being goofy. We get goofy or eyes closed. Take your pick.<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjlQEoUD7IXj2gDXUaxWCZHlxDYuEE8EgP3ShleOLkTOR_nTo7NrxdHSkj0Na8FDCVEcGlmSisb2lqKkW7waMyMVNwWxl_55-QGzN5YkxdprMExiT0JXyOHhlVpZ2Zgne_peCbNja_HI/s1600-h/IMGP3921.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjlQEoUD7IXj2gDXUaxWCZHlxDYuEE8EgP3ShleOLkTOR_nTo7NrxdHSkj0Na8FDCVEcGlmSisb2lqKkW7waMyMVNwWxl_55-QGzN5YkxdprMExiT0JXyOHhlVpZ2Zgne_peCbNja_HI/s400/IMGP3921.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293595416712606626" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Here are the guys ready for the baptism. Those are pretty stylin' outfits.<br /><br /></span>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-87460672178384439092009-01-05T11:26:00.009-07:002009-01-05T23:04:02.415-07:008 Is Great!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwupSmvre1-gBPWLJyt_c8s2ozVVv9q5-TTAxYon-G6UHK4VzUgOZo4fVu_la67vqTIFPwTFLyUSCjJI5MN6JG0ngjwkSRTc9H3m2Q6Xppf7KzUe5iOmeekLeMtKUFPz5T0I6bmXCUaI/s1600-h/IMGP3740.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwupSmvre1-gBPWLJyt_c8s2ozVVv9q5-TTAxYon-G6UHK4VzUgOZo4fVu_la67vqTIFPwTFLyUSCjJI5MN6JG0ngjwkSRTc9H3m2Q6Xppf7KzUe5iOmeekLeMtKUFPz5T0I6bmXCUaI/s400/IMGP3740.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288056309552895474" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My Jakers is 8!! It is absolutely nuts. I can't believe he is getting so big. He has been such a wonderful little guy to have in our family. We went to dinner at a Chinese restaurant once and I saved his fortune from his fortune cookie because I thought it was completely meant for Jake. The fortune reads "Your smile brings happiness to others." I think this perfectly describes his affect on others.<br />The thing that continues to amaze me is what a happy, optimistic, sweet personality he has after everything he has gone through. This sweet boy has overcome many things already in his life, and always is surprising me with his cheerful attitude. Most of the time I don't think he even knows he was dealing with more than most kids do. He brings me so much happiness (most of the time, he is an 8 year old boy) and he keeps me on my toes. I know there is no way for me to let him know how much I love him, but every day I will keep trying.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXnbCdPKRYaldK6jt5_pgFrkUkX7oDh1Uam6GtGeUR59lXgnHbvbsnZep3XLYfFts0BspPzLPhULWKBoZVfMdDt-_ov6onU4zXTAxhykfOf320i5MnumnfqdXr7GIMlgy5LjByagphdQ/s1600-h/Picture7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXnbCdPKRYaldK6jt5_pgFrkUkX7oDh1Uam6GtGeUR59lXgnHbvbsnZep3XLYfFts0BspPzLPhULWKBoZVfMdDt-_ov6onU4zXTAxhykfOf320i5MnumnfqdXr7GIMlgy5LjByagphdQ/s400/Picture7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288049670656452802" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid5KH_cmJxP5kk34HWZyAMBxky2Mi5mxsLIpP1L35b83AYdWAYNKfosR1eGbE_UttDttbTyLdF3Y0XZXo4HdoFPquRpeN72FCz8gq71mmkJttfVFm4CmeycEABysV2wZyKaSjJ3SR5j1k/s1600-h/jake+mom+copy.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid5KH_cmJxP5kk34HWZyAMBxky2Mi5mxsLIpP1L35b83AYdWAYNKfosR1eGbE_UttDttbTyLdF3Y0XZXo4HdoFPquRpeN72FCz8gq71mmkJttfVFm4CmeycEABysV2wZyKaSjJ3SR5j1k/s400/jake+mom+copy.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287909104676075522" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gv229XB1EcAoijLq0FHs9ALqYHt8UlUfv369QZn9yOvjZMDHltfcQ4714GJ2rrLtETO3AcNzR9e_oHZtoIJK00Ep6cTMQ19xpA6QlRhMtK795BfnkAYWkgIEsXtzZy4mqCKnoexw3gc/s1600-h/jake+b%26w+copy.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gv229XB1EcAoijLq0FHs9ALqYHt8UlUfv369QZn9yOvjZMDHltfcQ4714GJ2rrLtETO3AcNzR9e_oHZtoIJK00Ep6cTMQ19xpA6QlRhMtK795BfnkAYWkgIEsXtzZy4mqCKnoexw3gc/s400/jake+b%26w+copy.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287909081456364082" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMM_nsFv4quX9jDbzG6WKEgNx2tQYexlHioML8CJPxYY3BZ9ZoMHBC9kCVk8WpaRfFfRHl6YGBRMeQOCuSIUNlXOvgiBtoUwydQNFKMarw6Q-ZYXrNxtKUM819Q8czB_eo4ADHKzPxbk/s1600-h/jake+in+park.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 365px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMM_nsFv4quX9jDbzG6WKEgNx2tQYexlHioML8CJPxYY3BZ9ZoMHBC9kCVk8WpaRfFfRHl6YGBRMeQOCuSIUNlXOvgiBtoUwydQNFKMarw6Q-ZYXrNxtKUM819Q8czB_eo4ADHKzPxbk/s400/jake+in+park.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287909096390934738" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6uEWQgVIO6lkRJx-dsCaFBa5n_yBTad-BBsbxnaQLjjGh-CE9i_yPTUeW5DZLiRuVlcl65OtZPJ1qROuP3k6umrWri464TwqQVKvlTWF75FJgzJB-Td_vP5is421AMjEc-UWD1TNW5Ng/s1600-h/Picture_0062704+021.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6uEWQgVIO6lkRJx-dsCaFBa5n_yBTad-BBsbxnaQLjjGh-CE9i_yPTUeW5DZLiRuVlcl65OtZPJ1qROuP3k6umrWri464TwqQVKvlTWF75FJgzJB-Td_vP5is421AMjEc-UWD1TNW5Ng/s400/Picture_0062704+021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287908307964567586" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpV1XHUquLNeeKiQR9AeH-rjhjHUUS0WZh9DM4VWtUIAxAOM9mKTzQZAMGPNzPy7ieYSj2mHjcjSygyDakVfZC6As9-eIxpDWu2wPhrcGmpOsWAzQHksvT2KOJLrwjF5z28ClAkiTDSo/s1600-h/Picture_0053104+027.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpV1XHUquLNeeKiQR9AeH-rjhjHUUS0WZh9DM4VWtUIAxAOM9mKTzQZAMGPNzPy7ieYSj2mHjcjSygyDakVfZC6As9-eIxpDWu2wPhrcGmpOsWAzQHksvT2KOJLrwjF5z28ClAkiTDSo/s400/Picture_0053104+027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287908292036984418" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnIekIrcuy-j0Mq4mPB51ermhGGLiokF1aE3OpEf27cOMqcCPD6UYivGQ1rhgTE2Fps0NN9e6M18RpwUIoplFdDx4mVLHN3Q8eAQP7hshxh9NzaT3c8cUFxAtSe86qqLMAPiJ2QDoEHk/s1600-h/Picture_0051504+006-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnIekIrcuy-j0Mq4mPB51ermhGGLiokF1aE3OpEf27cOMqcCPD6UYivGQ1rhgTE2Fps0NN9e6M18RpwUIoplFdDx4mVLHN3Q8eAQP7hshxh9NzaT3c8cUFxAtSe86qqLMAPiJ2QDoEHk/s400/Picture_0051504+006-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287908328563719810" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC8Ws-Ob5r1IG4bI6xWU7BvfPGReaR0y_diWndoQYCYoUl26rKq_YwH-f9tNpTU4vV4SH3_TglyZe8xyOTSfd-mYO7nov2ioOqqBKHChiTPgku8IPL33IXAUSPUE1XWxG6BcJNFr9iue4/s1600-h/IMGP0568.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC8Ws-Ob5r1IG4bI6xWU7BvfPGReaR0y_diWndoQYCYoUl26rKq_YwH-f9tNpTU4vV4SH3_TglyZe8xyOTSfd-mYO7nov2ioOqqBKHChiTPgku8IPL33IXAUSPUE1XWxG6BcJNFr9iue4/s400/IMGP0568.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287908319521253330" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsAjEQ5ESepr91rZ-PkboD1gIs0_ljpbBh8oGuW_NvNI_PsS3V-ml1xsl2GUgs2qNnh27NRmgIwDKK8SDnj2pETH9g2XIvLkgFaN40Eb-mc68NI2RkUx1Olsna9ELR93kwjc-gxlCnkY/s1600-h/IMGP0687-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsAjEQ5ESepr91rZ-PkboD1gIs0_ljpbBh8oGuW_NvNI_PsS3V-ml1xsl2GUgs2qNnh27NRmgIwDKK8SDnj2pETH9g2XIvLkgFaN40Eb-mc68NI2RkUx1Olsna9ELR93kwjc-gxlCnkY/s400/IMGP0687-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287908321815477666" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3STY2lMzgI7gc_ou9d6JSFZVms3YwQTTrt-YNaSUyizW-lRnw_JvepH2ZC1gBs61bKCWIrbCeLxgYNrHBLWrOyrOM0behZ_8rsDxgyrmWEP4a1Zk_Ljm1-m_ALxrmWJ78m31n4BqI50/s1600-h/IMGP3739.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3STY2lMzgI7gc_ou9d6JSFZVms3YwQTTrt-YNaSUyizW-lRnw_JvepH2ZC1gBs61bKCWIrbCeLxgYNrHBLWrOyrOM0behZ_8rsDxgyrmWEP4a1Zk_Ljm1-m_ALxrmWJ78m31n4BqI50/s400/IMGP3739.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288056315245956738" border="0" /></a>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-42331933908174544042008-12-30T23:24:00.002-07:002008-12-30T23:28:49.396-07:00Merry Christmas!<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzOYi3Yy4cR9GbIdF4Txd-siAVMWWUtLJ4I3N-DgGZW2kOtZkcF9Z9cPRVhC-AG_TVzK0Qh4TN00YF9JZya6MWvSbi0WgZiMiESbVPlv-oqk_tRlqg9HyMwurBy-JM1MKgy68Ht9zSvw/s1600-h/IMGP3623.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzOYi3Yy4cR9GbIdF4Txd-siAVMWWUtLJ4I3N-DgGZW2kOtZkcF9Z9cPRVhC-AG_TVzK0Qh4TN00YF9JZya6MWvSbi0WgZiMiESbVPlv-oqk_tRlqg9HyMwurBy-JM1MKgy68Ht9zSvw/s400/IMGP3623.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, it was Christmas. Now it isn't. I can't believe how fast it came and went. I am still spinning. This was a very fun Christmas at the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Swenson</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> house though. I really felt like both Jake and Em understood what it is we are celebrating. They are old enough now to understand some of the traditions that we do and truly participate. They enjoyed putting their own ornaments on the tree and asked us about each one. They learned so many songs and were forced to listen to many hours of an Osmond Family Christmas (a McGuire tradition that I am carrying on).<br />Christmas this year seemed to take on a theme for me. It seemed like everything I heard kept turning back to "gift". I know this is a common theme around Christmas but for some reason this Christmas it was a particularly strong theme. With all the talk of gifts, and the purpose of gifts, my mind was continually drawn to the gift of the Atonement. At this time of the year I can't help but be so grateful for that. I have spent time with my own little family and my extended family and it has reminded me how much it means that these are people I can be with forever. The gifts that we have that will last forever are only ours through our Savior. The prophet pointed out some of these gifts during the Christmas devotional, "All that we hold dear, even our families, our friends, our joy, our knowledge, our testimonies would vanish were it not for our Father and His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ." I have gained a greater appreciation for this during this holiday season and although I don't usually use this as a forum for spiritual matters, this is what has mattered to me lately. So, I am sharing. I believe that these things are what make Christmas the time for celebrating. So Merry Christmas!</span><div style="clear: both; text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-10110368111132370462008-12-15T20:58:00.004-07:002008-12-15T21:42:04.916-07:00It burns! It burns!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well, it happened. I have always worried about having my kids around gas fireplaces because you know they are going to put their hands on the glass. With Jake and Emma we didn't have a fireplace in the house so I just had to worry when we went to my or Nate's parents. Now with Pete we do have a fireplace. We turned it on for the first time this winter and sure enough we had to tell Peter several times to stay away from the glass. Then we turned our back and he did it. He put both hands on the glass. He is so funny though because he didn't really cry, I mean he yelled, but he isn't much of a cryer. His hands didn't blister right then, so it wasn't a second degree burn (yes, for those of you who are thinking it, I am trying to avoid CPS coming to my house so this is my back-pedalling). By the next morning though they were all blistered and looked like they hurt. He didn't fuss or anything though.<br />So all of this happened Monday night. On Tuesday night Nate suggested that we put Band-Aids over his blistered palms to try to keep them from getting infection. So, here is our first attempt.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62vsusXqLLYW7yRkOo0GZ3uJcP7Pni66ny7Y9x9Ah7axv129GtkJGVNcv0O3yX9jysf9VlHlmUJWA-5V8p96MvyuYds4O9BVs6mUoRZnxlrAqhgYwkdRY1Vp9h7iLThwgZRos7t_PquE/s1600-h/IMGP3558+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62vsusXqLLYW7yRkOo0GZ3uJcP7Pni66ny7Y9x9Ah7axv129GtkJGVNcv0O3yX9jysf9VlHlmUJWA-5V8p96MvyuYds4O9BVs6mUoRZnxlrAqhgYwkdRY1Vp9h7iLThwgZRos7t_PquE/s400/IMGP3558+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280242561644090274" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />On Wednesday I got to thinking that it might be a good idea to call the pediatrician and see if there was anything I should be doing to make sure his hands healed okay. The call went something like this:<br /><br />Me: My son is 1 1/2 and he burnt his hands on our fireplace. I was just wondering if there is anything I should do so they don't get infected.<br />(The nurse asks the Dr.)<br />Nurse: Keep the hands cool, don't put ice directly on them, and bring him in right now.<br />Me: (Very hesitantly knowing I am going to sound negligent) Uh, well, he did this a couple of days ago, so, should I keep them wrapped or antibiotic ointment?<br />Nurse: Oh, hmm. Yes. You should wrap them with... yada yada<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5oeSgKngrJT8WVkODt-WBcjIINE0uUSHeNvLBuWWs5bqCsJ9mM0-SuZCJlwMcfUREi0QBvZm9dcfzG5LJ5BPZ1cfk74z8ob3P3z3a-YN2rn-98ivPih2_dJS19ZIAK-LBRuwjAkAqjE/s1600-h/IMGP3564+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 358px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5oeSgKngrJT8WVkODt-WBcjIINE0uUSHeNvLBuWWs5bqCsJ9mM0-SuZCJlwMcfUREi0QBvZm9dcfzG5LJ5BPZ1cfk74z8ob3P3z3a-YN2rn-98ivPih2_dJS19ZIAK-LBRuwjAkAqjE/s400/IMGP3564+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280242572827962082" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is how the nurse instructed me to wrap them, of course not with the tail that is hanging there, that is all Pete. Needless to say the wrapping lasted a total of a couple hours. It appears I may have been a little lax with not taking him in, but they are healing fine, and he is just as happy and "curious" as ever.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-48429212174720851222008-11-14T10:38:00.004-07:002008-11-14T10:57:51.377-07:00Overheard<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Our little family was driving around the other day. I can't remember where we were going or what we were doing, but in the backseats this is what Nate and I overheard. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Emma: "This time light my bum on fire!!"<br />Jake: "Okay, WHOOSH (apparently the sound of lighting someone's bum on fire)"<br />Emma: Pause. Then in a "surferish" tone, "Dude, hey dude. Smell that? What's cookin'?"<br />Jake roars with laughter<br />Emma: "No really dude, what's cookin'?"<br /><br />Ah, the pride a parent feels when they overhear their children playing and laughing together.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1OE-NXVj-AZFl2L9d71u3KbOLZPEV-hFbWakzWStz1YvmURXQfdeQFAdsr4vGc9SY9-w_wqDLYd7aWT5VnNrALWYkz2qNfZXd2D5tTMLzh-3T_TooYRNLDRz387n29V4DZCJDOMbJPIA/s1600-h/IMGP1638.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1OE-NXVj-AZFl2L9d71u3KbOLZPEV-hFbWakzWStz1YvmURXQfdeQFAdsr4vGc9SY9-w_wqDLYd7aWT5VnNrALWYkz2qNfZXd2D5tTMLzh-3T_TooYRNLDRz387n29V4DZCJDOMbJPIA/s400/IMGP1638.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268573429747355474" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857917799780390924.post-81222086127472534932008-11-03T23:04:00.011-07:002008-11-04T22:12:17.867-07:00All Hallows Eve<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Here is the Halloween Report from our family. It is really kind of crummy here because they don't let the kids in elementary school dress up for Halloween. I swear those Halloween parades in elementary were the greatest. The other thing about dressing up for school is that you can wear your costume without your coat over it. As Jerry Seinfeld said, "I don't recall Superman ever wearing a jacket." The coat with the costume is a drag, and during school you didn't have to wear your coat. Enough of my blathering on about this.<br />As soon as the kids got home from school we packed up and headed to my parents for a Halloween party with my siblings and parents. It was fun, my kids trick-or-treated in my parents neighborhood which wasn't the highlight because we don't know anyone there, but the kids didn't seem to care. Then we went back to my parents and paarrtied!!! We had a great dinner and some great games (thanks Nat and Ju!).<br />Jake was really funny all night long. He referred to everyone by their costume. He liked answering my parents door and he would say things like, "Red Power Ranger, that is a great costume. Oh, Dracula how is the trick-or-treating?" Nat dressed up as a devil and he just called her 'devil' all night. During one of the games we drew out trick or treat cards. If it said trick, you had to do a trick, and if it said treat you got a treat. You get it. So Jake pulls a trick card and it says to fly around the room like a bat. So he starts flapping, not a stretch, then he starts pretend biting people and yelling, "Now you have rabies!" I am not sure who told him that bats give you rabies but it was pretty funny for Jake to run around and give my whole family rabies. . Then during desert Bob asked the kids if they liked "Camp Rock" and Jake just comes out with "hated it". He didn't even skip a beat. This is a boy who has obviously been forced to listen to too much Disney Channel pop against his will. All in all, it was a great Halloween.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH9tVX1w365iZBGokH94r6tDzdGaAjQ_2wPuE-RkvyNjROx4TmIdKoiN2mnEBdGVAXa80BlWPqC37YG8m1ah3YAwoZpyqfRcT40pCG3wPt3vZwrqGRyVIJ5tFQSLDjBJZa0Bzbh9XJTTI/s1600-h/IMGP3501+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH9tVX1w365iZBGokH94r6tDzdGaAjQ_2wPuE-RkvyNjROx4TmIdKoiN2mnEBdGVAXa80BlWPqC37YG8m1ah3YAwoZpyqfRcT40pCG3wPt3vZwrqGRyVIJ5tFQSLDjBJZa0Bzbh9XJTTI/s400/IMGP3501+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264688286445874818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Here we are. I am supposed to be a cat (I didn't realize the headband I was wearing was so fluffy until I saw pictures), Jake is Anakin, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Emma is Hannah Montana, and Pete was a Monster (not a stretch).<br />My camera ran out of batteries, so I have to get some pictures of Nate in his costume from my Mom, it was pretty funny. You'll have to tune in later for the pics.<br /></span>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15200763148668473192noreply@blogger.com1