tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-126456192024-03-07T17:51:24.743-06:00Goose BumpsMe and my slightest ideas.Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.comBlogger1033125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-84007585652673429182020-08-23T12:59:00.008-05:002020-09-16T07:52:36.643-05:00To my first on his 14th, 15th, and 16th<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"></blockquote>Dear John,<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTCgjmded8fs-Z28r4t-gcq1ADz7Ju5rMHvnlj_VwoRv08A6zBDauH_NMDDbZynpZc14i-Cf0oVIHMC-V_lNEitD9w4j4hpDXoDfw5EWvdY8WRXAwo1AWPqmNBt4sViVHirRR/s1334/458F6641-9601-4BC9-9514-84FED3E360E7_1_100_o.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTCgjmded8fs-Z28r4t-gcq1ADz7Ju5rMHvnlj_VwoRv08A6zBDauH_NMDDbZynpZc14i-Cf0oVIHMC-V_lNEitD9w4j4hpDXoDfw5EWvdY8WRXAwo1AWPqmNBt4sViVHirRR/w113-h200/458F6641-9601-4BC9-9514-84FED3E360E7_1_100_o.jpeg" width="113" /></a>Happy Sweet 16th, sweet boy. You are now taller than me and your dad. You can pick me up. You have a job. You built a motorized bike. You are a Boy Scout (sort of -- I think you're mainly in it for the campouts and other trips). There's too much catching up for me to appropriately address all 3 of the years that have gone by without me writing. I'm sorry. These past 3 years have been hard for me. Thank you for being there for me, for supporting me the best way you knew how. Hopefully, someday we can sit down and have an adult conversation about it all. Until then, I'm grateful you are my son. And anyway ... this is about YOU, not me. <span style="font-size: small;"><i>(That's a hard concept for me, even as a grownup mother of two.)</i></span><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw-3S0adKXRz7QQ36w2vBY7TgjaAyelQPXGMkbvbWPJ1GxUlUMBXAqBYtNdpFH2Ej_kFsrZOsK9OWM' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />Now that baseball is finished, your biggest hobby is fishing and biking. You've actually made two motorbikes at this point -- one you sold (and then agonized over because you were worried it might stop working and the guy might come back and blame you, and the other is still with us, in all its noisy glory). You ride it to your job and to your friends' homes. Sometimes I suspect that you ride it up and down the block to annoy everyone. Except I think I'm the only one who's really annoyed. The fishing obsession is so fun to watch. A few months ago, you got out each of your baits and explained them to me. I listened patiently, though I had no clue what was really happening. I just loved listening to you talk.<br /><br />Sometimes at night, usually pretty late, you tell me you have anxiety. I go into your room, and we talk. You have no idea how much that means to me, John-John -- that you trust me, that you rely on me, that we talk. I have heard from a lot of other moms that teenage boys just. don't. talk. ever. But you're different -- you're sensitive, and you recognize that you need someone else to share the burden with. This is a key life skill, and I hope you continue to hone it as you get older and move away from us. I know it won't always be me that you turn to, so I cherish the time that's mine now. I know that eventually, you will stop talking to me just like you stopped asking me to rub your back every night. I waited all through middle school for it to stop, you dragged it out, but finally, now, it's gone. So, I recognize fleeting moments quite easily now. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div>Since you are 16, everything sort of seems like a fleeting moment. Only two years until you can technically move out and get your own apartment ... something you have wanted to do for nearly a decade. I'll never forget the day you came home from a playdate and said, "Dad, why can't me and Quinn and Cohen just get our own place?" You were 8. Below I've written 16 of your fleeting characteristics that I'd like to capture:</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Your gullibility</li><li>Your patience with chores (NOT)</li><li>Your gorgeous hair</li><li>Your newly-hairy legs (and armpits)</li><li>Your desire to look nice (you even wear collared shirts <i>without me asking</i>)</li><li>Your 3 showers a day to ensure you don't stink</li><li>Your stink</li><li>Your fixation with stuff that will prevent you from stinking (primarily Axe products)</li><li>Your honesty after you've lied</li><li>Your understanding nature about our limits on video games (NOT)</li><li>Your independence when it comes to academics</li><li>Your ability to feed yourself </li><li>Your penchant for sleeping until noon (if we let you)</li><li>Your love of shoe technology (Beckers are weird, honey, you got it honest)</li><li>Your adoration of George's "poodle gluteals"</li><li>Your marvelous mechanical mind</li></ol></div>Unless I continue this tradition into your adulthood (which might be weird), I'll only get to write two more such birthday letters. It makes me regret even more the ones I missed in 2018 and 2019, when taking care of myself took all my energy. I am so proud to be your mom. I am so proud of you! I love you just the way you are. Nothing you could ever do or say or be could make me love you any more or any less. I know that's hard for you to understand. I know that's why you lie sometimes (why we all do), but I'm going to keep saying it so you will know that you ARE enough. Just the way you are. <br /><br />All my best love,<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div>Mom</div></div></div>Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-27726039675960214802018-06-10T10:38:00.001-05:002018-06-10T13:31:40.142-05:00To my second baby on his 8th birthday (ahem, which was nearly 7 months ago):<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">D</span><b>ear</b> <span style="font-size: large;">S</span><b>am,</b></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0wgFXBDL2MCI11Vice70gR2GBRMI6ooMph0ACC1FSeSDKQX3UXuVIItlepgiwzWNgzyRsz6BY4WPta1CIktm_9sR3tqq3SvB5Cn_TEz0f1AkpDmHiuGseQ701ooZVADJE0tx/s1600/IMG-7622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="917" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0wgFXBDL2MCI11Vice70gR2GBRMI6ooMph0ACC1FSeSDKQX3UXuVIItlepgiwzWNgzyRsz6BY4WPta1CIktm_9sR3tqq3SvB5Cn_TEz0f1AkpDmHiuGseQ701ooZVADJE0tx/s320/IMG-7622.jpg" width="261" /></a><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tonight we were reading <i>Ribsy</i> and you almost fell asleep 15 pages in. Which is fine -- we've read it at least once before. I turned the light off and then lay there with m</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">y nose in your hair, taking in all the fleeting little boy smells of scooters, basketballs, trampolines, Legos, and that nasty blanket that you call Sucky. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #666666;">I'm gonna have to call you out on this Sam: Can we please be done with Sucky? I mean, you hide it when your friends come over, and it smells like a combination of urine, feces, dirt, and barf. Please?</span><span style="color: #999999;"> </span></i></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Almost every night we do this, and almost every night I tell you that it is my favorite time of the day. I love reading to you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But now that you're 8, you like reading to me too. I am fascinated by your curiosity about words and your ability to extrapolate from the text and explain why something happened even if it's only implied in the story. We talk about connotation, denotation, and the range of negative, neutral, and positive that each word might hold. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_rtz8laPMXLNde5aFC-8z_AwdoCW-sPdjvd5RNHMme2qclsqUP4wUIyA7ocTSYhcRi7p2WR1V48a3LVRxY4IOk093Qr6AdJHbLavoP16_cexLV34dBzfx9dk1TclUB36ofbj/s1600/IMG-7616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="424" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_rtz8laPMXLNde5aFC-8z_AwdoCW-sPdjvd5RNHMme2qclsqUP4wUIyA7ocTSYhcRi7p2WR1V48a3LVRxY4IOk093Qr6AdJHbLavoP16_cexLV34dBzfx9dk1TclUB36ofbj/s320/IMG-7616.jpg" width="175" /></a><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Between the smell of your hair and the discussions of words and now the poodle that warms our feet, I just about burst. In these mostly quiet, still moments (which are extremely rare for you), I feel like we reconnect no matter what happened earlier in the day (and a LOT has been happening lately, unfortunately).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfQ6QuZcbk9LXMWTyuFvGZDdAIYV7_G4eSp9CL-CIBzZ79ordi-3Xg2bmyWE7IsnYndI3nnLdb-C2w3zQ5Tkxh5K8_jnLRjEzcjSyJa-fHYz6d5xldHVliw7J_7YypAf9pELS/s1600/IMG-7617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="722" data-original-width="736" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfQ6QuZcbk9LXMWTyuFvGZDdAIYV7_G4eSp9CL-CIBzZ79ordi-3Xg2bmyWE7IsnYndI3nnLdb-C2w3zQ5Tkxh5K8_jnLRjEzcjSyJa-fHYz6d5xldHVliw7J_7YypAf9pELS/s320/IMG-7617.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sam, we finally know a little bit more now about how differently you perceive the world. Every parent wonders how their child develops personality traits -- is it genetic? environmental? Are we totally messing this whole thing up? (This whole thing = YOU.) And w</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">hat I hope is that you see us trying ... maybe not <i>now</i> but perhaps in retrospect you will be able to look back and see that we are trying our absolute best to understand you, meet you where you are, and love you unconditionally. That last part we don't have to practice. It just </span><b style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-style: italic;">IS </b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">the case that we love you unconditionally, of course</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. But sometimes you try to tell me that you love me more than I love you, which is very sweet but not even remotely possible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The 8 and a half year old Sam is a <a href="https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/flibbertigibbet" target="_blank">flibbertigibbet</a>, a <span style="background-color: white; color: #636363;"><a href="http://www.wordcentral.com/cgi-bin/student?book=Student&va=will-o%27-the-wisp" target="_blank">will-o'-the-wisp</a>,</span><span style="background-color: white;"> and yes, sometimes even a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oku308DjiFo" target="_blank">clown</a> (the good kind -- go to minute 1:00 in the video linked to the word clown). And like Maria in <i>The Sound of Music</i> there are many a thing we know we'd like to tell you; many a thing you ought to understand ... but how do we make you stay? And listen to all we say? How do you keep a wave upon the sand?</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />Unlike the nuns' views about Maria, however, we know that you are not a problem to be solved. A challenge, yes. But never a problem. Even if we mistakenly cause you to feel that -- please know that it's only your <i>behavior</i> that is sometimes problematic, <i>not you</i>. Underneath all that is the Sweet Sam, who always makes me a mother's day card, always picks me out the best jewelry for birthdays and Christmas (I particularly like the necklace that you used for teething. You actually chipped a piece of it, and I love that imperfect stone so much.) My mom got a gold heart necklace once when I was a toddler, and I did the same thing (chomped down on it). I could never understand why she still wore that mashed-up-looking thing ... until I had one of my own. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think I'm </span><i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">starting </i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">to understand now that parenting -- like every other thing we might perceive as a problem or challenge -- is likely to be our best teacher in disguise. I have been a fan of <a href="https://gratefulness.org/resource/guest-house-rumi/" target="_blank">Rumi's </a></span><i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://gratefulness.org/resource/guest-house-rumi/" target="_blank">Guest House </a></i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://gratefulness.org/resource/guest-house-rumi/" target="_blank">poem</a> for a long time, and while I understood it on a theoretical level, I think it must take years to learn how to act like I believe it. If we have faith that God is omniscient and beneficent, then we must also remain faithful to the notion that he sends everything to optimize our outcomes. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">What that looks like for us as parents lately -- this year in particular -- is facing situations in which we have had opportunities to practice and develop patience, letting go, trying, and most importantly, focusing on your progress without expecting any certain ideal. That is hard to do, so God keeps giving us opportunities to practice these things through experience. We can't learn it all at once. We can't find every solution in a book or with a therapist or a doctor (or even with </span><b style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>five</i></b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> doctors). Sometimes we have to just wait and pray and start over again and again and again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thank you for being that kind of teacher. We love who you are and who you are shaping us to be,</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Sweet Sam ... we wouldn't want you to be any way except exactly how you are. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">So, let me reiterate what I say every night: "I love you so much. Nothing you could ever <u>do</u>, or <u>say</u>, or <u>be</u> could make me stop loving you. I hope you have sweet and long dreams ... If you need me, call me, and I'll be right here."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">With my biggest hugs and more love than ever,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Mama</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-79482627835467115322017-09-18T12:39:00.001-05:002017-09-18T12:41:41.114-05:00To my first on his thirteenth<table bgcolor="#00b4f0" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" id="m_3652907567383367681Header-Background" style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top; width: 100%;"><tbody style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top;">
<tr style="border-collapse: collapse; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px;"><td style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_3652907567383367681centered" style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: top; width: 612px;"><tbody id="m_3652907567383367681Poem-Part-One" style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top;">
<tr style="border-collapse: collapse; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px;"><td colspan="7" style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><table bgcolor="#f6f5f4" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top; width: 612px;"><tbody style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top;">
<tr style="border-collapse: collapse; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px;"><td id="m_3652907567383367681Poem-Header" style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 54px;"><h1 id="m_3652907567383367681Poem-Title" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: rgb(80, 80, 80) !important; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 42px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: -1px; line-height: 48px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-spacing: -2px;">
Dear John,</h1>
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You are a teenager now, and nobody told me this would happen. They said, "Time flies" or "You'll blink and he'll be grown" or "Savor it ... pretty soon he'll be gone and you'll wonder what happened!" And I rolled my eyes and thought, "Yeah right. They don't have to live with it."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMbgRQXcsS5fIXVEMD_UY_jkGuty3kb7HHqGT3fNWOt3OYXZslJG4XVByB-Oi98H5maUEpSKtnTzLkKp9qPMIR-u_miLHGHVXDaTxJMi9RvTVLZx_-FduoL47tLcF4cHzEBcY/s1600/45550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMbgRQXcsS5fIXVEMD_UY_jkGuty3kb7HHqGT3fNWOt3OYXZslJG4XVByB-Oi98H5maUEpSKtnTzLkKp9qPMIR-u_miLHGHVXDaTxJMi9RvTVLZx_-FduoL47tLcF4cHzEBcY/s320/45550.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The truth is that in raising children, the moments are long but the years are short. And now thirteen of them have disappeared. Now you only have to endure five more years of torture from us before you flap away.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gKNB2guajn5gnjeQ3cQ0t6N_IkJiJuJpkb6q4EbnNDqeyP7YQuM0RtSuIhwZ1FqooV7DW6oRnfzMaUrvZZX480H9hx0UbrnzdS_4ZzmxXCxYV5he5FQwMIY9ihPGnad4zkms/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1219" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gKNB2guajn5gnjeQ3cQ0t6N_IkJiJuJpkb6q4EbnNDqeyP7YQuM0RtSuIhwZ1FqooV7DW6oRnfzMaUrvZZX480H9hx0UbrnzdS_4ZzmxXCxYV5he5FQwMIY9ihPGnad4zkms/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="243" /></a>When you were smaller, I used these letters to record all of your changes and growth. These days, there is certainly growth, but it is harder to document because it is subtler, more nuanced ... much more difficult to describe. For one thing, there's your hair, which has always been amazing, but now you seem to have opinions about it much much more than ever before. You have recently gone from long, to medium, to short in a matter of a month. Now it is short and apparently needs a certain product called "Bedhead Manipulator" that comes in a 2-ounce tub for $20. You're 13, and we spend $10/ounce on your hair products. That's love, buddy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxnrixSPiTTIhANeK55YQ9gFsUaVzD0Q8nzBE_b83XnjicyUFgVYFki-dJnz3U7q2VczE3mEZw-39tqy2-QsF-wgD79oVLIwAB4anaBoEAQIaTZarTDQo_xmQm_BOkD8IQ4_O/s1600/heartjohn.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="496" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxnrixSPiTTIhANeK55YQ9gFsUaVzD0Q8nzBE_b83XnjicyUFgVYFki-dJnz3U7q2VczE3mEZw-39tqy2-QsF-wgD79oVLIwAB4anaBoEAQIaTZarTDQo_xmQm_BOkD8IQ4_O/s320/heartjohn.png" width="276" /></a></div>
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You have a couple of jobs (mowing lawns) which earn you a little money, and generally you do not complain too much about this work. But we are still trying to tame the drama surrounding the chore of emptying the dishwasher.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qFaF8GGmmC1zotSqC1rI4Miwvfxg-utl3zvhnbv82f-NqMYR81deCLKw6FolyK9n3xmiroSxyc1607G4tOJsKoo0FgCPpaNHVknTSg7oScj3PENKuBs-Oh98nsY5E55yzXy2/s1600/IMG-3577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1482" data-original-width="1482" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qFaF8GGmmC1zotSqC1rI4Miwvfxg-utl3zvhnbv82f-NqMYR81deCLKw6FolyK9n3xmiroSxyc1607G4tOJsKoo0FgCPpaNHVknTSg7oScj3PENKuBs-Oh98nsY5E55yzXy2/s320/IMG-3577.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHoZsZVRa4g1o-lcJ6DEa16JzkzY7eD7anbAPtkSCNwfZQjWIoEPwN3WcH7dl9LNuN9Q_V2fIIIj5ckvvIzVS9Lkvvl2d5jH3h6ufoWPHXTBXdpz8H-xCoGo6JfxqVNumM3kj/s1600/IMG-3701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHoZsZVRa4g1o-lcJ6DEa16JzkzY7eD7anbAPtkSCNwfZQjWIoEPwN3WcH7dl9LNuN9Q_V2fIIIj5ckvvIzVS9Lkvvl2d5jH3h6ufoWPHXTBXdpz8H-xCoGo6JfxqVNumM3kj/s320/IMG-3701.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
And the drama around photos.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhal9jPD-YmuqawZfNijTKO-YNSjZT213n8Wa5-25QrQ_KRGqJ9VMeydTmTPGZ47qovAf_nOGqeAG7FasV6yPvgJkaJIaLz1u9Cmv68EzoV4OthrQd6SHSiFEqvRi0XM5q4rUSq/s1600/John2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1251" data-original-width="1341" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhal9jPD-YmuqawZfNijTKO-YNSjZT213n8Wa5-25QrQ_KRGqJ9VMeydTmTPGZ47qovAf_nOGqeAG7FasV6yPvgJkaJIaLz1u9Cmv68EzoV4OthrQd6SHSiFEqvRi0XM5q4rUSq/s320/John2.png" width="320" /></a></div>
And the drama around eletronics.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRP-Mdc_zx9WTTFkvVJyMGB8E6DehrJKrjinrucGemJVfzn0q_emtcvxR1TolzS2dusIETCpLrUmMACCw69t98wMrdPOtUi6xzwZfeF271mvrBH_Ul_qNd3V4AVbL8LCOJz0RA/s1600/IMG-4086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRP-Mdc_zx9WTTFkvVJyMGB8E6DehrJKrjinrucGemJVfzn0q_emtcvxR1TolzS2dusIETCpLrUmMACCw69t98wMrdPOtUi6xzwZfeF271mvrBH_Ul_qNd3V4AVbL8LCOJz0RA/s320/IMG-4086.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And the drama around haircuts.<br />
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And the drama around ear drops/ear doctors.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5RyVhLDrosM12gnNiDVmKI7djvPF24xhyphenhyphenPjC2ZdHLLlNS1-jAdwC9FMRcwaPBG4yyp5Y_kXWTG0m9NxQsw2q_s24-a-Y556TRryXBiprj6H8UGexNNL52zOabrKbSqkz2RKy/s1600/John.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="329" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5RyVhLDrosM12gnNiDVmKI7djvPF24xhyphenhyphenPjC2ZdHLLlNS1-jAdwC9FMRcwaPBG4yyp5Y_kXWTG0m9NxQsw2q_s24-a-Y556TRryXBiprj6H8UGexNNL52zOabrKbSqkz2RKy/s320/John.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Where did you get all this dramatic flair (and hair)? 😉<br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; text-align: center;">Lately, you have wanted me to scratch your back before bed. We no longer read stories anymore because you have long been reading on your own, but I miss that. It is, however, making me treasure that time with your brother, so I guess I'm learning something from being your mom. I have been saying yes to this back-scratching request because I know that the time when you will want me around is fleeting, so I'm trying to savor it. </span><br />
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John -- your dad and I are SO proud of you. As I wrote in your birthday card ... we love you AND we like you! Here is a poem that in many ways encapsulates what I want to say to/about you ... just ignore the bits about portobellos, activism, and being a pescetarian and look for the similarities, including a love of raspberries, a history of hair changes, and my efforts to keep you alive.<br />
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Happy 13th birthday John-John! Don't flap away too quickly.<br />
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All my love,<br />
Mom</td></tr>
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<span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "georgia";"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://academyofamericanpoets.cmail19.com/t/y-l-hiututy-tylhbtkkt-o/&source=gmail&ust=1505652435366000&usg=AFQjCNEjjKFzFaIdKwrvs5UoZJPx8S76Dg" href="http://academyofamericanpoets.cmail19.com/t/y-l-hiututy-tylhbtkkt-o/" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 42px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: inherit !important; line-height: 48px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">Hours Days Years Unmoor Their Orbits</a></span></h1>
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<span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "helvetica";"><b style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://academyofamericanpoets.cmail19.com/t/y-l-hiututy-tylhbtkkt-b/&source=gmail&ust=1505652435366000&usg=AFQjCNF0QXzunjpo-KN-WqC7vkd-j-fJyQ" href="http://academyofamericanpoets.cmail19.com/t/y-l-hiututy-tylhbtkkt-b/" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit !important; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">Rachel Zucker</a></b></span></h5>
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" id="m_3652907567383367681Body-Background" style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: top; width: 100%;"><tbody style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top;">
<tr style="border-collapse: collapse; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px;"><td style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><table bgcolor="#f6f5f4" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_3652907567383367681centered" style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: top; width: 612px;"><tbody id="m_3652907567383367681Poem-Part-Two" style="border-collapse: collapse; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top;">
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tonight I’m cleaning baby portobellos<br />
for you, my young activist</div>
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wiping the dirty tops with a damp cloth<br />
as carefully as I used to rinse raspberries</div>
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for you to adorn your fingertips<br />
before eating each blood-red prize</div>
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these days you rarely look me in the eye<br />
& your long shagged hair hides your smile</div>
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I don’t expect you to remember or<br />
understand the many ways I’ve kept you</div>
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alive or the life my love for you<br />
has made me live</div>
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<h2 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-family: "helvetica";"><b style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">About This <span class="il" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Poem</span></b></span></h2>
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<div class="m_3652907567383367681dek" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 30px; padding: 0px !important; vertical-align: baseline;">
“I wrote this <span class="il" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">poem</span> for and about my oldest son when he was about nine years old and had decided to become a pescetarian after reading a book about the meatpacking industry. My son is now about to turn eighteen and will leave for college this summer. We are still dancing the beautiful, painful dance of mother-child separation and attachment, different steps, different haircuts, same love.”<br />
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">—Rachel Zucker</em></div>
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Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-74027240958565960272017-06-02T12:40:00.001-05:002017-06-02T12:40:20.980-05:00To my 2nd on his seventh and a half<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dear Sam,</span></div>
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<a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/LubDmymTG1GwOz1xW1MbDCkP3NW30B9QWcqDCmsALfioAzrHazVzZn7v7x9Ik3XfycvX7iARRaT8T3L7s3J_dfHMGSCzGBb28zzNhrSkN9-3_QM-zJ4V7zywG6LuziClhNgY9W8D" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/LubDmymTG1GwOz1xW1MbDCkP3NW30B9QWcqDCmsALfioAzrHazVzZn7v7x9Ik3XfycvX7iARRaT8T3L7s3J_dfHMGSCzGBb28zzNhrSkN9-3_QM-zJ4V7zywG6LuziClhNgY9W8D" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Happy 7.5 buddy! I failed to get a letter out to you on your actual 7th birthday, so this will have to suffice. I want these letters to be a Yearly You Review. So, here we go.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well, first of all, you’re the best 7.5 year old ever. Especially if we’re measuring by wit, charm, snuggliness, size of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: line-through; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">inappropriate</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> vocabulary, etc. You have had such an awesome year in first grade -- so much better than kindergarten. For a long time I was worried about not hearing from the teacher because we never got update emails. I was afraid to contact her and ask how it was going. I wanted to believe no news was good news … and it was! It’s like you just figured it out. It’s no fun to act out and get in trouble in school, and you came to that conclusion on your own, and we are SO proud of you for that. Some adults are still figuring out what types of behaviors to avoid in order to stay out of trouble, so you’re well on your way, love.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: black; float: right; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/vn45ZZLNASZJfrZbKPrp1b-4OWSM0FdDa70bIf2q2V7SZAmOLy2q9D7hvA_-QcKgR5VAHysdh2Aq5dfTOuYeguE_Z_KXKy-rK761W1KFe4NIlBLelAQ4SLcqtk4vJksuTCn4XEvZ" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="320" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the things that your dad and I love best about you, Sam, is that you get really into the things that you do. For example, you love baseball so much. You love every position you play, and it is so much fun to watch you. You don’t love school, but you’re proud of your reading ability, art work, friends, games learned at PE, new books from the media center, etc. And at home, your Lego creations are out of this world. You’ll make something and then say, “Look mom! This looks</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> like it came from a box … with </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">directions</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!” </span></div>
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<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pSOTjUZ6UXwLvoqV9hYpSUkdWErJCvzsZ0QbBRiPfddbjLihz010EhuD-BuTqpZdZsO3ohcSO3q6hdmf3Uf8LNJJZKgxZAEUhi4jCzLv_X_jTdUJFCdAW0sZ5P0BduXu0IqU9P7n" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pSOTjUZ6UXwLvoqV9hYpSUkdWErJCvzsZ0QbBRiPfddbjLihz010EhuD-BuTqpZdZsO3ohcSO3q6hdmf3Uf8LNJJZKgxZAEUhi4jCzLv_X_jTdUJFCdAW0sZ5P0BduXu0IqU9P7n" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Seven-year-old you is very practical. This week that I’m writing to you is your last week of first grade. On the first day of the last week, I asked if y’all were doing any work or if you were just playing this week, and you replied, “We have a crap ton of word searches. Like, three a day.” The practicality comes out in your attitude about attending baseball practice, school, having necessary medical procedures (e.g., blood draws -- you just stick out your arm), etc. And when dad tells one of his crazy stories, you can tell the difference between the real and the imaginary. You aren’t gullible. You can tease and be teased, and I love that about you.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYX49DNUHkVDooqPqMlyl21JgXHsSwrAUU0ei9JkAD0kvf0GmWRZv_lMpvhGcs8W-_lxYi1SGLEa3eq9xGfstmkmOCTPH8Dg0uNM7p1NDDLad2QbKf-nAqBMQy4CiqMm7Al7d/s1600/CE69F2BE-C3C8-42C6-AD44-7713FECC6138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYX49DNUHkVDooqPqMlyl21JgXHsSwrAUU0ei9JkAD0kvf0GmWRZv_lMpvhGcs8W-_lxYi1SGLEa3eq9xGfstmkmOCTPH8Dg0uNM7p1NDDLad2QbKf-nAqBMQy4CiqMm7Al7d/s320/CE69F2BE-C3C8-42C6-AD44-7713FECC6138.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You and I have done a lot of artsy events this year, and I have cherished that time with you --The Nutcracker, two plays, and all of our movie nights. We have also made more than a few visits to Dairy Queen and Orange Leaf. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You and your dad have a very special bond too, and we both get such a kick out of the fact that you say you want to live with us forever. One night you had a nightmare, and you came downstairs and crawled in between me and dad. I asked if you wanted me to go back upstairs with you (because you do love your bed!), and you said, "Well, thanks mom, but since I'm already here, I think I'll just make a spot."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You have definitely made a spot on our hearts Sweet Sam. We could not be prouder of you or more in love with your snuggliness, fiestiness, and life commentary. You can live with us for as long as you want, love -- you will always be our baby.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With all my love,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mama</span></div>
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Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-66158251809409122302016-10-27T23:10:00.000-05:002016-10-27T23:10:33.247-05:00To my first on his 12th<br />
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<span style="font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dear John,</span></div>
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<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/BYCA-iOMD1Vx9B_AANrDalBwimampt37Lv9L5Hxa1PzXyYi5GYRPvzBWDs9_376ZF4ZGe92yBm3fePBBXv-k1TJVwfpZ_ySyzn2h61bx6OBuPByEVOeCmbwzgqmMhFm8hQTfEiSp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/BYCA-iOMD1Vx9B_AANrDalBwimampt37Lv9L5Hxa1PzXyYi5GYRPvzBWDs9_376ZF4ZGe92yBm3fePBBXv-k1TJVwfpZ_ySyzn2h61bx6OBuPByEVOeCmbwzgqmMhFm8hQTfEiSp" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="400" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Every year, my letter gets later and later because every year I have to consider more carefully to discern what is the best way to say happy birthday to someone who has very likely changed my life more than any other person on the planet. It is now October 27th, a full 5 weeks after your 12th birthday, and I’ve waited long enough, so, I guess I’ll keep it simple and just say, “</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Happy 12th birthday!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">” (I’ll leave off my new pet name for you in an effort to save your reputation.) </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 10.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">POOKY BEAR! (sorry.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">During and after my pregnancy with you, everybody around us said, “This is baby is special” or “It’s a boy, and he’s lucky; I feel it!” We thought perhaps people said this to all people starting families, but usually it wasn’t just passing chatter. These people </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">knew</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that you were special and/or lucky, and they had specific reasons:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">your name had special meaning</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">your birth date was lucky</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">it was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fortunate</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that a bird had pooped on my head during my pregnancy because that’s considered extra special good luck in Africa</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You would bring us out of our joblessness (and truly, your dad found a job in the delivery room of the hospital where you were born), etc. etc. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And even now you do seem to have some “lucky duck” super power. You have many times been randomly placed on sports teams that are highly successful, you got into the Spanish immersion school in Nashville even though we didn’t live in that neighborhood, and of course there is the “Parking Fairy” situation, wherein every time I’m with you, we get a parking spot that could rival even the motorcycles or differently abled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But really John, you </span><span style="font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">are</span><span style="font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the amazing parking spot we landed 12 years ago. We have moved numerous times since then, and you have had some moments of not seeming so amazing (haven’t we all?), but you still make us feel pretty lucky. Nevermind that you are in the throes of some weird 6th grade/ tween desire to seem idiotic and angry … I still think you’re clever, and I </span><span style="font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">know</span><span style="font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that you’re happy even though you often seem full of angst. Some of that is age-related, but some of that is, unfortunately, inherited from me -- like our proclivity for agonizing over decision making and worrying too much about what other people think. But those are few and far between. Most of the time we have to tell you repeatedly to stop whistling or singing because you happily bop around the house clueless to other forms of human life, just in your own world -- and that world seems relatively peaceful and content. When it’s not, and you are disturbed, you are starting to recognize it more and be conscious of the disturbance. And that’s how I know that you are growing up. Because little kids are less aware … they just act in order to get their needs met (appropriately or not). But I am starting to see forethought before you act and analysis afterward, and that is simultaneously beautiful and terrifying.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here are a few of the things that you find particularly disturbing at this stage of your life, and I think you’ll see that these truly run the gamut from childhood fears to grownup stressors:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLpFjBLiHtOJyR_K_IxdMFbMoBNdlViH6GDhKHiBYgqGrrtD3UxcFIqq5pRfaWn8FMN9PXUztX57fSooSPD-V30YcT5smBbR8WyJGxQJW0k3F8wKgJUPCUQWjpQ_rKqHbA04QP/s1600/LAMBEAU1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLpFjBLiHtOJyR_K_IxdMFbMoBNdlViH6GDhKHiBYgqGrrtD3UxcFIqq5pRfaWn8FMN9PXUztX57fSooSPD-V30YcT5smBbR8WyJGxQJW0k3F8wKgJUPCUQWjpQ_rKqHbA04QP/s320/LAMBEAU1.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anything your brother says</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anything your brother does</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Any way your brother looks at you</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Any noise your brother makes (I won’t go on, I think you can see the pattern)</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mondays</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Obligations</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My calling you pet names </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 10.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">POOKY BEAR</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Puke</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The idea that people puke</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The idea that there are germs out there that cause people to puke</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The fact that you have to live in a house with people who might be carrying germs that cause people to puke.</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Band</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Getting locked out of the house (sorry, bud!)</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The closet door and what’s behind it</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ventriloquists’ dummies </span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your very own collection of Nutcrackers, which has now been removed from your room</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation-now/2016/09/28/what-we-know-creepy-clown-reports-across-nation/91171858/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Clowns</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, not surprisingly</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The following questions:</span></div>
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<ul style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: circle; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do you have homework?”</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: circle; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How was school?”</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: circle; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Did you brush your teeth?”</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: circle; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Have you washed your hands?”</span></div>
</li>
</ul>
</ul>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And here are some things you LOVE, which tow the line between childhood and adolescence:</span></div>
<ul style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Video games</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Reading the same books repeatedly: </span></div>
</li>
<ul style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: circle; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wimpy Kid </span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: circle; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Big Nate</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: circle; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sisters</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: circle; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Far Side comic compilations</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: circle; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Guinness Books (yes plural) of World Records</span></div>
</li>
</ul>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anything </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nike</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Expensive socks</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The idea of owning more electronics</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Drones</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nerf guns</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your GoPro camera</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sleepovers</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When your brother sleeps in</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When your brother has a playdate</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mandarin oranges</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ham and salami sandwiches with jalapenos, purple onion, lettuce, tomato, and honey mustard</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The idea of a pet dog, cat, bird, ferret, rat, or pot-bellied pig</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nanny’s pies</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Packages from Macy</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Gentium Book Basic'; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Breakfast at Panera (you always order a breakfast quiche/souffle and a scone)</span></div>
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<a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Mz6X78kj5k6BF0vJSLBAWDQrmXTBctqdWK9cQr2tYYeuiN86ECKDKOYj-ut1qW03kIjJ5PmtowwFRCH9R6JvwXn2uxlzl9e2wECUC7szrf789gjz8JtDpaqJhsHDrY_HcpIZusIV" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Mz6X78kj5k6BF0vJSLBAWDQrmXTBctqdWK9cQr2tYYeuiN86ECKDKOYj-ut1qW03kIjJ5PmtowwFRCH9R6JvwXn2uxlzl9e2wECUC7szrf789gjz8JtDpaqJhsHDrY_HcpIZusIV" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="260" /></a><span style="font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So overall, I think that you are, as always, both exactly where you should be and, in our opinion at least, WAY beyond. We love you even when you have those drama fits, we are proud of you even when you whine about how running sprints at soccer is </span><span style="font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">RUINING</span><span style="font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> your life, we are happy for you even when we yell across the house for you to PLEASE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF PETER PAUL AND MARY STOP WHISTLING MEGHAN TRAINOR SONGS ON REPEAT. We wouldn’t trade your lucky duckness for anything, and I can’t wait to see what it brings you next.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With all my love,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mom</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">p.s. I am amazed by your vocabulary. Just in the last week, I’ve heard you use: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">gullible, assemble, modify, sensitivity</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">lag</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "gentium book basic"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">! </span></div>
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Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-60713200276047691062016-01-15T13:24:00.001-06:002016-01-15T13:27:16.095-06:00To My 2nd on his 6th (or, at least within two months of it)<h3>
Dear Sam,</h3>
Happy 6th, My Little! We are as proud as you are for surpassing the age of "babies." <b><i><u>Yay you!</u></i></b><br />
<br />
Now, go back to your old self; you know, the one that <b><i>was </i></b>a baby and <b><i>rode </i></b>on my back and <b><i>yanked </i></b>at my hair and <b><i>woke </i></b>me up all night and <b><i>stole </i></b>my heart. <b><i>Past tense</i></b>. :-(<br />
<br />
Actually, you still <b><i>have</i></b> my heart, I <b><i>let </i></b>you ride on my back when we're hiking, and even though you're not a hair-yanking baby anymore, I don't mind that you <b><i>wake </i></b>me up in the night (about once a <strike>month</strike> week). Moreover, you still <b><i>have </i></b>my heart, and I <b><i>will not </i></b>EVER ask for it back (*note <b><i>future tense)</i></b>. <br />
<br />
Not even if the emails from the principal continue. My favorite from-the-principal email subject lines have been, "a kissing incident" and simply, "behavior."<br />
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(I know that verb tenses are the last thing on your mind, but notice them anyway: regrets in the past; hopes/promises for now and always).</div>
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Sam, right now you are a study in contrast: Our most cuddly kid but also our most volatile. You struggle with impulse control, especially in high-emotion situations. Luckily, I am relatively understanding, and your dad has lots of experience managing high-needs kids <strike>and adults</strike> at work <strike>and at home</strike>. </div>
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So, I want to make the rest of this positive and about YOU (which is hard for me, Love: I like to spin things with hyperbole and negativity by default). However, for you, I'm making an exception ...</div>
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The 6 year old Sam I know is confident, analytical, and curious. I think the confidence part is overriding the others at this point, but we know that it will eventually serve you well, and thus we make attempts to revere it. You love to play games -- chess with "Dadda," John, our kidsitter, Grampy; GO FISH and OLD MAID with all of us, MEMORY with Macy, JENGA with Nanny and Grampy -- your scope of work is dizzying, truly! The only advice I'll give you about improving this aspect of your free time is that you should probably consider alternatives to "You're cheating!" when competitors seem to be getting the best of you.</div>
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Your analysis of everything (complete with exemplary hand gestures) is something that I would be remiss to overlook, so I definitely want you to know that you are constantly considering every angle of every situation. This keeps us on our toes. Most obviously this character trait is presented in your eating habits, so that mostly demands our attention. I know that avoiding "the turkey with the crust" and the soy sauce with the red top is of utmost importance, and I don't take those jobs lightly. Luckily, your dad doesn't either ... especially since he's the grocery shopper. (I'm still working to figure out my superpower).</div>
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Finally, Sam, your curiosity is one of my favorite features of you. You want to know what everything means -- from vocabulary to major concepts like death. Recently, I was reading a parenting book called <i>Why Can't You Catch Me Being Good</i> and the author told about how each of her two sons, when they were five, asked her to marry him. I teared up because neither of my two sons had done that. I sat for a long time thinking about that and feeling sorry for myself because whatever I had done thus far in both of your lives had not made you consider me in that manner. And then the next day -- the VERY next day -- we were snuggling after playing a vicious game of air hockey (without the air), and you asked me the same. I nearly melted into the couch cushion. And so, like the writer of the book, I told you that I was already married to your dad and that unfortunately, you'd have to find another girl. You looked so sad and stared up at me with those squinched up eyebrows and said, "But WHY? Why can't you marry me too. I love you too! Not just dad loves you!" </div>
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I know, sweet. I know it even when you scream that you hate me. Because that's how it works with us. We love each other no matter what -- another of your favorite sayings. (The hate thing still stings though, so maybe work on that a little?)</div>
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Dadda and I are so proud of how hard you work to be the kid that you want to be. The one who controls himself, uses words not hands, and apologizes, or better yet, doesn't have to. You have us wrapped around your little finger so much so that even when you bring that goshawful rancid blanket ("Sucky") into our bed at 2 a.m., we just scooch over and make way. Even when you then sleep like a Starfish on cocaine, we don't kick you out. The space in our bed and in our hearts has already been made for you, and even though you are not <i>a baby</i>, you'll always be <i>our </i>baby.</div>
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With all my love,</div>
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Mom</div>
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p.s. Y.M.B.C.F.A. (don't tell!)</div>
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Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-52007205228047257762015-10-19T11:48:00.000-05:002015-10-19T11:48:08.556-05:00To My First On His EleventhDear John,<br />
<br />
Happy birthday! I am glad to say that your first personal celebration in Ames, Iowa has followed your very-smooth transition to our new home. I don't think there any 11-year olds out there that are happier than you (except maybe those without little brothers). Recently you told me that you feel as if we never even lived in Nashville, and I'm choosing to take that as a sign that you're adjusting quite well.<br />
<br />
This birthday was preceded by a summer/fall like no other. We uprooted from all that you've ever known and attempted to start making a home in a new state. You seem to like it here, and given that there are about 3.75 boys per block of our neighborhood, I think you're justified in that regard.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxD1DOdcAcR0phwZZEUx_kpsKwPulMkR7U7XDl8hqMYmE9UEze_YQnsR-_zf3KYtqTFOMS0RdJex9rtpd1KVnaYsaDJL057uSb6O0iwJasQGrWNly-dgBfTne1J87e8nwor5Pd/s1600/P7160112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxD1DOdcAcR0phwZZEUx_kpsKwPulMkR7U7XDl8hqMYmE9UEze_YQnsR-_zf3KYtqTFOMS0RdJex9rtpd1KVnaYsaDJL057uSb6O0iwJasQGrWNly-dgBfTne1J87e8nwor5Pd/s320/P7160112.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
If we had stayed in Nashville, you would've been the newbie at a huge middle school ... as it stands now, you're in the senior-most class at your (and Sam's, to your chagrin) elementary school, where there is no Spanish, no homework, a brand new building with a huge gymnasium, and a 5th grade band, in which you are one of the alto saxophone players. You gave up soccer (hopefully just for this season!) to try your hand at ice skating, which you hope will lead to hockey. I really would rather you just play soccer, but here I am sitting at the rink watching you and writing this in three layers of clothes. As with everything, I will always support you, even if it's cold and I worry that my orthodontic investment may not have been so sound. But I do like to watch you work so diligently to stop, turn, and glide, front and back, with a teacher who looks like an older version of Tonya Harding. Dad and I have been jokingly calling you "Nancy Kerrigan," but the funny is lost on you.<br />
<br />
Though you are happy most of the time, you do have a great deal of angst connected to your relationship with Sam, ever the typical "little brother." Yesterday morning while waiting on the carpool pickup, you and he we're arguing about who should "get to" water my fall-front-porch mums. He was adamant that there were two mums and two kids, but you were adamant that the original chore was yours. Fair enough: We settled on an agreement wherein both children "got to" water the mums (reader, I know: I'm brilliant ... I also get them to eat pancakes with all kinds of hidden gems like ground flax and hemp seeds, but that's another post for another time when it's nobody's birthday). During Sam's turn to water the mums, you called me over for a "conversation in private" (your words). Here's how it went:<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj44Td287aYuHWad2JloDOKKcEXf1fPsN_dnhoBQxHq3vzCT8p-Ff0228Uva-uWUewrWPH5Y-GJnKAb3_nQAHdpoaRdeBypm8UfWRied4RR3LANQZXmR26oSCI7tPXWqMwZOsRO/s1600/P7280146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj44Td287aYuHWad2JloDOKKcEXf1fPsN_dnhoBQxHq3vzCT8p-Ff0228Uva-uWUewrWPH5Y-GJnKAb3_nQAHdpoaRdeBypm8UfWRied4RR3LANQZXmR26oSCI7tPXWqMwZOsRO/s320/P7280146.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<b>You: I'm like <i>furious</i>.</b><br />
<i>Me: Why are you so mad? </i><br />
<b>You: Sam.</b><br />
<i>Me: Can you say more about it?</i><br />
<b>You: I feel like I want to <u>yank </u>off his head and <u>punt </u>it to Mars.</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1binjQlRXO3GvriT2MAjP6Px87ukpfUWuS43YFvAxo2rRJfMABMBs660LFsLF6duhgUPgCVQOOVCuwB-IgcnaB3yyIL0CjqKcWffknKAA9lnXS3oEx2ITNp1ilLCRGJJD3ByZ/s1600/John+%2526+Sam+Easter+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1binjQlRXO3GvriT2MAjP6Px87ukpfUWuS43YFvAxo2rRJfMABMBs660LFsLF6duhgUPgCVQOOVCuwB-IgcnaB3yyIL0CjqKcWffknKAA9lnXS3oEx2ITNp1ilLCRGJJD3ByZ/s320/John+%2526+Sam+Easter+2015.jpg" width="320" /></a>Wow. So, OK, I didn't exactly like the violence, but what amazing descriptive language!<br />
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This is not normal though: Most of the time, you are quite a content kiddo, and this pleases us entirely. Throughout this last year, I've seen you develop into a truly "big kid." I can see the shadow edges of adolescence creeping in to darken the door, but right now, you're pretty much just delightful. <br />
<br />
Here's a profile of newly 11 year-old JEB:<br />
<ul>
<li>You still love Legos. For your birthday, Macy and Glendaddy got you a Star Wars set with over 400 pieces, and upon opening you said, "Hmmm, 421 pieces. That should take approximately an hour and a half to knock out."</li>
<li>You also love electronics. Nanny and Grampy got you a "quadcopter" drone with a camera, with which you spend hours recording our neighborhood. This has led to some interesting discussions about privacy.</li>
<li>Your adoration of wheels continues. You seem to live on your bike during daylight non-school hours, and you love to build elaborate Hot Wheels race tracks for your brother (elaborate meaning, for example, a track that cascades down the stairs into the basement, through a loop, and catapults the cars into the recycle bin).</li>
<li>Your reading skills are fine, but your teacher, Dad, and I wish that you expand your repertoire a bit (which means, anything except <i>Diary of a Wimpy Kid). </i></li>
<li>You have friends galore. Just on our street, there are Caleb, Max, Ellio, Nico, and just a couple blocks away are Jonathan, Caden, and Elias. We've been allowing you to bike to their homes as long as it's before 6 p.m.</li>
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John, there are so many fascinating qualities of your 11-year-old self, but quite possibly the one that takes the cake is your new ability to see other people (and their feelings/emotions) as separate from your own. This is such an important life skill buddy, and as I navigate our "everyday" with you, I see that you're developing into a caring individual who considers others even when it's inconvenient. THAT is WJWD!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMdSZBdCvML_Jw0zHKUmhqX1oxIFtD9RABNOzl4iKZPoh49-Vw2OTVM7lKuadxiurCthfmAfwFMfrdXvqUiMLMSKeYdyNvq-bGjWO4TrsY03tQ0cHT4SN8l2NZcCiu3oWcqR-/s1600/P1010177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBMdSZBdCvML_Jw0zHKUmhqX1oxIFtD9RABNOzl4iKZPoh49-Vw2OTVM7lKuadxiurCthfmAfwFMfrdXvqUiMLMSKeYdyNvq-bGjWO4TrsY03tQ0cHT4SN8l2NZcCiu3oWcqR-/s320/P1010177.JPG" width="320" /></a>To illustrate, I'll conclude with this final anecdote: Recently we downloaded Minecraft for your to play on my tablet computer. It's something you've wanted for awhile. It's perfect for you and your engineering mind. But I started to notice that after you had played it and transitioned to another activity, you were agitated. So after one particularly extreme incident (involving your brother, no surprise), I sent you up to your room to quietly reflect on what had happened. After about 15 minutes, you came down, calm and even-keeled. You proceeded to inform me that the problem is this: After playing Minecraft (or other involved games), your brain continues to think about strategy. And so basically anything that anyone says to you immediately post-game is an interruption of that strategizing, and it is met with agitated response.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJuysUTDIfLzcAGiy4XiG-ktqNHzyO-_rNXjHRU99h2ptCKVcGt7XUsnos7kOaaDakqJov9GXcqHv-neV5TnpxnmfBLBTL6YYOvcrmlCjJAlVvdrsikrw4STaMwhKL6JOCCZ-/s1600/P1010233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJuysUTDIfLzcAGiy4XiG-ktqNHzyO-_rNXjHRU99h2ptCKVcGt7XUsnos7kOaaDakqJov9GXcqHv-neV5TnpxnmfBLBTL6YYOvcrmlCjJAlVvdrsikrw4STaMwhKL6JOCCZ-/s320/P1010233.JPG" width="320" /></a>BINGO. Even I, with my hyper-analytical mind, had not come up with such a specific and ideal explanation of what was happening. I had told you that I thought you were having trouble "transitioning from the screen world into the real world" but that I didn't know how to fully explain it. That kind of self awareness is something that I've rarely, if ever, seen from you in 10+ years. It's clearly a reflective skill marking a developmental milestone, and I'm so proud! It feels similar to when you grew those amazing bottom teeth in your first year of life, and I documented them here as well, proudly. <br />
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John-John: Every year I think that you have become a cooler kid. By the time you are 18 and ready to leave for college (OH GOSH: that's only 7 years away!!!), you'll be off the charts. You came out of the womb a 9.5/10 (APGAR), and you're doing a bang-up job of maintaining your excellence in all of the important categories. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhS1n6eqj_ngePKv9FFntSL9CrVbAiL44hdAuY0bfu4aKMteQBd_MHi1T-VJNuA0yWAEzyGqJtXBgGPF0geAxfbjsIRFxywtvF6sqtBTVZWURr3b25y-ZItBOc5pGboZxQEe5e/s1600/isla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhS1n6eqj_ngePKv9FFntSL9CrVbAiL44hdAuY0bfu4aKMteQBd_MHi1T-VJNuA0yWAEzyGqJtXBgGPF0geAxfbjsIRFxywtvF6sqtBTVZWURr3b25y-ZItBOc5pGboZxQEe5e/s320/isla.jpg" width="320" /></a>We cannot WAIT to see what you do with all of your energy, ingenuity, self-awareness, and passion (as long as it does NOT involve punting your brother -- or any of his main body parts -- to Mars). My daddy used to tell me that I was his "pride and joy," and I probably rolled my eyes ... but you, Buddy, are definitely my current definition of pride and joy, and I love watching you discover who you are becoming (and announce it to us) because it inspires me to be the kind of mom that can best support your efforts.<br />
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With all my love, hugs, and meat-finding fingers (I LOVE our inside joke!),<br />
Mama<br />
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<br />Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-58382406129240060502015-07-10T07:35:00.002-05:002015-07-10T07:35:24.472-05:00The Current Subtopics of My Life (DRAFT VERSION)I started this post MONTHS ago and never finished it. Now I can't remember the parts that I've left unfinished, but for purposes of posterity, I'm posting what I had started:<br />
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I am always trying to get my students to notice the subtopics in their reading. Very often, noticing a good heading (subtitle/topic, etc.) is a quite effective reading strategy for complex material. So with that in mind, tonight I shall try to update you on the <i>Subtopics of Our Lives</i> (runner up title for the "Day of Our Lives" soap opera, I'm sure). <br />
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<u>Soccer Season</u><br />
One of the predominant aspects of fall for me is now soccer. I grew up associating it with football, but soccer is so much healthier, methinks. Most crashing into one another leads to penalty, and no helmets are involved. I do still worry about the effects of headers, but then again ... there's always something, right? Do NOT google "headers and concussions" in an effort to educate me, please. I would like to remain blissfully ignorant for the next two weekends that I must endure this. <br />
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Sam and John are both high scorers on their teams. At Sam's age, this is mostly coincidence (he's one of the biggest and oldest in a league with a wide range of ages), but at John's age -- it's nothing short of completely spellbinding. I truly cannot believe that I birthed such athletes. <br />
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<u>Efforts toward the Education of Our Children</u><br />
Sam started a new school this fall, mostly out of convenience for his parents. He seems to be thriving there. We almost pulled him out because it was so much more expensive than his previous preschool, but then they offered him a "scholarship," and so we acquiesced. We're so impressionable. He comes home most days with happy tales of his exploits, and sometimes we get the ever precious morsel about what he has tried at lunch (which is provided by the school and included in tuition/scholarship). The school is literally across the street from the school where Brian teaches, so Sam spends much less time at a "school" now. His most favorite days of the week are "S" days, when he knows he'll be with us instead (Saturday/Sunday = Samdays). <br />
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John's 4th grade year has been challenging. His teachers are pushing the kids to be responsible and independent, which is hit or miss with our 10-year old. He is working hard through this last year of Glendale. He truly has to muscle his way through science class in Spanish, but luckily is fine with the math that is presented in Spanish. <br />
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<u>Holidays</u><br />
Halloween approaches. I love Halloween for its arbiter of cooler weather, but I hate the expectation of costume wrangling. <br />
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Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-6507806684448181472015-04-05T17:03:00.002-05:002015-04-05T17:03:37.636-05:00Spring Break 2015We did separate yet fun things for Spring Break this year because my break is never the same as the boys. Sam and I stayed home and did fun Mom/Son things like drive to and from school (my school is 40 minutes from his, so there was a lot of driving), eat macaroni cheese straight out of the pot, watch movies every night, etc. Staycation, one might say. <div>
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The Bigs went on an adventure out west to the San Juan River in Utah, where they met some friends and spent a week rafting, camping, hiking, and eating the most amazing camp food you have ever heard of. Brian suspended his vegetarianism in order to eat the delicious food that was prepared for them three times a day, whenever the urge struck. I would've liked that part of it. I may have even enjoyed the mudbaths ... you know, for my skin. </div>
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Sam and I did not document the Staycation very well, but Brian and John made up for us in spades. Below are my favorite shots from their trip:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Steve, Boatman, Chef, Medic</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is their toilet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole crew! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQrw1pSV_JwRJBnjaGBe1tJBLodT_o_QcqGiKU6duaXmM0oChXA2x6K04BwmiSYSKIGVODtfWJX-Mzsi3AzA0K12S1wjtPfVQQM-ijoOJNPHNNUvTpsc-mi-1dLRw8-EfYgtw/s1600/P3210325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQrw1pSV_JwRJBnjaGBe1tJBLodT_o_QcqGiKU6duaXmM0oChXA2x6K04BwmiSYSKIGVODtfWJX-Mzsi3AzA0K12S1wjtPfVQQM-ijoOJNPHNNUvTpsc-mi-1dLRw8-EfYgtw/s1600/P3210325.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is called Mexican Top Hat (or something like that)</td></tr>
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Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-31259576633151592532014-12-28T00:27:00.001-06:002014-12-28T09:54:09.684-06:00To My Sweet Sam on his FifthDear Sam,<br />
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Happy very late 5th birthday, buddy (11/23/14)! In case it helps, I also have neglected to take you to get your well-child check up, and here we are 34 days post-birthday. The latter is more understandable than this late birthday letter, I'll admit: Your ear tubes have come out and thus you have not been well enough to get vaccinations, and because we've been to the pediatrician three times since your birthday, I already know officially how much you weigh -- 40 pounds. Moreover, I don't need anyone to tell me that you're tall. I can see that for myself though I do love a good percentile now and then to confirm my notions. I also know that you are big enough for 10 ml of amoxicillin or 7 ml of Augmentin twice a day for 10 days, discard the rest. Bubble gum flavor. And while we're talking numbers, don't worry about all those milliliters of fake bubble gum because hopefully we'll have your third set of ear tubes put in before you turn six! Yay! <br />
<br />
As I lay in your bed tonight rubbing your back and trying to figure out what smelled like barf, it occurred to me to consider the length of the arc of my adjustment to motherhood. I figure I'm not anywhere near the apex, but I've been hanging on long enough to be about a quarter of the way up perhaps -- which means I'm decently discerning about things that matter, I guess. One of which is that the ER is a very unnecessary place as long as everybody's bones are intact, there is no unstoppable bleeding, and all are capable of breathing on their own. Another important aspect of ascending the arc is gaining the ability not to worry about the faint smell of vomit unless there is a reason more important than olfactory unpleasantness. Especially not at 8:30 p.m. when everything is otherwise quiet and you're not sure if the extra sheets are clean. But perhaps one of the most important aspects of traversing the arc is learning not to cling to comfort. Motherhood is a lot of things, but it is most certainly not always comfortable -- physically, mentally, or emotionally. <br />
<br />
You see, Sam, after John was born, I said for years that I couldn't handle anymore children ... didn't want more babies hanging on my hip. And then one day I imagined a bald little Thanksgiving baby, and 41 weeks later, there was you. Moreover, if I thought that I was overwhelmed with one child, two <strike>has</strike> <strike>just about done me in </strike>is only slightly more of a work of love. You ask me all the time if we're going to have another baby, and I cheerfully explain that that is impossible for our family because we have <em>just enough</em> kiddos in our house! The truth is that it is both in spite of and because of the fact that motherhood consistently and constantly pushes me out of my comfort zone that it is the greatest work of my life.<br />
<br />
Over this last year, Sam, I have struggled to maintain even the slightest glimpse of balancing motherhood with the other parts of my life. I fear that it has many times been to your detriment. But I promise you that I will always keep trying to do better at being more present with you, listening to you, and seeing you in all your Sammishness. <br />
<br />
Tonight, for example, while I was fiendishly sniffing for the barf-smell source, you were showing off your new addition skills -- holding up fingers and modeling your abilities, then asking me to do much more difficult mathematical equations such as [<em>insert your incredulous giggle here</em>]: twenty plus twenty! Followed by ceaseless iterations of "Do you know what it is, Mom? What is it? 20+20! Oh my gosh! Mom! What is it?!?!?" I waited just to see if you might be able to get it, but, exhausted with impatience, you finally said, "Well?" <br />
<br />
I answered, "It's forty! Can you believe it?!?" To which you replied, "Wow! I really didn't know! That's awesome if you're telling the truth, young lady." <br />
<br />
It really <em>is</em> 40, love. I've been studying for the GRE, so I'm relative sure.<br />
<br />
Despite my lack of work-life balance, this year has been a good one for you as a student Sam. You switched schools and are at a much more progressive preschool where they espouse child-led learning (<em>emergent</em> is the keyword if anyone wants to google it). Your teachers let you choose what you'd like to learn and then guide you in a direction that helps you develop that particular skill through play. They also make you taste everything at lunch (which is prepared at the center) before you can have more bread or crackers, your staples. You have told me more than once that the school is fine other than the tasting. Once you told me that you tried chicken -- "real chicken!" But that you "definitely didn't eat the bones." Sam, I relish that little detail of your random October day even now -- your pride, bravado, and storytelling skills all capture me. <br />
<br />
As a brother, you are still learning that you are the little one. This means that for the time being, John will be able to beat you at pretty much anything you try. This also means that the arc of my adjustment to motherhood must bend quite uncomfortably in the direction of patience because the two of you are pretty relentless in all aspects of your interactions. One thing that I love about you, Sam, is that you never give up the idea that you can beat John in cards or football, spaghetti eating or chicken chasing. You hold out an endless hope of one day succeeding. This everlasting optimism is part of why we love you so much, and part of what makes us worry constantly that you'll crack your head open.<br />
<br />
Right now, Sam, your brother is all the directions you want to go in. You often seem lost when he's not in the house. You also like your individual time with me and your dad, but I don't think there's any other playmate you prefer more than your brother, even if he's holding your head under the pool of water that forms at the end of the slip-n-slide.<br />
<br />
So, Sam, since this is closer to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday than to your own, I think I will end by taking the liberty to examine one of his most famous sayings. I love this quote because it inspires us to think about the bigger picture rather than focusing on all the small details which may or may not be pleasant to consider. It asks us to ponder not what tiny battles we have won or lost, but to envision the greater cause. He said, "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice." I think of this often when I'm getting mired down in the everyday conundrums of how to be a good mom. I tell myself that the moments may seem long (especially the ones involving sibling rivalry and/or unidentifiable barf smells), but the years seem short. <br />
<br />
One of your own more morbid yet sweet aphorisms is that you'll always love me, and I'll always be your mom, even when we're all dead. This is very true, sweet. It doesn't matter what happens in any moment -- for better or worse -- in the long run all that matters is that I'm your mom. My sweet Sam, it is my fervent prayer that the arc of my motherhood will not get bent out of shape by impatience, selfishness, or misguided values. Rather, I'll do my best to keep my arc bending in the direction of you, sweet, which is most certainly toward love.<br />
<br />
With my biggest ever hug,<br />
Mom<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-37166525838638647882014-10-12T15:46:00.000-05:002014-10-12T15:46:07.672-05:00Where Did These Athletes Come From? It must be my mad cheerleading skills that contributed to the creation of these little athletes. I watch them with sheer joy, amazement, and jealousy. How I wish I could rock that footwork. How I longed to enjoy something and be so good at it that I would run until sweat beads formed on my upper lip. I seriously wanted some sweat beads in elementary school. I coveted Erin Craven's sweat beads. But anyway, God (and Brian, I guess) gave me these two little soccer gems so that I might live vicariously through them. And for that, I am grateful.<br />
<br />
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<br />Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-23158207740903707112014-09-17T23:28:00.002-05:002014-09-17T23:28:45.024-05:00To My 1st on (actually one day after) Your 10thDear John,<br />
<br />
Yesterday you crossed over into double digits. I'm still 28 of course, but somehow you are ten. Never again after this year can you count your age on your hands. Toes will need to be involved, and I have seen your toes, and this is not a good thing. <br />
<br />
This is my 10th letter to you. The first one included a minute count of how long I had known you (525,600 minutes) and a Broadway tune. I fear this one may not hold a candle.<br />
<br />
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<br />
We have been celebrating your birthday over the last two weekends -- one fun day with friends at <a href="http://www.nashvilleshores.com/" target="_blank">Nashville Shores</a> and another weekend with The Paternals, one of whom made an apple pie (your request), which you scarfed <i>almost</i> singlehandedly in a matter of two days. <br />
<br />
I really don't have a plan for this letter. I want to write down some things that you're doing these days and might let that be my overarching theme, lame as it is. You love that word <i>lame</i>, by the way.<br />
<br />
Right now you are obsessed with Legos, soccer, and your "Clan" that
lives in my phone. I get automatic messages all day to update how your
clan is doing while you're away. "Xiangyong1988 has just raided your
village!" <b>or </b>"The troops are ready to attack!" <b>or </b>"Our arsenal of supplies
is almost empty, chief, WHERE ARE YOU?" I'm quite sure this sucks my
battery down, but I can't bring myself to delete the app because you
enjoy it so much. (And also, I can get you to do basically anything if I
threaten to delete it.) <br />
<br />
You waxed political yesterday, comparing America's wars in other countries to youth travel sports teams -- they never fight it out on their home turf. I thought that was pretty brilliant, but on the other hand you've been bringing home Ds and Fs in social studies, so who knows? (Side note: I secretly like that you're getting bad grades because it forces me to practice Spanish in order to help you get better. I am so proud of my new knowledge of 4th grade geological terms <i>en Espanol</i> -- <i>suela</i>, <i>meteorizacion, formas de rocas</i>, etc.). I will enjoy it much less when the homework is in English, so please do try to improve and/or consistently attend a Spanish immersion school.<br />
<br />
You're still taking piano lessons although this will probably be the last year. I told you last year that you could quit when you get to middle school because you would be playing a band instrument at that time. You have your heart set on the saxophone. I guess I have to be OK with that. It's just that you're good, JB. You have an ear for it. I think your foot for soccer and arm for baseball are great too, but those have nothing to do with me, and son, here's the deal: Soon you will learn that it all has to do with me, unfortunately. I want to see you shine BOTH in activities that I pursued AND in things that I could never fathom. I want to live vicariously through you. I want you to do all of the things I did, and out-perform me. It's not even a lot to ask, love. It's just you at your best.<br />
<br />
Too bad there's that whole HOMEWORK thing. It is really holding <strike>us</strike> you back.<br />
<br />
Let's discuss our time in the car, JB. What is this <i>calling cars</i> thing? You and your brother do it both individually and collectively while I drive you all to various extracurriculars. "Oooooh! <i>Call </i>that mustang!" or "Oh yeah, <i>call </i>that monster truck." or "<i>OOoh yeah baby </i>-- that motorcycle is <i>mine</i>." (An important unnoticed fact here is that we live in a city where we see sports cars, motorcycles, and monster trucks driving around daily -- how many other cities can brag about that?) My most important question is this: Why is it important to call cars/trucks when you're the only one who sees/wants them (e.g., when it's just me and you in the car and Sam is with your dad? -- I drive and wonder about these things.)<br />
<br />
John-John -- you know that we love you by now. But do you also know that we like you most of the time too? You have matured into a lovable, hard-working, funny kiddo about whom we are more than proud.<br />
<br />
I am especially interested in your athletic talents (but would also love it if you tried, say, theater or ballet), but all of you is pretty cool at this point, JB. You seem to be learning yourself and applying that knowledge to good decision making about the choices that you/we make. I feel proud to be part of Team John, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for you. <br />
<br />
You are loved, liked, respected, (catered to, not that it matters), and honored ...<br />
<br />
With all my hugs and love,<br />
Mom<br />
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<br />Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-23379246208957259822014-08-14T23:08:00.002-05:002014-08-14T23:12:42.933-05:00Thursday Night SpecialI used to always blog on Thursday nights. Because I only had one kiddo. Because I wasn't working full time. Because Brian was always at work until late. Because I had finished mopping for the, um, week.<br />
<br />
Now I have two kiddos, am working full time, have a husband who no longer works late, and a cleaning service that mops, um -- <i><b><u>don't judge</u></b></i> -- once a month. (We have a small house.)<br />
<br />
Tonight I worked until 8 p.m., had dinner with a colleague until 9ish, and got home at 9:30 p.m. after a long day of dealing with what I like to refer to as triple I's: Important Immigrant Irritations. Who amongst us doesn't love alliteration? Let him cast the first stone. <i>(Short aside: I once joined a book club that was just forming. We were all having a discussion about when we should meet, and "First Fridays" was my suggestion. However, some <u>important </u>member was always busy on that day, so I came up with the following to satiate my alliterative drive: Book Club will meet the Friday Following the First Friday of each month (FFFF).) </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And when I got home at 9:30 p.m., all the house was quiet and completely dark. I chose not to take this personally, and felt Thursday calling. So, here I am.<br />
<br />
The following is on my mind ...<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>It's not possible, but still, I will soon have a child whose age is in double digits.</li>
<li>I don't record enough of the hilarity of the everyday, which I used to do <i>ad nauseum</i>.</li>
<li>I can't possibly be taking enough photos of poor, sweet Sam.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Note that they're all negative. I noted that, and my well-trained, self-aware mind said, "Write 3 positives to counteract negative thinking." So, here:</div>
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I feel that I make a consistent & concerted effort to be a better parent mostly daily.</li>
<li>I go to bed earlier on average these days than in the last few years.</li>
<li>I try to live a balanced life that is focused on neither me nor my family, but us as a whole.</li>
</ul>
<div>
And now for the love of all that is good in the world ... on to just some photos... no more psychobabble.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is soccer season, and I'm reminiscing about John-John's first year on a team. He was three and serious, but as fate would have it, he got on the pink team. It was appropriately named the Pink Panthers, and not to worry because John -- as fate would have it -- was in a pink phase. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_OEdYa8hBPB_OHk_cBmfLto105HbABpQgFFi01XlZl35YwE6GC2QyyVxmPUQfUhsJnphptfxACs0CBODPh1eDdRSrKhiAa4SvzPlPGQAexeopKT1kO7RwuhNgMtSZ559wuqW/s1600/DSC00021_edited.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_OEdYa8hBPB_OHk_cBmfLto105HbABpQgFFi01XlZl35YwE6GC2QyyVxmPUQfUhsJnphptfxACs0CBODPh1eDdRSrKhiAa4SvzPlPGQAexeopKT1kO7RwuhNgMtSZ559wuqW/s1600/DSC00021_edited.JPG" height="320" width="211" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9zQgHS7XMel-AffSu69I3Fg3P06pzLvPtGsLb1ffJAt6PT4yenqLAcE8vdOQo6ieXPKE8XObajSo97xADxfb6EfG4X0B2WdyzcHXspT7ACJxN_YG_QDVAxEl2AxjWAkogM4j/s1600/DSC00024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9zQgHS7XMel-AffSu69I3Fg3P06pzLvPtGsLb1ffJAt6PT4yenqLAcE8vdOQo6ieXPKE8XObajSo97xADxfb6EfG4X0B2WdyzcHXspT7ACJxN_YG_QDVAxEl2AxjWAkogM4j/s1600/DSC00024.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not such a pink phase that he didn't insist upon orange socks. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Then there came the in-between year where one was playing and one was watching. There were moments like this, which are simply magnanimous mama music (MMM), as far as I'm concerned.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUIcI74s7e67-3h-ZZ_YcNjnhyP2ldD2nTfFn6S8qPkhnW4ywRjhqV9hIXD3Rfa7Qcx6T8qErWPQ60DIoAPrVNl4cSeL-hup9E7sJHuDDJVhKTc6LcYWh3V9DlYvoRskfmvWbX/s1600/IMG_8429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUIcI74s7e67-3h-ZZ_YcNjnhyP2ldD2nTfFn6S8qPkhnW4ywRjhqV9hIXD3Rfa7Qcx6T8qErWPQ60DIoAPrVNl4cSeL-hup9E7sJHuDDJVhKTc6LcYWh3V9DlYvoRskfmvWbX/s1600/IMG_8429.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John scored a goal.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi76XftAchxuTF7-yotx74fq8GcOg4eOz3S6UiHzsO6xuWNEqPAoVagh7Y8_iwxfABCuaV1hp1Hi_KsP02neZHg-ZTW_zcYAlyCZVFw8nHxmGbDDRBf_9SWqf3I8WqfEmdsodxW/s1600/IMG_8630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi76XftAchxuTF7-yotx74fq8GcOg4eOz3S6UiHzsO6xuWNEqPAoVagh7Y8_iwxfABCuaV1hp1Hi_KsP02neZHg-ZTW_zcYAlyCZVFw8nHxmGbDDRBf_9SWqf3I8WqfEmdsodxW/s1600/IMG_8630.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John's team won the game.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
And then came Sam's first year, which was marked with utter adherence to the rules. NOT. I once ran into a college friend at the fields (his kid was playing on an opposing team) and during our catch-up-on-the-last-almost-20-years conversation, Sam pulled down his pants and mooned the referees. TRUE STORY.</div>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNJQBUxnz-HK5625SKYudb4_PoHXmuOtWwHeS2C9c7bRArUxvqYzPEUB1Bi3kkpZ8lkx0VPdHr5PFE1Ppn0VKxSb5bco189sW3d2EjTSwGkqt7S-09XgjSKg9zAT484axtbTxq/s1600/IMG_4565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNJQBUxnz-HK5625SKYudb4_PoHXmuOtWwHeS2C9c7bRArUxvqYzPEUB1Bi3kkpZ8lkx0VPdHr5PFE1Ppn0VKxSb5bco189sW3d2EjTSwGkqt7S-09XgjSKg9zAT484axtbTxq/s1600/IMG_4565.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obviously, we don't have a pic of him engaged in the act of mooning, but we do have proof that he played soccer for the Black Bears because of black uniform top, of course.<br />
<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
And those are all the pictures I have. Hopefully I can do better this year in terms of sports memories. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But until then..</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
OUS..</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
k</div>
Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-43316662904052801162014-07-31T22:43:00.000-05:002014-07-31T22:43:07.343-05:00The Relative Permanence of MohawksSam had been begging for a mohawk for months (years?) when Brian finally gave in. Normally I would have stepped in and ended this dream for him, but I was heavily involved in a grading frenzy of essays with titles such as, "My All in Love with Mathematics" and "My Testes Anxiety" (yes, really -- the plural of the word "test" proves to be quite difficult for non-native speakers, as it turns out). So, I was a bit distracted when the shaver came out.<br />
<br />
At first, it was a mohawk version that went all the way to the nape of his neck. Now y'all. I am from Mississippi, but I'm sorry, I couldn't do it. It was just too much. I encouraged them to edit it a bit ... suggesting that perhaps a more "army-guy flat-top approach" might be better. They bought it. So, this is what we ended up with:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0DxJLnXdJAp2DwQG-QUGN2v2gKtyObtIIcDxZbWc2QL-1Xaat-vL04H0fr2Odamzhgd0rqoquLJ7s36ozML7mKp_brxhDDEz80UB9A-ffC7QcZEmR2x9dIBxxtM878gbR1s1/s1600/20140726_181859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0DxJLnXdJAp2DwQG-QUGN2v2gKtyObtIIcDxZbWc2QL-1Xaat-vL04H0fr2Odamzhgd0rqoquLJ7s36ozML7mKp_brxhDDEz80UB9A-ffC7QcZEmR2x9dIBxxtM878gbR1s1/s1600/20140726_181859.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If only you could see the difference where his beach-brown skin meets his hairline.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiit6c41yiIJPVHYkLkUF04IpvojOsOiz8XvqvO1bpMnx8oYx91eE3tDecQ4jYMaKSUHkKWb3-o-P3aBzT558C3W7NrkSwo81TQcO1iWfplfw3juTGS8FzUQv3TsowiXDdj02IH/s1600/20140728_083312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiit6c41yiIJPVHYkLkUF04IpvojOsOiz8XvqvO1bpMnx8oYx91eE3tDecQ4jYMaKSUHkKWb3-o-P3aBzT558C3W7NrkSwo81TQcO1iWfplfw3juTGS8FzUQv3TsowiXDdj02IH/s1600/20140728_083312.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They actually eat all the time and haven't been in a concentration camp, but the main point of this is the distinct hair qualities.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, the day after the mohawk was complete, we decided to go to Radnor. The boys were going to scooter and I was going to exercise by keeping up with them. Sam wakes up that morning and runs into the kitchen, looks at me seriously, and says, "Do I still have my mohawk?"<br />
<br />
"Yes," I say, surprised that he thought it might go away in the night. "It's a haircut, so it's not going to go away."<br />
<br />
With much conviction, he snaps at me, "It's not a HAIRCUT! It's a MOHAWK!"<br />
<br />
Right.<br />
<br />
So, we're getting ready to go to Radnor, and Sam comes up to me and whispers, "Can I take my mohawk to Radnor?" <br />
<br />
"Um..... of course!" I reply, thinking that something is really wrong with his understanding of object permanence.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3rI61vSBUu4l9taC0dkqeK3Cx8dYiaUbc5dBZ70Ecu_TsFggXd4i6M7knIKzS9CnZFElMAkgwNX3oCiSeSc-XSniZdeyVipidjrzARjM5tj6DdDXnVB2b8_Vpz9Gr4vkwk8h/s1600/20140728_083415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3rI61vSBUu4l9taC0dkqeK3Cx8dYiaUbc5dBZ70Ecu_TsFggXd4i6M7knIKzS9CnZFElMAkgwNX3oCiSeSc-XSniZdeyVipidjrzARjM5tj6DdDXnVB2b8_Vpz9Gr4vkwk8h/s1600/20140728_083415.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"YESSSSSSsssssssss!" he says, and runs out of the room to tell John the exciting news. <br />
<br />
Now when we go somewhere and people admire his "haircut," they are met with a very curt response: <br />
<br />
IT IS NOT A HAIRCUT. IT'S A MOHAWK.<br />
<br />
Indeed. And, for now, it's still there.<br />
<br />
ous,<br />
k<br />
<br />Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-52521593128682486672014-07-30T23:59:00.001-05:002014-07-30T23:59:16.755-05:00He has always had good hair.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMpywit2EWdimLyeGUsu2lGfstWufaG0iitf8ARKWhC1LQThgSslpu2Mp3WLYZVvbi-rhbE5gSuwJPg5gt1miYqrMkJ-aPwHcdrkcgNJ3xPhahiO08UpC8yM_lwLWiXCfE3qg/s1600/John2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMpywit2EWdimLyeGUsu2lGfstWufaG0iitf8ARKWhC1LQThgSslpu2Mp3WLYZVvbi-rhbE5gSuwJPg5gt1miYqrMkJ-aPwHcdrkcgNJ3xPhahiO08UpC8yM_lwLWiXCfE3qg/s1600/John2.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-21985292866236394702014-07-30T23:12:00.000-05:002014-07-30T23:12:02.350-05:00In the Battle Between Napkins and Squirrels ... First of all, congrats to our boys, both of whose teams were runner ups in their leagues' silver division championship games! Here they both are receiving their trophies:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCQckya2zGseAMRntSh9HfMErVxo9DcNClWSWasXegcjFoyvd1IfQ5xumyxi3_kVV_qi4jHeT_bw6rxBHmhFwzp16dE4T8VhzVRDhxJk7lftxRaGfFpVe_eux1pKN-gzc_7_p/s1600/Reds+Championship+Game.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCQckya2zGseAMRntSh9HfMErVxo9DcNClWSWasXegcjFoyvd1IfQ5xumyxi3_kVV_qi4jHeT_bw6rxBHmhFwzp16dE4T8VhzVRDhxJk7lftxRaGfFpVe_eux1pKN-gzc_7_p/s1600/Reds+Championship+Game.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And after all that was said and done, I finally made time to take my car in to get an oil change. What is it about taking your car in for any one little thing? It's like they can't wait to take the whole thing apart looking for other problems that you might not know about. This doesn't happen when I go to the doctor or when my students submit papers. I just get checked out for whatever I came in for, and my students get feedback from me that reflects the objectives of the lesson from which the submission came. And yet mechanics ... those conniving know-it-alls. (Gracie, if you're reading this, I'm sure Chris is not like this at all, and would actually like to meet him -- would he consider becoming my PCM (primary care mechanic?)<br />
<br />
See, back in 2010 I went in for normal maintenance and discovered that Chick-fil-A napkins had gotten lodged in the "blower door" (a lovely name that one cannot forget once discovering), and because of this, the AC, when on "recirculated air" made an incessant clicking sound that would've cost a grandish to fix. That prompted this blog <a href="http://sweetgoosebumps.blogspot.com/2010/12/and-moral-of-story-is-dont-keep-napkins.html" target="_blank">post</a>.<br />
<br />
And then this week I went in for an oil change, and 30 minutes later, a young man came out with what looked like a filthy old, dust-covered wash board with rodent droppings and acorn shells lodged in it. It was my AC's filter. A squirrel had apparently used it to make a lovely home for him/herself. I had wondered why there were acorns in the vents and on the floorboard, but of course with boys, one never bothers to ask questions about things such as this. This mechanic encouraged me to take a picture, "so that your husband will believe you," and so I did:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33q5SuMyWag7RAlZA2AskfffH1UoRkpF32CZews1_0iyVh053YnSx4uSkJeYCJmMbfj_JSoevHX3wbt2lhL0j3QxrnyMxCycr771k-41_gQpvCjdXy7D8fQYTHrs2Jz4xWhA6/s1600/IMG_20140623_150955%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33q5SuMyWag7RAlZA2AskfffH1UoRkpF32CZews1_0iyVh053YnSx4uSkJeYCJmMbfj_JSoevHX3wbt2lhL0j3QxrnyMxCycr771k-41_gQpvCjdXy7D8fQYTHrs2Jz4xWhA6/s1600/IMG_20140623_150955%5B1%5D.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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You can see acorn halves, poop, an eaten-out part, etc. Good stuff, y'all, Crazy, exciting stuff that just doesn't happen to you in your 20s. <br />
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So, in other news, Brian and I went to Arizona for our 13th anniversary. And below are some of my favorite shots from our trip:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspu-gvbb3_-uxKKZZL8bCkB7DquumN5ft2aVwOftSKnI_rwLxnu_NahZLU8_2_mEFQVehh63y4Q_ckQnKUmQmavfsjjW8AqhBibHj71OvnFDoRiNgl9LwJOc80EnigtWOaW-W/s1600/IMG_20140531_082046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspu-gvbb3_-uxKKZZL8bCkB7DquumN5ft2aVwOftSKnI_rwLxnu_NahZLU8_2_mEFQVehh63y4Q_ckQnKUmQmavfsjjW8AqhBibHj71OvnFDoRiNgl9LwJOc80EnigtWOaW-W/s1600/IMG_20140531_082046.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We flew Southwest and got "C" boarding passes, which basically meant that I was out on the wing and Brian was co-pilot. So, he told them it was our 13th anniversary and VOILA, we got to sit together. At the end of the flight, they announced our anniversary and gave us a bottle (yes, bottle) of champagne, which we left in the hotel as a gratuity for the the housekeeper. During the time they were announcing us, people were exiting the airplane. We could not exit because my original seat (where my luggage was located) was behind us. So Brian weaved his way back there amongst the passengers, and I meanwhile took up with a child who was flying unaccompanied. He had heard the announcement, and asked me if I was proud of my 13th husband. So, I explained to him the differences between marriages and anniversaries. He then started singing a song featuring the books of the Bible (which I knew), so I joined in. When I got to Ecclesiastes, he stopped me an dsaid, "Jehovah's witness?" I replied that no, indeed, I had grown up Baptist, at which point he informed me that the Bible said I was a JW. Kids these days.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJQaLLrEqyHvaSXq5vETHVUP_gGdQvdahQk3jjaSzWlhZEpg3JeObi7xucPmH8Sh0jFMha1Y8rm7e3xRDauFtr8EtfMIoQ4vyEK0gdgxX6e0SwiNK6dAl2BH1X-BfjPCFQ5QoI/s1600/IMG_20140531_122500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJQaLLrEqyHvaSXq5vETHVUP_gGdQvdahQk3jjaSzWlhZEpg3JeObi7xucPmH8Sh0jFMha1Y8rm7e3xRDauFtr8EtfMIoQ4vyEK0gdgxX6e0SwiNK6dAl2BH1X-BfjPCFQ5QoI/s1600/IMG_20140531_122500.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving north from Phoenix, this was our view of the desert.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_wcCrjRTod-77RV9xGXsClbYkUfYLrS8pRNMdHHWbfuD0n6utnccEMXsFz1inRdFNLFJT5XIzGkjCr6uIbKx_VS3EPvmvYSGWcP0upvZUS8WWcqDRwBAJTqYB2hdPUbPFtUT/s1600/IMG_20140531_140649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_wcCrjRTod-77RV9xGXsClbYkUfYLrS8pRNMdHHWbfuD0n6utnccEMXsFz1inRdFNLFJT5XIzGkjCr6uIbKx_VS3EPvmvYSGWcP0upvZUS8WWcqDRwBAJTqYB2hdPUbPFtUT/s1600/IMG_20140531_140649.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah, Flagstaff in June. It's always 70 or below and breezy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxWtK7jPZdZIPagtGTShItgnM8EI3712f40fKFNtn3TqnHYO9E7spEMGgaPf07xYkmZDNt6fQ7SoDRFYGTr49rkeNOyQSMaI4xRJfnAuGew5NMmoyCCZZFev7oqB0z-_VAqL4/s1600/IMG_20140601_112207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxWtK7jPZdZIPagtGTShItgnM8EI3712f40fKFNtn3TqnHYO9E7spEMGgaPf07xYkmZDNt6fQ7SoDRFYGTr49rkeNOyQSMaI4xRJfnAuGew5NMmoyCCZZFev7oqB0z-_VAqL4/s1600/IMG_20140601_112207.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We went to our favorite hiking spot and did a morning hike overlooking Mt. Humphreys.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4uw7dWLxKQrLJlnCAHTqAr_xklaeYTTeomWYh7wFcCT2_lS27YStEcW5pALF1TOvIpSWLopUYn-vz6oARVUEmjmUejSMcnmRjRAW2XT5yya9bDkH-FsTSwB0IhibOCzILj0X/s1600/IMG_20140601_121755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4uw7dWLxKQrLJlnCAHTqAr_xklaeYTTeomWYh7wFcCT2_lS27YStEcW5pALF1TOvIpSWLopUYn-vz6oARVUEmjmUejSMcnmRjRAW2XT5yya9bDkH-FsTSwB0IhibOCzILj0X/s1600/IMG_20140601_121755.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian's breakfast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9aSibNuhZAKFkrlmClHQEf3xrM_wu5YjT26pBe_wgiQt2yD5QMfwIJJwLXrCMighbUkXxZ-xoe20myzEd6G5yu8JV_bu228nfbaNYdmeWFIkTAOgov2M4dTkTgdXn2KuGR3gJ/s1600/IMG_20140601_121912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9aSibNuhZAKFkrlmClHQEf3xrM_wu5YjT26pBe_wgiQt2yD5QMfwIJJwLXrCMighbUkXxZ-xoe20myzEd6G5yu8JV_bu228nfbaNYdmeWFIkTAOgov2M4dTkTgdXn2KuGR3gJ/s1600/IMG_20140601_121912.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDEIKx3R6r8Yl1vuav-e7sQktzy_U8fDlO8IkmSvbGyAltvTOXvyqyZQEXEo1TsZUjGhEHR2YX2-bxBEZU8cP4xwf63SuyqYRUeVzzqG8j0B9zYMT0EXDY-EOalfsHuIBDvPX/s1600/IMG_20140602_093512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDEIKx3R6r8Yl1vuav-e7sQktzy_U8fDlO8IkmSvbGyAltvTOXvyqyZQEXEo1TsZUjGhEHR2YX2-bxBEZU8cP4xwf63SuyqYRUeVzzqG8j0B9zYMT0EXDY-EOalfsHuIBDvPX/s1600/IMG_20140602_093512.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way back to Phoenix, we stopped in Sedona for a hike. The scenery wasn't bad.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sfRXmnvRFvt0TdeRG7kHYUb8leue8GIqhoSRpQQhwhwrYY7ypLQquc0si-Z79l4na6oisOVD_o5WtKHkWAElPsC5jS4M-DhAd6l-czUDDgTMeZEbEYo5Jj2UuJEwHgz8U_Vy/s1600/IMG_20140602_142936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sfRXmnvRFvt0TdeRG7kHYUb8leue8GIqhoSRpQQhwhwrYY7ypLQquc0si-Z79l4na6oisOVD_o5WtKHkWAElPsC5jS4M-DhAd6l-czUDDgTMeZEbEYo5Jj2UuJEwHgz8U_Vy/s1600/IMG_20140602_142936.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh Phoenix. You hot mess.</td></tr>
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There is much more to say about June, but unfortunately I am writing this in July. I'm trying to keep a once per month posting schedule, but working 3 days/week is proving to be too much of a burden. <br />
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Perhaps in the fall I can do better ...<br />
<br />
ous,<br />
k<br />
<br />Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-6132418161596999312014-05-28T22:25:00.001-05:002014-05-28T22:25:24.910-05:00End of May 2014It's the end of the month, and I had a New Year Resolution to do this once each month. So here I am. This picture is the gist of it:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5d-OtBldpUYGcdYItrWCC1YlAOb21qvDM9skBvjXgcZ4x7G6e-_rb_HvqVxwga3Albq9TcKHHHtENp6-zK75htls6S78aTE1m8RXFGkv1C-0-eLRFaa3CsOMjNjrQA_kp2Gh/s1600/IMG_6319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5d-OtBldpUYGcdYItrWCC1YlAOb21qvDM9skBvjXgcZ4x7G6e-_rb_HvqVxwga3Albq9TcKHHHtENp6-zK75htls6S78aTE1m8RXFGkv1C-0-eLRFaa3CsOMjNjrQA_kp2Gh/s1600/IMG_6319.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We spend a lot of time at baseball fields, and now our oldest is coaching our youngest. <br /><br />Which only means one thing: We. Have. Made. It. In. The. World. Y'all.<br /><br /></td></tr>
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Yes, that's really all.<br />
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Love to each of you,<br />
kKimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-26632287810144579752014-04-30T22:59:00.001-05:002014-04-30T23:04:23.969-05:00Dear Baseball, Alternate Title: <i> In Which It Was Just Christmas, But Now It's Spring, Which is Not a Big Deal. (Alternate, alternate title: In Which <u>Baseball</u>: The End)</i><br />
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Once a month blogging was my only goal. No need to be an overachiever despite how hard it tugs at one's heartstrings. It's really not my fault. Watch this. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFQfylQ2Jgg">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFQfylQ2Jgg</a> Then you'll understand.<br />
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So now. Here we are. I would try to write something witty except that my M-i-L gave me an awesome new camera which is totally not distracting. I really like cameras. Thanks Jane! <br />
<br />
But what I like even more than cameras, is writing letters ... and so ...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Baseball,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJXDMXHpB4nUsNGT8QhF-UL6uolifv5NTBUWDbf_KPmr117Z53y-sQeqWulYtSfpe1HwfTCIhMKDWxfQqeRZzL5ZZkLaDovJGCpY-jhNvEhV69YyHpHIjlI0E9INViasputq2/s1600/Reds+v.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJXDMXHpB4nUsNGT8QhF-UL6uolifv5NTBUWDbf_KPmr117Z53y-sQeqWulYtSfpe1HwfTCIhMKDWxfQqeRZzL5ZZkLaDovJGCpY-jhNvEhV69YyHpHIjlI0E9INViasputq2/s1600/Reds+v.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></div>
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First, let me say that you have totally swept me off my feet. I once saw you as this stupid, boring unending thing that may have involved cute guys but was totally not worth the time commitment. Now, I am older. I can appreciate you for what you really are. (In a word, complicated.) I can (almost) understand and value your baggage, your required patience with multiple and often ceaseless innings, and your extreme need for sustained knee-area pants scrubbing, which, by the way, I would be way cooler with if you weren't always in dire straits to be so WHITE. A girl appreciates a good healthy color, sometimes. Roll with it, dude. So, despite the fact that I love you, let's both agree to be less complicated, how 'bout it?<br />
<br />
Second, let's be real about how much time you require. I didn't mean to have two boys, Baseball. I didn't mean for them to love you and be actually quite good at maintaining a relationship with you. I just wanted everybody to be happy and have fun. In my naive, pre-baseball-boys mind, which never involved pants scrubbing or bats in the house ... especially not the bats ... Lord, those things ... how do they end up in the dining room? See, if you could explain all of that logically in a five-paragraph essay with attention to author, audience, and purpose while avoiding logical fallacies, I might fall even deeper in love with you. But for now, please back off: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjF0tNsJZ0kV_s1T1Mntv91JJzqCv0gEVD5vGjhrgEXWdRYSOINsf6FeE11RK2PW-lMAwUcx726A_D_vKeD9SbYV873ZpSK6pJkf6-7D2j17wx52Vyt9Y2QRf9ZfJz4Z6egGO/s1600/Kings+v.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjF0tNsJZ0kV_s1T1Mntv91JJzqCv0gEVD5vGjhrgEXWdRYSOINsf6FeE11RK2PW-lMAwUcx726A_D_vKeD9SbYV873ZpSK6pJkf6-7D2j17wx52Vyt9Y2QRf9ZfJz4Z6egGO/s1600/Kings+v.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a>Finally, baseball -- could you please not be so fickle? I like a good challenge, but you are living at the mercy of your umpires, Sweet Game. They are totally controlling you. Take back your manhood and make some clear-sighted decisions for once. Stand up to those "He's-Safe-No-He's-Actually-Out" calls. Don't let those Umps control you, friend. They are working for the man. The white-pants man.<br />
<br />
I hope this finds you well, B. The weather hasn't been good for the last couple of days, so we've missed each other at the field, but spring is full of hope and promise. There will certainly be more opportunities. In the meantime, can we please commit our attention to self-betterment? I will stop sneaking hunks of Trader Joe's Goat Cheese if we can come to this agreement, which I think provides total mutual compromise. Until next time, B,<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
Mama K<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;">You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball, and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time. ~Jim Bouton, </span><i style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;">Ball Four</i><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;">, 1970</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;">With those who don't give a damn about baseball, I can only sympathize. I do not resent them. I am even willing to concede that many of them are physically clean, good to their mothers and in favor of world peace. But while the game is on, I can't think of anything to say to them. ~Art Hill</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;">It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. ~A. Bartlett Giamatti, "The Green Fields of the Mind," </span><i style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;">Yale Alumni Magazine</i><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;">, November 1977</span><br />
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<br />Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-18897074155138420192014-03-11T22:38:00.000-05:002014-03-11T23:22:40.958-05:00In Which I “Mama Up” (or at least consider it)<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0a9_56q2ZMtnk3Z4Whwq1B0PLRangnpNWSA28j7mCI2Oh3qkhpbFgI7dcNs-sPydvozfHbrsalDdepMnkbze4OylZw4B9Os8hhMFbDi79H2aVmgNndcYEEYXNmftIu7s-I8jU/s1600/attachments+(13).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0a9_56q2ZMtnk3Z4Whwq1B0PLRangnpNWSA28j7mCI2Oh3qkhpbFgI7dcNs-sPydvozfHbrsalDdepMnkbze4OylZw4B9Os8hhMFbDi79H2aVmgNndcYEEYXNmftIu7s-I8jU/s1600/attachments+(13).jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam has also discovered SELFIES.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">If you had told me 10 years ago that I would have two boys,
a snake, and a membership at an Isshinryu Karate Dojo, I wouldn’t have even
bothered to laugh in your face. I probably would’ve walked away from you and
started telling people that you have a mental illness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And here I am with all of the above (plus a betta fish that
we traded for the four hermit crabs because one of those suckers pinched me and
after that it was all over).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tonight I said what may take the cake in terms of parenting
quotes. And I don’t say that lightly, because I have had my share of “we don’t
eat our boogers because they are too high in sodium” moments. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I should preface this with an explanation that Sam has been
difficult lately. And not difficult in an eating boogers sort of way … much
more than that.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He is emotional. He is hostile. He is unreasonable. He is
mad because he cannot hold all of his Pokemon cards in one hand. (He also
cannot hold all of his Pokemon cards in TWO hands, but he does NOT want a
Ziploc bag or a rubber band!) He is upset because he doesn’t understand his
immense pile of Pokemon cards and their various damage levels. He is pretty
angry just in general. He is also offended that he cannot eat donuts and
Cheetohs (Cheethos? Cheetos?) for every meal. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Additionally, he pretty frequently gets in trouble at
school. And now -- per my request -- I’m getting phone calls instead of
notes-home-in-his-lunchbox about this behavior. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Phone calls at work. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, things aren’t smooth right now. They could be much
worse, I know. And I seriously thank God and Jesus and Mary and Joseph and John
the Baptist (and sometimes even Elijah and Moses) every night because I know
that hidden underneath my delusion of difficulty is the reality that my life is
pretty smooth overall. Maybe even <i>easy</i>. (Although if you repeat that to
anyone, I will punch you in the throat.)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tonight I said, and I quote (obviously): “Do NOT wipe your
nose with the crotch of your dirty underwear!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Should I just go ahead and ask for help, or wait until someone
offers?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What would I even say at a support group meeting? Hello. My
name is Kimberly, and my child actually took off his dirty underwear and used
it to wipe his snotty nose. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Feel sorry for me.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What is the point of all this anyway? This parenting nonsense
is making me take pride in such ridiculous things as successfully painting all
of my fingernails purple except the ring finger, which I painted turquoise. Because somebody told me that was the new
thing. And it is sorta pretty in a
non-symmetrical kinda way.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What am I supposed to do with these difficult children that
I’ve had? I think they’ve finally outgrown
the fire-station drop off threat, so now we’re accepting real serious
proposals.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Some days I think: It’s them or me. I can’t hear another fake fart or senseless
nonsensical babble that ends in “face” (e.g., Mamaface, Peepeeface, Johnface,
Stupidface, etc.). It makes me want to
peel away my epidermis (let’s face it, cuticles are an ORGAN! Part of the biggest organ in our bodies – the
skin! This is way seriouser than anyone
acknowledges.)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But I can’t just sit around peeling. Because I’m.The.Mama. And Mamas have to be more mature and
responsible than their children. (I
know, right? Who made up that crap?) I’m always stuck with this feeling that even
when Mamas feel that neither the mature nor the responsible trait has ever
existed naturally in their DNA, they must still strive.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And so I’m writing this to console myself. I’m writing this to say that I know I need to
… I’m sorry, can we please do away with the phrase “Man up”? I think “Mama up” gets more to the spirit of
the idiom. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And now, I’m off to Mama Up.
(Which likely includes lying down.)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">OUS,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">k<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-68534855029314315942014-02-16T23:29:00.002-06:002014-02-16T23:29:29.379-06:00It's my party, and I'll ____ if I want to.Brian and I have birthdays that are 12 days apart, so each year we celebrate together. Normally this happens in between our birthdays, but due to inclement weather and viruses, this year it happened about 2 weeks late.<br />
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We decided to go to Ken's Sushi, one of our favorites, and afterward we attended a movie (we are <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">SO</u> adventurous). <br />
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<i>At this point it becomes necessary for me to insert two very important side notes. Normally my side notes are meant to be comic relief from whatever mundane thing I'm attending to, but these are actually integral to the plot, so please read them in full, no matter how painful.</i><br />
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<u>Side note #1:</u> Two months prior to our birthday celebration, I had had a couple of bad days. On Thursday, December 12th, we had a holiday potluck at my work. I signed up to bring Green Bean Casserole (GBC). But of course I can't just make a plain old GBC, I had to go over the top with it -- local, organic green beans, extra sauteed mushrooms, real bacon bits, etc. Upon arriving at work, I exited the driver's seat and proceeded to the backseat to procure the GBC. However, instead of gracefully hoisting it from the floorboard, I clumsily let it slip from my hands and crash into the backseat like, for lack of a better simile, projectile vomit. <span style="font-size: x-small; font-style: italic;">Forgive me. There's been a lot of projectile vomit in my backseat over the years. </span>Now. Could I have handled this situation better? Yes.<span style="font-size: x-small; font-style: italic;"> But I was pre-menstrual. See, that TMI moment was almost worse than the projectile-vomit moment, but you're still reading. Hang in there.</span> I could've just said, "Oh phooey," and salvaged what was left. But no. I proceeded to fling my oven mitts (and some mild swear words) across the parking lot while stomping my feet angrily. And then the worst of it all happened: A handsome young man appeared, holding out my oven mitts <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(which were lovingly knitted by my mother's across-the-street neighbor, Peggy -- thanks Peggy! We love those things ... they're so thick and protective!) </i></span>as if they were a peace offering for the war I was fighting with the GBC. I stopped stomping and cursing. I accepted the mitts with a slight smile and "thank you," and he walked away, presumably to call all of his young, hip, single friends, and tell the story of the middle-aged mom throwing a tantrum in the parking lot. His nonchalant behavior inspired me to pull it together, and I ended up saving about 75% of the GBC and -2% of my reputation.<br />
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<u>Side note #2:</u> The next day, Friday, December 13th, I created for myself an itinerary that was -- if you can believe such a thing -- much much worse than the previous day's minutiae. When I got up, my phone had a reminder notification about my Sunday school class's Christmas party. But of course, this was at 6 a.m., and I hadn't yet had coffee, so I dismissed the reminder without looking at the details, and proceeded to frantically text every potential babysitter I know in an attempt to find a way to go to the party at the last minute. Then I remembered that it was a potluck, so I started making a grocery list. Next, I recalled not having bought any new clothes since the children were born, so I wrote down "Find new outfit -- at least a decent shirt" on the to-do list. A babysitter texts back that she is available. Score! I go to work. At some point midday, I emailed Brian to inform him that our Friday night plans had changed a bit and to please not exhaust himself teaching 6th grade math. I worked until about 2 p.m. and then went to the mall, got a new shirt, came home, downed a coupla cups of coffee, and cleaned the house so the babysitter wouldn't call the DCS on us. There was a poptart under Sam's bed. <i style="font-size: small;">(Just realized that the downside to side notes is that one feels compelled to keep it to one paragraph.) </i>I make a black-eyed pea and feta with quinoa salad to bring to the potluck. I slow cook the black-eyed peas from scratch. I go and picked up the boys. Brian arrives at 5ish, and we are to leave at 6:30. The party starts at 7:00. The babysitter arrives at 6:15ish. I'm in the shower. I quickly attempt to make myself presentable in my new shirt and standard black pants. By 6:45, I'm totally ready. Where is Brian? The boys note that his car is still in the driveway. The sitter corroborates this allegation. I go to the laundry room to check. (???) He's not there. I check the bathroom, his car, and I even call the neighbors to find out if they've seen him. Finally, I go into our bedroom because I had forgotten to put on earrings (the horror!), and notice him sound asleep next to a ginormous pile of clean clothes that I had not had time to fold and had dumped on our bed. I clap my hands twice. Because, you know, husbands like that. He bolts up, confused. I clap again, twice, to the rhythm of my words, "Let's GO!" And he is so sleepy that he actually and amiably gets up and walks to the car. At this point, we're late, so I'm in a hurry, but I'm trying to avoid the babysitter's car in the driveway. I'm backing down with what I think is a careful eye when all of a sudden I realize I'm on top of the low brick wall which lines our driveway <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(again -- my car had just gotten out of the body shop because I had straddled the wall in Novemberish and caused significant damage)</i></span>, and Brian is yelling STOP! STOP! STOP! So, I go with my instincts, which were to put the car in forward and drive off of the brick wall. This cued more STOP! STOP! STOP! so I stopped. Brian got out, surveyed the damage, and yelled for me to climb into the passenger seat and roll down the driver-side window. I complied. He climbed through the window (the door was stuck on the brick wall) and successfully reversed the car back onto the driveway. I was so happy! Brian had saved the day like always. I let him drive while I input the party address into my phone's GPS. We arrive. There are no lights on in the house, no cars parked in the driveway, nothing, in fact, that even hints that there is a party at said house. But I am sure that everyone else is late and we are just the first ones there. I skip up to the door, black-eyed pea salad in hand, and knock excitedly -- yay! A holiday party! After a few minutes, my friend shows up at the door in sweats and graciously greets us. I'm like, "Where is everybody?" and she's like, "Um. The party is ... um, the party is not until tomorrow night." And then we laugh like hyenas because there is nothing else to do in the face of such awkward idiocy. Brian promptly turns and sulks back to the car. She and I laugh for a few more moments, and I insist that she keep the salad for tomorrow night, giving instructions about how to serve it cold with lemon juice. I walk back to the car and totally, completely burst into tears that can only be likened to the kind of thing that teenage girls do. The sort of tears that turn your face into a speckled trout, and if you are, say late 30s or so, can cause your right eye to twitch uncontrollably for hours. Brian intrusively announces that we are going to end this pity party and go get sushi; he is starving. I'm heaving. Sobbing hysterically about how unorganized and unfit I am -- why did he ever even marry such a stupid loser? We park at the sushi place, and he waits a bit for me to stop crying. I don't stop. We enter the restaurant. I proceed to cry throughout the ENTIRE meal. The waitress keeps bringing me green tea ice cream because I haven't ordered anything -- I'm too upset. As we leave, she says, "Honey, you have GOT to get rid of that cold, and I start boo-hooing again and practically yell, "I'm not sick!!!" Brian respectfully berates me in the car for not catching on to her attempt to cover for me. The end.<br />
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So, tonight we go back to the restaurant where, two months ago, I had sat compulsively crying and eating green tea ice cream. We sit in the same place. We have the same waitress. I tell Brian that tonight I'm going to redeem myself. We order slowly, taking a long time between soup and entree. The waitress is attentive but not nagging. Finally, we're done and she comes to bring the check and remove the plates. She asks how was the sushi, and I say, "Delicious!" I'm thinking, "Thank GOD she doesn't remember us."<br />
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As she's leaving to get our change, she says, "I'm so glad you enjoyed it. And <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(looking at me) </i></span>you held up quite well through the whole thing."<br />
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At first, I sat astonished. Then I said, "Right! I didn't even cry! Yay!" <br />
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She got our change, and we left ... even though I wanted to tell her all of the above. <br />
<br />
But I didn't.<br />
<br />
Because despite my supercoolness, I'm mysterious. Which makes me more supercool.<br />
<br />
There's no lesson here. Were you waiting on one of those, "This is what I learned" concluding sentences? Well, you're going to leave disappointed. There is no take-away from this except that waitresses have good memories. I wish I could find a silver lining in the compiled narrative of it all. But sometimes I think it's enough just to tell the humiliating story.<br />
<br />
Onward and upward,<br />
k<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-46326576522016812122014-02-02T16:15:00.001-06:002014-02-03T15:54:00.337-06:00January 2014One of my NYRs was to write one blog post each month. I'm already three days behind schedule. But we shall carry on.<br />
<br />
(My other resolutions, in case you're interested, were as follows: (1) Save ALL coins -- so far I've cheated only once to buy coke at the vending machine at work; (2) Look at my calendar every now and then to avoid missing parties and/or showing up on the wrong night -- this is going well thanks for my nifty new phone; (3) Not let coffee be the first thing down my throat every day -- this is mostly just about remembering ... I haven't found it difficult to do this.)<br />
<br />
So, here I am three days into February doing my January 2014 update, which shall be divided into parts:<br />
<br />
Part 1: New Years<br />
<br />
We traveled to Austin for New Years (by car, not that it matters), and I was able to finish two entire novels on the way there and back. Texas shouldn't be allowed to be that big; however, I guess chopping it up would still keep Austin 12 hours away from Nashville. Here are some pics from the trip (taken by MiL, OFP (Official Family Photographer).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNIXjh0ocQdpD_L4oIbjufCz_AIhFYOR9N7oWYNVtJs1JAHVYAipFpN8DQW5xEAbNtRg4wIym8SyLYQvSnIos83PbSQlIIT0fZt-gScWwIPH8B9-uJgi2Ef8ouMdInjT2iUKSQ/s1600/IMG_5574.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNIXjh0ocQdpD_L4oIbjufCz_AIhFYOR9N7oWYNVtJs1JAHVYAipFpN8DQW5xEAbNtRg4wIym8SyLYQvSnIos83PbSQlIIT0fZt-gScWwIPH8B9-uJgi2Ef8ouMdInjT2iUKSQ/s1600/IMG_5574.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John's Big Project</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0Yfao-73bDOojMIiYNnM9dOpESIlsmdUI8Gkqtf68Y_TtFYokIk9Xvlr_8iKtreh667yX13GYZh8QaD8tnqYhR3cuIEflZOw2wmt_VIBl8cPrzAFV4yNnWcO8W_K-7_Sn7Fw/s1600/IMG_5659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0Yfao-73bDOojMIiYNnM9dOpESIlsmdUI8Gkqtf68Y_TtFYokIk9Xvlr_8iKtreh667yX13GYZh8QaD8tnqYhR3cuIEflZOw2wmt_VIBl8cPrzAFV4yNnWcO8W_K-7_Sn7Fw/s1600/IMG_5659.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We took the kids and grandparents to a dangerous hiking area.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11 months apart and both are something.else.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuwItpqNBZOW-KelRe6W94jSeCdE5v8yjCi-OWw1PoWNraAfrFsRQoK_yrl4PuQcduz6hnmHaJSLEqS7WmKkPfC0aVmh0Fj-VfvPYb4f6J6n-ZMA2Kjv53rCuR827Fg75p-t41/s1600/IMG_5530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuwItpqNBZOW-KelRe6W94jSeCdE5v8yjCi-OWw1PoWNraAfrFsRQoK_yrl4PuQcduz6hnmHaJSLEqS7WmKkPfC0aVmh0Fj-VfvPYb4f6J6n-ZMA2Kjv53rCuR827Fg75p-t41/s1600/IMG_5530.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this one so much!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM0yKct6Egn5vJLVtunVRCQxcj1blODc97fuemsG-4ZSA87Pqb23Y6dr8c2Ln2M6gWWnJpg08mu6TJHrKF-p-C_zNVBYxwg37bjGkSzBOas3Aljn0UnAaI7VLh9WgQOI32OZBz/s1600/IMG_5537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM0yKct6Egn5vJLVtunVRCQxcj1blODc97fuemsG-4ZSA87Pqb23Y6dr8c2Ln2M6gWWnJpg08mu6TJHrKF-p-C_zNVBYxwg37bjGkSzBOas3Aljn0UnAaI7VLh9WgQOI32OZBz/s1600/IMG_5537.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lucy/Kimmy tradition of mani/pedis.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIkz1F1hzYcfk2AF6PfjHxyB2nd3qfgSMWEYExSGHBAbzdPTeDF6K9mCGxgFiG9FDDRtGOKe8cZeimJeqgM2t_XLljrw16nodXxC-Hn34u1hoqI5D9RfVJYoAcsdOh5hmoBTM/s1600/IMG_5613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIkz1F1hzYcfk2AF6PfjHxyB2nd3qfgSMWEYExSGHBAbzdPTeDF6K9mCGxgFiG9FDDRtGOKe8cZeimJeqgM2t_XLljrw16nodXxC-Hn34u1hoqI5D9RfVJYoAcsdOh5hmoBTM/s1600/IMG_5613.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bruce got a new hat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmEAGskotvOT_Sl6_vzXcuYQqWZtrEemhODTZvoJCH278UHc_hfHmv47DaXDJpGu1UiFlNEp-SG2JMtso4zlCl-MqVv0UNcgrBCU7dVWrpVjYZF2TjVP-alQfDNOS_sR6lpJ4t/s1600/IMG_5693+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmEAGskotvOT_Sl6_vzXcuYQqWZtrEemhODTZvoJCH278UHc_hfHmv47DaXDJpGu1UiFlNEp-SG2JMtso4zlCl-MqVv0UNcgrBCU7dVWrpVjYZF2TjVP-alQfDNOS_sR6lpJ4t/s1600/IMG_5693+(1).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorta normal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-k_zjQeIDTLhAK6Q4fRWHwnnjRxTrcDSm8Bl9h_hYa4zcbTpsqHxosdSxWCZHflC7qLFwQvn3FyQNAfN5RsEfuUIMzy9Ox6E7FJH9aFqPSP5Eb-vfDRmXoBoFrWqhxTM4976/s1600/IMG_5696.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-k_zjQeIDTLhAK6Q4fRWHwnnjRxTrcDSm8Bl9h_hYa4zcbTpsqHxosdSxWCZHflC7qLFwQvn3FyQNAfN5RsEfuUIMzy9Ox6E7FJH9aFqPSP5Eb-vfDRmXoBoFrWqhxTM4976/s1600/IMG_5696.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cray-cray</td></tr>
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Part 2: School Begins Again</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgs8ku6M0C5hmxIcRssX36vpYYbD284CSpfo6XC6EOcGI41HIpIRgsUdEq2Oo0ZPHNQA72xwbKUpYSWI4DGcQB7jlDQxDCJoPSmqHw-QgmVapTtMgXQNhSOlk42c1MRkSwmwG/s1600/20140112_105901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgs8ku6M0C5hmxIcRssX36vpYYbD284CSpfo6XC6EOcGI41HIpIRgsUdEq2Oo0ZPHNQA72xwbKUpYSWI4DGcQB7jlDQxDCJoPSmqHw-QgmVapTtMgXQNhSOlk42c1MRkSwmwG/s1600/20140112_105901.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian and I quite enjoyed the return to normalcy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPE0EEoqZ5_X7x4C2aAXJaCbhl8OCoqYayBex9jMgpchQ60LaOu6uZevbSYu80DpX5gdlocjPrMEgbTJ6EpxIhWS28WKlaghfIZnbErJA9zDa8Epxhryati2p-yV1m0hgwoNS/s1600/20140120_111838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPE0EEoqZ5_X7x4C2aAXJaCbhl8OCoqYayBex9jMgpchQ60LaOu6uZevbSYu80DpX5gdlocjPrMEgbTJ6EpxIhWS28WKlaghfIZnbErJA9zDa8Epxhryati2p-yV1m0hgwoNS/s1600/20140120_111838.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys weren't exactly thrilled about it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMWBQ2iV4JZKANWhdvC0vlBKYcmMBhJB71FGNqC-yHJHforq6LXRDCwmmaAVmFFHnpFx_Z4jhnFtJw43vlaYqrvtv0VNFl1zy1fPgNae8cCwQ5-g0UKIapOskfWcLqu-AX-WH/s1600/20140121_160527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMWBQ2iV4JZKANWhdvC0vlBKYcmMBhJB71FGNqC-yHJHforq6LXRDCwmmaAVmFFHnpFx_Z4jhnFtJw43vlaYqrvtv0VNFl1zy1fPgNae8cCwQ5-g0UKIapOskfWcLqu-AX-WH/s1600/20140121_160527.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I began taking karate.</td></tr>
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Part 3: Other Random Good Stuff<br />
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John got to attend a reading of Jeff Kinney's newest Wimpy Kid book and meet the author. This was a thrilling literary event for him, and now we have a signed copy.<br />
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I have turned 37, and since it's now the 3rd day of February, Brian has turned 42. I had BBQ and carrot cake. He chose Indian buffet and "punkin" pie, as Sam calls it. On the morning of Brian's birthday, we ate 1.5 punkin pies with our breakfast burritos. The second half was polished off during half time of the Super Bowl.<br />
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My work has changed big time. The coordinator of our ESL program has gone on maternity leave and left me in charge. I have already done lots of ridiculous things such as hiring an instructor to replace her without checking his references first. It all worked out well in the end, but still. Lesson learned. <br />
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John is working very hard in 3rd grade and making all As. He'll take the state test this year, and he's been practicing at home using a website. His pre-test math/science scores are through the roof (and might I point out that he learns all of that first in Spanish, then takes the tests in English). He's still working on the English/reading/writing piece. He's such a crazy hard worker. He's playing basketball right now and rocking the court. Baseball will start soon. He's also still doing piano and has now decided to also take karate. So, every Tuesday night he and I treck down to Smyrna, Tennessee, which is where my sensei at school has always practiced. Her sensei was trained by one of the original four marines who brought Isshin-Ryu karate to the U.S. Yes, I am worried about all of these extra curriculars, so please do not ask if it's too much. It probably is. There are worse things in the world than quitting karate, however.<br />
<br />
Sam is trying not to spit on people or poke them in the eyes. He is also working hard not to call people a "mama head," which is way better than "fart gas." He's taken to calling himself my "baby cat" and rubbing his head on my legs or shoulders like a cat, making a noise that simulates purring (or blowing one's nose). Inevitably there is something disgusting on his mouth/nose while this is going on, which then gets transferred to my professional attire. He will also start baseball next month, and is more than excited about shopping for a new glove, bat, and cleats. He is really into beyblades and has learned how to take them apart and put them back together with other parts such that they change from "stamina type," for example, to "attach" or "defense" type. He just spent an entire week (minus last Monday) with good reports sent home from school, so he got a new beyblade this past weekend named Pirate Orochi. He's a balance type.<br />
<br />
Brian is trucking along this semester riding on a cloud of his students' great practice test scores. They were so improved that he won a half day off, which of course he won't take because, according to him, "If I want a day off, I'll take a day off -- no need for awards." He is planning spring break trips of hunting and camping and summer trips of kayaking in Colorado. I'm just trying to remember when the kids have birthday parties, practices, and school, so I'm grateful for his event planning skills. <br />
<br />
I think that's all the news around these parts. Hopefully I can crank another one of these puppies out before March.<br />
<br />
OUS,<br />
kKimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-81810292917056745302013-12-05T22:54:00.002-06:002013-12-06T09:25:27.504-06:00Baby Jesus and Zack the Elf Can Both Fly<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5P4Gn1v7UwN-sVxjhkZGVhgblAZ-mOQf7jPr1YXKDKlhyOdW7SgOqPkkZ6ZzhswICdKOVktEGv4y6t5ujrMgNuYZLaUtnH8Z00F_ezX_fo4_oPWZrfUUXOMF2f0vFs403cyIV/s1600/IMG_20131201_185251.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5P4Gn1v7UwN-sVxjhkZGVhgblAZ-mOQf7jPr1YXKDKlhyOdW7SgOqPkkZ6ZzhswICdKOVktEGv4y6t5ujrMgNuYZLaUtnH8Z00F_ezX_fo4_oPWZrfUUXOMF2f0vFs403cyIV/s320/IMG_20131201_185251.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me: Why is Baby Jesus in the air?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sam: Because they threw him up there.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeavhumE0hVe3dyyxyj7pwj0ebaVb2nrzXYpTs3BdTJUX_uxNJmfNGhO1GXEaV5ic5r2wEULJoV2OG1ThfqBhRCmITNtmgVC4hyphenhyphen2KSubbATr9qzA6F1ZV8dpQ1mvP9UuMaeGPp/s1600/elf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeavhumE0hVe3dyyxyj7pwj0ebaVb2nrzXYpTs3BdTJUX_uxNJmfNGhO1GXEaV5ic5r2wEULJoV2OG1ThfqBhRCmITNtmgVC4hyphenhyphen2KSubbATr9qzA6F1ZV8dpQ1mvP9UuMaeGPp/s320/elf.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">We had to bribe him with pretzels, but Zack did come back this year ... with a vengeance! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">On his first night, he perched on the curtain rod (not pictured). Here he is on his second night, pining for the boys while they sleep. (<i>I understand, Zack, honey, they are <u>so</u> sweet when they're sleeping, aren't they? You're not the first to notice.)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Last night, Zack "flew" (as John says) down from the curtains, ate some pretzels (and left crumbs on one of the end tables), and then he "flew" downstairs to hug their portrait, which (John also says) is weird.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">#motheroftheyear</span></td></tr>
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Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-52684991316941388582013-11-26T22:06:00.000-06:002013-11-26T22:08:43.800-06:00Party Pics!<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
Sam's 4th (yet first <i>actual </i>(with friends)) birthday party was held on 11/23/13. Although it felt easy, I think it was a huge success in terms of 4yos.<br />
<br />
Here is the evidence.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqT8vtObSUweDN8Un9JX2k5HxgBq3k_ogaxzJSq-1i4U9HoWVfbl_h5WictwIJvi1NBUDILjXFssrK8D74jhZO1z1kAZaWOdeVx8wzZZA2okEerQMasRi-eQ7H7p1eLJUepTzA/s1600/IMG_5158.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqT8vtObSUweDN8Un9JX2k5HxgBq3k_ogaxzJSq-1i4U9HoWVfbl_h5WictwIJvi1NBUDILjXFssrK8D74jhZO1z1kAZaWOdeVx8wzZZA2okEerQMasRi-eQ7H7p1eLJUepTzA/s320/IMG_5158.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First, KUDOS to Nanny (the Maternal Grandmother Baker Extraordinaire) who made a chocolate football cake AND an entire Lego football scene centerpiece.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnq9nZQOn1LGHWZycx5CV6IoioaZw2tgBceuHcQtPmzL3BaleSnA8_TACFTt0a5If8hd8kHO_ICJYP-yapL7dZPrFe5S5THQa5cfEe7puhNFX79WylSd3AxWe9tDrIhhUOiM6o/s1600/IMG_5088.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnq9nZQOn1LGHWZycx5CV6IoioaZw2tgBceuHcQtPmzL3BaleSnA8_TACFTt0a5If8hd8kHO_ICJYP-yapL7dZPrFe5S5THQa5cfEe7puhNFX79WylSd3AxWe9tDrIhhUOiM6o/s320/IMG_5088.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian was given the job of pinata, which turned out well though it was a somewhat last-minute addition.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWpBOFQRMOY-w5QMSi_vu6A1JFicbzAa-y__5rLjetiCqvNujNJmug1DjtDAXVY3hHRxjOrIPVbKZbfi3-BqOLWFTZFVtl7gbbcu0zZNIcI-nh3elWmmEs-JiYYBuAZprH9Lx/s1600/IMG_5116.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWpBOFQRMOY-w5QMSi_vu6A1JFicbzAa-y__5rLjetiCqvNujNJmug1DjtDAXVY3hHRxjOrIPVbKZbfi3-BqOLWFTZFVtl7gbbcu0zZNIcI-nh3elWmmEs-JiYYBuAZprH9Lx/s320/IMG_5116.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam whacked the pinata with abandon, causing all sorts of extremity damage, including the loss of an arm.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJxS924vSKjlVgqVKZN2QrhkUWdEz_hQ_0ZAZQYaEyoJS3HLqBjMEdIXGrdUtBxlGj_L_BjIqLziCyhsLWtwAw4xnCiFQq-UP6jUf1ZkEyf9zd7sco4UK_hzL1pQskuIVtHDk/s1600/IMG_5117.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJxS924vSKjlVgqVKZN2QrhkUWdEz_hQ_0ZAZQYaEyoJS3HLqBjMEdIXGrdUtBxlGj_L_BjIqLziCyhsLWtwAw4xnCiFQq-UP6jUf1ZkEyf9zd7sco4UK_hzL1pQskuIVtHDk/s320/IMG_5117.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Said arm.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7p6sFc8G5QR2uQUG7e1TaDz_p19FyWnnknCozQozsoSV79vuhznvmHZQSqjN2bfGc9U0O0HpIEsvMvYHIqLlIzwvX4MicUCPC4xvfUHOhFswK97TCnhDD3iZD2iDxwkBCxHwv/s1600/IMG_5135.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7p6sFc8G5QR2uQUG7e1TaDz_p19FyWnnknCozQozsoSV79vuhznvmHZQSqjN2bfGc9U0O0HpIEsvMvYHIqLlIzwvX4MicUCPC4xvfUHOhFswK97TCnhDD3iZD2iDxwkBCxHwv/s320/IMG_5135.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The booty was claimed euphorically.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJVfH2RuWTT0Liv_Ii5L9c5pjZM7bsl_MIHASx6anNkQoytE9yIhOEisBJq6sflcnmUCXEQ7px9NOrHqQQNva4gDbxBf8P_piv5qmMk4C8vr73bpcYffmIcoJsCVMiM1PgT79/s1600/IMG_5072.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJVfH2RuWTT0Liv_Ii5L9c5pjZM7bsl_MIHASx6anNkQoytE9yIhOEisBJq6sflcnmUCXEQ7px9NOrHqQQNva4gDbxBf8P_piv5qmMk4C8vr73bpcYffmIcoJsCVMiM1PgT79/s320/IMG_5072.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then John took over.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_OpoXbz5jRTHa-DKYN30X6ySW-KTUr95PXNoCuGhxFpVo-4ORu3K0gY_O3yB4CxlLJi1zGWWw6m8IyDrxsUn9C9D1QLJPQmG-PdLY9OklVsmO9jn0OtknFfWpb-PscuKL1ih/s1600/IMG_5074.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_OpoXbz5jRTHa-DKYN30X6ySW-KTUr95PXNoCuGhxFpVo-4ORu3K0gY_O3yB4CxlLJi1zGWWw6m8IyDrxsUn9C9D1QLJPQmG-PdLY9OklVsmO9jn0OtknFfWpb-PscuKL1ih/s320/IMG_5074.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The youngers seemed to like chasing the older one.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmbS-5_3nYTlUGHHjvlG-4gotI6WPrmE-CfK9MQNRnQUpvF4KD3Rb0V6ogLLVw1CYrn_tMDELt6UDcLCalJnIh7bD0qVOUmTeNDybyDue4sGYJbjp_xPbobdTK8SKen_bITdE/s1600/IMG_5082.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmbS-5_3nYTlUGHHjvlG-4gotI6WPrmE-CfK9MQNRnQUpvF4KD3Rb0V6ogLLVw1CYrn_tMDELt6UDcLCalJnIh7bD0qVOUmTeNDybyDue4sGYJbjp_xPbobdTK8SKen_bITdE/s320/IMG_5082.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nanny may have also been involved in the Lego cookies which I totally found ALL the directions for on Pinterest. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPBjr1KftkyTgGRMXwnu6saVICO3B_UqPOPHqMrc8lNuV2hQaqWFoSF7oNErExfE5CQ7PjDqYAX6YAQ8F4liy0DpCQOfcOnc12a24iaHNClVpg6eoGjcFPyl4ownYeqju-niJ/s1600/IMG_5173.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPBjr1KftkyTgGRMXwnu6saVICO3B_UqPOPHqMrc8lNuV2hQaqWFoSF7oNErExfE5CQ7PjDqYAX6YAQ8F4liy0DpCQOfcOnc12a24iaHNClVpg6eoGjcFPyl4ownYeqju-niJ/s320/IMG_5173.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First we decorated.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujiCSdqhs5MKQxBdAFxoHKPZEk-ktrLKJeHRyYUh7ibUoHaOBwrYMSZFYyW7u81Hs6MAz0tgsQ9I5gCggddSLhi4h5jsVWgs1vu5BqexYFZBnak4XztIs6LBmoWVdEqoqxbvj/s1600/IMG_5182.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujiCSdqhs5MKQxBdAFxoHKPZEk-ktrLKJeHRyYUh7ibUoHaOBwrYMSZFYyW7u81Hs6MAz0tgsQ9I5gCggddSLhi4h5jsVWgs1vu5BqexYFZBnak4XztIs6LBmoWVdEqoqxbvj/s320/IMG_5182.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then we devoured.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKIgW62rgU3AN9qc6adS8fETD2eoNdm9Mgg6-7FCzXoXwfz4yMcSgoHpbSk5dui6cqrfc7mOHrNAOram9wIwf9mdZu5obeYn1z9dh4bBS7WM7Kt4FxX17wzv3EFrlwlKduiTi/s1600/IMG_5206.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKIgW62rgU3AN9qc6adS8fETD2eoNdm9Mgg6-7FCzXoXwfz4yMcSgoHpbSk5dui6cqrfc7mOHrNAOram9wIwf9mdZu5obeYn1z9dh4bBS7WM7Kt4FxX17wzv3EFrlwlKduiTi/s320/IMG_5206.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Afterwards it was time for some R&R. Here I am reading <i>Awesome Man</i>, a gift by one of Sam's soccer buddies (not pictured). Sam and Elijah seemed quite comfortable in this situation. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WzBEunGRGdLo-FY9yAZ2EAnVBg4jPRg3F4EIndCbNI2vJV3280smstFJZZk0kfzgQ-waisgdFCXBJxW2H2VNkoXKHRCkG8wkmjFrrSWrMJrKv5O1ZCBNTPub86k1ZDljxZJv/s1600/photo+2+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WzBEunGRGdLo-FY9yAZ2EAnVBg4jPRg3F4EIndCbNI2vJV3280smstFJZZk0kfzgQ-waisgdFCXBJxW2H2VNkoXKHRCkG8wkmjFrrSWrMJrKv5O1ZCBNTPub86k1ZDljxZJv/s320/photo+2+(1).JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one seemed comfortable with it all.</td></tr>
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAM-BAM!</div>
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Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-73779065557587131652013-11-25T00:02:00.001-06:002013-11-25T00:06:26.517-06:00To my 2nd on his 4th<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNNnKaJwGOPJU1DKy7F9yaqDqAr3dKxTIOZt9R-TFBgumr6cXojTsbqUQgjMaCf632W005KIJlhoC9GA8fjz7v0QlSw2XEzuKilYrMrqNItJXif4yBZD3-W_tqvfOAhvw1uLR/s1600/IMG_5255.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNNnKaJwGOPJU1DKy7F9yaqDqAr3dKxTIOZt9R-TFBgumr6cXojTsbqUQgjMaCf632W005KIJlhoC9GA8fjz7v0QlSw2XEzuKilYrMrqNItJXif4yBZD3-W_tqvfOAhvw1uLR/s320/IMG_5255.JPG" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Happy birthday Sweet Sam (aka Bam, Bamsy B., Monkey Man)!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tonight as I was putting you to bed, you said this, an obvious echo of my own words: “I’m your baby. I’ll always be your baby, even when I’m bigger than you.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And then you slung your nasty wet “Night-Night” (blanket) into my eye and expressed doubt that there might come a time when you could <i>ever</i> be bigger than me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Regardless. Sam, here are some things that I want you to know, divided into three distinct categories: </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1)</span><span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">Four things you think I don’t know </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2)</span><span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">Four things I think you don’t know </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">3)</span><span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">Four reasons I think I know these things</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Part 1: Four Things You Think I Don’t Know</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3hVXqTQK1lykwsKujN8TtY2axxcH53bz74JVPGq6KzTzNYTp4DsmIhDkqGGwCpqm7UiEaK7wR2zGELqXE2axALkKEjIFkEuQpIPtktOLh8WagSubznsp0VUJObfbcrpn-SoF7/s1600/IMG_8228.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3hVXqTQK1lykwsKujN8TtY2axxcH53bz74JVPGq6KzTzNYTp4DsmIhDkqGGwCpqm7UiEaK7wR2zGELqXE2axALkKEjIFkEuQpIPtktOLh8WagSubznsp0VUJObfbcrpn-SoF7/s320/IMG_8228.JPG" /></a></span></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;">I know that you are picking up on everything. One night when John was making fart noises, I said, “John, no one is enjoying that except you, so please stop or go do it in the privacy of your room because nobody likes that.” And you responded, “Except <i>Quinn</i>.” (Quinn is one of John’s best 3<sup>rd</sup> grade friends).</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know that that you have been trying to make your own “good notes.” Buddy – I’m so sorry that in your short life, one of the most memorable things for you is getting bad notes sent home in your lunch box. We’re on our 2<sup>nd</sup> preschool partially because of this, and it’s mostly because you are not afraid to be a kid … not scared to be mischievous or even brazen. The other day when I went to pick you up, you met me with, “I have a good note!” I was so happy. And then I saw that your “good note” was two recycled and stapled-together “Pre-K Emergency Contact Info” index cards on which you had written “<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">S <sub>M</sub> <sup>A</sup></span>” (Sam) on the back. </span></span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know that you don’t use soap when you wash your hands. </span></span></li>
</ul>
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know that you sneak candy into your room.</span></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Part 2: Four Things I Think You Don’t Know</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNrcZmS0vWd4ZSnQpCWAk-AChol-rQz68Q_ceIGkrCl07AAEmIOA6RiliNZzsbb3QHoqnevuumLGtBaltU493NlbI-GcusepZ8eSJdlJZjFcacisZtJrIHL6kGXRAgjWSXoKH/s1600/IMG_2269.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNrcZmS0vWd4ZSnQpCWAk-AChol-rQz68Q_ceIGkrCl07AAEmIOA6RiliNZzsbb3QHoqnevuumLGtBaltU493NlbI-GcusepZ8eSJdlJZjFcacisZtJrIHL6kGXRAgjWSXoKH/s320/IMG_2269.JPG" /></a></span></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> Sometimes when you’re sleeping, Dad and I watch TV and fold laundry together and crack up about how <i>little </i>your underwear is. Dad says things like, “A person with a butt <i>this small</i> is asleep in the other room.” I almost always have to get up at that point and go kiss your head.</span></span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">Honey pie. A diet of donuts, chocolate chip granola bars, eggs, graham crackers, rice with “wet” (soy sauce), applesauce, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches without crust, mack and roni "<i>bugs</i>," noodles with Dad’s sauce, chips, crackers, chocolate cereal, chicken nuggets, French fries, candy, deli turkey slices <i>(not the Cajun kind)</i>, popcorn, cupcakes, cake, cookies, pie, and ice cream … AIN’T BALANCED.</span></span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYS19HpARJdOUvkGyqAVQSTqL5TMYeeyZZ1v2c_eauyboATTPAQTosG19dST9OUJrDBTGo-vdF6DyAfa7jd_F1JHrXLNEc345rBw11_2R1RZPaGpa3vgzPPdw9CHv5ylEdA-TT/s1600/IMG_8628.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-U9ztdFtjgSYs_A778syYSjeC-_PYRpE24nj_2-btVT8XZB8e6vt7xIX855RtI8VmdM0c04tud7ujR81xjInFOl1C-3O1dtJ6I75klYZSL8Q3FO3tIU6UA5tnIT-SM257zY8/s1600/IMG_3178-1.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a> Night-Night is Nasty and your dad has been cutting little pieces of it away at night while you sleep. Please know, sweet: I have been <i>begging </i>him not to throw it all away while I saw wood. Last night, as you and I were lying in your bed talking about how fun your birthday party was, you said, “I broke Night-Night. I broke his arm.” I said, “I didn’t know Night-Night had arms. Does he have legs too?” After a pause, you said, “Well, he has … ONE.” <i>(I about peed my pants.)<o:p></o:p></i> </span></span><br />
</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I always tell you that you are my “best” (because you told me that once, I reciprocated, and it has stuck). The other night, in an effort not to seem too biased, I told you that you are my best and John is my favorite. You looked at me right in the eyes and said with such <i>conviction</i>: “That’s just <i>not true</i>.”</span></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Part 3: Eight Reasons I Know These Things (4 x 4 = 8)</b></span></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You ARE picking up on everything. There is a phrase that says, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” Apparently, you already have your own version of this … if you can’t <i>explain</i> to them, <i>LISTEN & COMMENT</i>. </span></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe you DO make your own “good notes,” yet your mother sees this as an ability to recognize your own strengths and ignore weaknesses. Someday you shall have a fabulous resume. </span></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You could do <i><u>WAY </u></i>better at using soap. Trust me, love: You do NOT want to get pinworms. </span></span></li>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You ARE sneaking candy in your room. You can keep doing that until I'm dead. There are much worse things you could sneak.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We DO crack up at your boxer/briefs. Honestly, Bubby, they’re hilarious – tiny yet covered in large machinery such as tractors, diggers, and back-hoe loaders.</span></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Y</span><span style="font-size: small;">our diet DOES leave something to be desired. Please try some baked fish <i>at least</i>. </span></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Night-Night IS nasty. But I swear to you that I will not let your dad hack it all away. I will keep some portion of it (in a smell-proof Ziploc bag). </span></span><br />
</li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As hard as it is, it’s <i>best</i> if you learn this now … everybody’s “BEST” is relative, sweet Sam: Even mine. You <i>are</i> my best (favorite?) at many things (e.g., snuggling, pleasing, noticing), but John is <i>also</i> my best (favorite?) too (e.g., eating, arguing, wondering). My love is a like a Thanksgiving pie ... and I will always have enough pie (and love) for both you and your brother. I’m not good at math lovey, but I know this: My love for y’all can <i>only </i>be multiplied, <i>never </i>divided. </span></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Those are some things I have wanted to say to you for awhile now, Love. I have this idea that you will read and understand them better <i>later </i>than you could <i>now</i>, but then again, I have trouble balancing a checkbook and often go left at intersections for no obvious reason. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://photos.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAfWyo0ltpBEc4DlQwZ51sbYADTQ4h3xtaP8yygltiWZouTnI4k8jEFZnyTyGqHIeJj8N1kbms0XXWQj1c7LQuA-ZBPuf59rXAPxH4PaV6JJV5vcGR66y9-21uaG6JypvH9cX/s1600/IMG_4429.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAfWyo0ltpBEc4DlQwZ51sbYADTQ4h3xtaP8yygltiWZouTnI4k8jEFZnyTyGqHIeJj8N1kbms0XXWQj1c7LQuA-ZBPuf59rXAPxH4PaV6JJV5vcGR66y9-21uaG6JypvH9cX/s320/IMG_4429.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Everyone loves you Bamsy ... </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But especially ME.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">XOX,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mama</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="-moz-background-inline-policy: initial; background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent; border: 0px none; padding: 0px;" /></a></span></span></div>
Kimpossiblehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16013215594615569229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645619.post-24449597093615451592013-11-20T20:02:00.001-06:002013-11-20T22:20:32.224-06:00Because red hair.<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBnNRuo8duEPwJnshpaokvoSGUaEHddCVR3oAlzkoiuqJfaUv-ZY15D7Iiwmykn-m59Itg2B5UGVbx0mdoo7qWeOkAPo3Tz-yGURtZUfdF4bYB6Jf9eEKrjv4IcEJs7sPwnOFr/s1600/IMG_20131120_195310.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBnNRuo8duEPwJnshpaokvoSGUaEHddCVR3oAlzkoiuqJfaUv-ZY15D7Iiwmykn-m59Itg2B5UGVbx0mdoo7qWeOkAPo3Tz-yGURtZUfdF4bYB6Jf9eEKrjv4IcEJs7sPwnOFr/s320/IMG_20131120_195310.jpg" /></a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A Treatise Against The Pointing Out of
Reddish Hair</span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Several times a year, someone
points out to me some aspect of the underlying red nature of my hair. <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>And it is never positive. <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>(It’s also usually not overtly
negative, but hear a girl out.) </span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Today someone I had just met
said, “I like to meet redheads. My wife is a redhead.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Cue the angels’ harmonic, “Ahhhhhhh!!”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because most times.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">(Note: <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Today I read an article about how the
word “because” is becoming prepositional and is often followed by nouns. <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Only nouns. <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Because evolution.)</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Most times the recognition of
red hints in my hair is at least<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>indirectly</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>negative.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">And of course I’m sure, quite
sure, that these sayers of hurtful half thoughts are well meaning.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because human nature.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">However.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">My ears change good intentions
(or at least not-well-thought-out intentions) into accusations.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because Kimberly.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Here are a few examples:</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">At the closing on my first
home, previous owner says, “Oh<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>no</i>. <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Another<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>redhead</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>in that house.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">At work: <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>“Did you know that your hair gets<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>redder</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>when you’re<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>fired up</i>?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">At department store: <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>“I know you probably<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>think</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>you’re pale, but the reddish hair
makes up for it.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Newsflash: <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>If I am truly redheaded, then Miley
Cyrus is only a<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>mildly</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>toxic role model for young girls.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because y’all.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">You would never say to someone
with gray hair: <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>“Oh no,
another geriatric in the house.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So, can we please stop the discrimination against angry, temperamental
redheads?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because fairness.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because if you don’t have
something nice to say.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because fear (of redheaded
retaliation).</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because there.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because I’m done.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Because as you were and onward
and upward and sideways and all that.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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