tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80921248099461228262024-03-05T03:16:41.390-08:00Shrimp and KingsAllisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.comBlogger364125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-259683939341716872014-12-19T13:25:00.001-08:002014-12-19T13:25:13.399-08:00We interrupt this silence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I wrote a post a few weeks ago, and didn't hit publish. You should all know how this story ends, but let's rewind a bit, shall we?<br />
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To shed a little light on what it's like to be 32 weeks pregnant with twin babies.
It goes a little something like this.<br />
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Geeze, all this wiggling and kicking. Give me a break!<br />
Oh shit, where did they go. I haven't felt anything.<br />
Poke, prod, jiggle.
Hi baby, thank you. Now, go wake up your brother and tell him he owes his momma some reassurance too.<br />
Oww, that's enough.<br />
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Spend Sunday churching, grocery shopping and sitting on a park bench.<br />
Wake up Monday freaked out by how much you hurt after all that "activity."<br />
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Tell your husband you're feeling really good lately.<br />
Go shopping with your mom. You start running out of breath from picking hangers off the rack. Hangers sporting preemie sized clothing.<br />
You drop something on the floor and look for the nearest husband, kid, dog to help you out because bending at the waist causes braxton hicks.<br />
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You gave up bread, spaghetti, pizza, donuts, cake and burritos to get pregnant. Make it to week 28 to discover your gluten-free lifestyle didn't stop you from getting gestational diabetes.<br />
Your doctor let's you know that trail mix is a good low-carb snack, but limit your serving to one or two raisins.<br />
Lose two pounds in three weeks.<br />
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But holy guacomole people, 32 weeks! That's for real. That's like we might get to take home two little boys real. Like, why are we not ready yet real? Hurray and huzzah and thank golly gee that everything is going so well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCM5COrJA5Dycho1efsmN29817N450WNkmqD45ELkjkb5LmaCFD4tNMBGpEeQSqU1LMi8Son_lg_RWQsQNrBVbqKiCGyC0zkfzUC8058IKE3VelecBerrmWDbAalqNQDnwiTaVCx2qdem/s320/MN-half+baked+047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCM5COrJA5Dycho1efsmN29817N450WNkmqD45ELkjkb5LmaCFD4tNMBGpEeQSqU1LMi8Son_lg_RWQsQNrBVbqKiCGyC0zkfzUC8058IKE3VelecBerrmWDbAalqNQDnwiTaVCx2qdem/s320/MN-half+baked+047.JPG" style="cursor: move;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">20 weeks with Bennett</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">20 weeks with the Twins</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">35 weeks with Bennett<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">30 weeks with the Twins, same sweater! Bigger, Badder, Pointier</td></tr>
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-80500041058795044722014-08-28T11:18:00.000-07:002014-08-28T11:34:12.199-07:00She's Baaaack! <span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">My heart and my head are finally full of something light-hearted and happy. And my belly is full of babies!</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/l/t31.0-8/s960x960/10628832_10100638907161768_6006177386232185283_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/l/t31.0-8/s960x960/10628832_10100638907161768_6006177386232185283_o.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I am 19 weeks pregnant (The halfway mark in a twin pregnancy!) and due in late January, but we hope to make it to Christmas. I'm already large and in charge, scaring coworkers and strangers in my wake. You might get a belly shot or two, but don't hold your breath. Going up stairs I can't catch my breath, but I'm sleeping great. You win some you lose some.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We found out several weeks ago that I'll be the only female of the house. Our littlest boys are doing great. I've been feeling them for a while, but in the past week or two I have felt and seen them from the outside! We had our anatomy scan last week and spines, hearts, kidneys, brains and everything else looked great. They are gaining weight quickly, which is what they want twins to do! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVYiKJLFuGlG_5xUzYQ1bGfGZ9a9bl7wW4uppeE9Amry7xlhmO55gI2TOonnNv0tTK80l0yTMs00wo91nLgNykh9Pbeiw0I0i7Yic4cQ4uE_r_-5QLYn5Oeap3ScmR_tskN-O4tM1ZJo/s1600/Baby+A.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVYiKJLFuGlG_5xUzYQ1bGfGZ9a9bl7wW4uppeE9Amry7xlhmO55gI2TOonnNv0tTK80l0yTMs00wo91nLgNykh9Pbeiw0I0i7Yic4cQ4uE_r_-5QLYn5Oeap3ScmR_tskN-O4tM1ZJo/s1600/Baby+A.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby A, aka "Tot"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7OMcPO9aeXjE3rOVgMumLpY6O2M9aSJgfmeAabIwyMAOlxRy3UloRUIwcGV2xGh3ciEbW3ECtcsZ1HxBx7Yi_DAdzzPoBDcF1vfHJbr__G6-yY-6HpHrVzJ72n0hWDpIWNBXjCDrIIk/s1600/Baby+B.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7OMcPO9aeXjE3rOVgMumLpY6O2M9aSJgfmeAabIwyMAOlxRy3UloRUIwcGV2xGh3ciEbW3ECtcsZ1HxBx7Yi_DAdzzPoBDcF1vfHJbr__G6-yY-6HpHrVzJ72n0hWDpIWNBXjCDrIIk/s1600/Baby+B.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby B, or "Tater"</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Bennett is thrilled to be a big brother in waiting. He now introduces himself as "Hi, I'm Bennett, I'm having two babies." He can't wait to help assemble the cribs and has learned how to hang tiny baby clothes on hookers (or rather hangers in English.) I might be delusional, but I think he will do great with the additions and he loves to be helpful and needed. I think he was made for the job.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGIGqEeX0FZj-rXZ4z5Fkcz8_hS5BFQMvNZcVrT1LaKjqVQ9xN6Yn3KcLO7hIWwDlqkK211vEWSVOTaWyowklRK_QRLIoykeWMYnSHZh3jzK3tzhI66Ww6ZkioU7zMzH1hrwSwvKeeiA/s1600/Bennett+the+Artist.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGIGqEeX0FZj-rXZ4z5Fkcz8_hS5BFQMvNZcVrT1LaKjqVQ9xN6Yn3KcLO7hIWwDlqkK211vEWSVOTaWyowklRK_QRLIoykeWMYnSHZh3jzK3tzhI66Ww6ZkioU7zMzH1hrwSwvKeeiA/s1600/Bennett+the+Artist.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Otherwise, Bennett is great! Recently, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I have been exploding with excitement over Bennett's artwork at home. All of the drawings I have ever had from Bennett are big crazy squiggles and lines. For. Years. Then, Monday night, he sat down and drew grass, clouds, and a network of pipes underground. You could have knocked me over with a feather. His friend was visiting and he was having trouble drawing a person. Bennett leaned over and helped draw a body, a face, hair! THEN, last night, Bennett drew the little dipper. I kid you not, stars making up a constellation. This kid is full of surprises I tell you.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">With all of these changes on the horizon, I was in a big hurry to join the ranks of soccer moms and drive big ole minivan.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkuporcJSNMkh6D7FqA5dHfUHphNUzDDK0-AXzGqjrOBs2XT4LMRfjkefDvaSbAGzadWWzktsAgbDWVDD7nd-m2Bvkrp6wzAl4MwFoXaRRyevFbG2-hfj1BedVcyX1UX5AjB-NadDWrg/s1600/Minivan+Mom.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkuporcJSNMkh6D7FqA5dHfUHphNUzDDK0-AXzGqjrOBs2XT4LMRfjkefDvaSbAGzadWWzktsAgbDWVDD7nd-m2Bvkrp6wzAl4MwFoXaRRyevFbG2-hfj1BedVcyX1UX5AjB-NadDWrg/s1600/Minivan+Mom.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Basically, since we last spoke, I got big and fat, bought a gas guzzler and continued to overpopulate the globe. I honestly couldn't be happier.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-55542764498931562022014-03-19T07:49:00.002-07:002014-03-19T07:49:47.319-07:00Filling in the Gaps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Life and the lack of brain activity has kept me from posting lately. My mind is overwhelmed with the mundane and monumental but I don't intend to give up this space anytime soon. There are just too many topics that require legitimate posts so I'll fill you in on the little things that I'm convinced you're missing.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3bjqTbWsE55kTl-ksYZJu-mGOgZ8FS0HpoREtBx-sataL_k9xKrJHOsKU9f6-b9cSXRuMr16RhlAfGyoMzzbUKi5cBPP4L8mBnvI9owIdjRcQ9cPGbCCFGsWErY-l6_JLaEr9PDVY3w/s1600/photo+(73).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3bjqTbWsE55kTl-ksYZJu-mGOgZ8FS0HpoREtBx-sataL_k9xKrJHOsKU9f6-b9cSXRuMr16RhlAfGyoMzzbUKi5cBPP4L8mBnvI9owIdjRcQ9cPGbCCFGsWErY-l6_JLaEr9PDVY3w/s1600/photo+(73).JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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Bennett learned to make silly faces. Puffer fish faces, mad faces, surprised faces. He likes to ask you what kind of face you're making and then interpret his own version. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF-mvf6bjlxtUBVrCBwfN9BkBm1w8_kOxeTxnK8u6-KeOjisCd2YXvfniUKYKeGj2yUt8ViopLrgBOK3eQbnVYsu0CDK9INVSP52r_8qlrWfyPpRvukfmKwhrnZcXrXY9OnRHwloJnIi4/s1600/photo+(82).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF-mvf6bjlxtUBVrCBwfN9BkBm1w8_kOxeTxnK8u6-KeOjisCd2YXvfniUKYKeGj2yUt8ViopLrgBOK3eQbnVYsu0CDK9INVSP52r_8qlrWfyPpRvukfmKwhrnZcXrXY9OnRHwloJnIi4/s1600/photo+(82).JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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He's made a real best friend. They live across the street and now they go to the same school. They've asked if they can live together. A few weeks ago his bff got his pants dirty at school and had to borrow an extra pair of B's. He slept in them that night because he couldn't bear to part with them. </div>
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The house next door got bulldozed to make way for two new ones. Whether we've been gone five minutes or overnight Bennett will say "still broken" when he sees the demolition. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZfS7zHnwEycIkSZoGEWBiFAdzKDK_J1ZNTY1mcTQCsPPu0O1qzNNmSQj4cIWU9VZYldBmSgV43MKnGhrTeWp1-E9sX7tMk6OvX3fA6DCiNR08qKFgF8RMbeSajxrofAFyO_clM6mLgE/s1600/photo+(84).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZfS7zHnwEycIkSZoGEWBiFAdzKDK_J1ZNTY1mcTQCsPPu0O1qzNNmSQj4cIWU9VZYldBmSgV43MKnGhrTeWp1-E9sX7tMk6OvX3fA6DCiNR08qKFgF8RMbeSajxrofAFyO_clM6mLgE/s1600/photo+(84).JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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Way back in January an amazing friend gave me a week's subscription to <a href="http://www.blueapron.com/" target="_blank">Blue Apron</a>. They mail you pre-measured ingredients for three meals for two people. The quality of ingredients was pretty decent and the recipes challenged us to try new things like bok choy and lemongrass. I was delighted and if Rocky made it home at a decent hour on a regular basis I wouldn't mind splurging on this little culinary adventure.</div>
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The other night when I was putting the kid to bed, he picked up a book and started sounding out all the words on the cover. It was so precious and I couldn't have been more proud. Watching my child grow up is so bittersweet, but when there are these bursts of accomplishment it makes my heart explode.</div>
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Life isn't always filled with fan-club worthy content, but it is the giggles and grins, spicy shrimp curry soup and the ha-ha-ha's and mm-mm-mm's that are occupying my silence these days. Thanks for the patience for these in-between times when I don't have anything to scream from the rooftops!</div>
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-24976735490951542572014-02-26T13:30:00.003-08:002014-02-27T06:54:27.622-08:00Somethings Are Worth CelebratingAnd those things should absolutely be written about, not neglected to good intentions and camera roll purgatory. Sometimes a thirty-first birthday deserves a proper write-up. It's ok to rise from the ashes of a crap year and put on your party hat. It's also ok to spend several car payments on a dinner and two minute ride in a Lexus. This boy earned it.<br />
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To celebrate Rocky's birthday with proper pomp and circumstance, a few days after Christmas, we left Rocky's family farm in East Millers Cove and drove the five minutes to West Millers Cove. We drove past the community cemetery, the country church and a few farm houses until we hit the famed white fence of the Inn at Blackberry Farm.<br />
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I started to feel giddy. It was pitch black as we curved the bend, passing a dozen black SUVs. We registered at the front desk where we were escorted to our own luxury vehicle to make the trip back up the hill to the barn to dine. I made a few asinine comments to our driver about Vanderbilt basketball. I think I was trying to prove to our escort that we weren't just two kids that don't belong. After all, I'm sure he's driven Mark Zuckerburg a time or two so why would he care if it's just me and my farm boy?<br />
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We entered the barn into a winter wonderland. It was dark and rustic with an enormous fir tree in the middle of the room. I scanned the room searching for a Mark Zuckerburg or a Trisha Yearwood or a Mitt Romney. No dice. It was a room full of middle-aged parents who must have also left their barnacles with the grandparents.<br />
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We ordered the tasting menu and enjoyed a few items I never would have considered otherwise, things like guinea and squab. Every morsel I ate was superb, <i>even </i>the guinea and the squab, and the beef and the beets and the bass and the feta and the chocolate and the brussel sprouts.<br />
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If they can make amuse bouche (Guinea Croquettes in a Thyme Nest) look like this you can only imagine what the rest of the meal entailed. And you will have to imagine because I was too nervous to pull out my camera for beautiful course after beautiful course.</div>
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The evening was a divine experience from start to finish. I've had many great meals, but never in my life did the food, the ambiance and the service all exceed my expectations. Now that I've had a taste of Blackberry, I hope I can have a facial and a skeet shoot and a shut eye. While I was able to cross off Blackberry Farm from my Bucket List, I just put it back on. I'm looking for more excuses to celebrate.</div>
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.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-84188453556137215582014-02-03T11:26:00.000-08:002014-02-03T11:26:15.780-08:00Life Lately<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Hi friends. Wanted to drop you a line, say hello and fill you in on what you've missed.</div>
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My trip back to Minnesota kind of sucked, except when it didn't. There were a lot of beautiful moments. Grandma sure had a lot of friends, every one of them believed themselves to be her <i>best </i>friend. If that isn't a sign of a life well-lived, I'm not sure what is.</div>
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I got to meet this little nugget. <i>Finally</i>. Miss Evie is a doll baby with a personality to match. Can't believe I missed her crawling by 24 hours. </div>
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Photo-bombing is not limited to the Millennials. Who wouldn't want to be a Swanson?</div>
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Bennett likes to eat his feelings too.</div>
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What good is a trip to Minnesota without some new state-pride duds? Little dude couldn't wait to put them on. He could wait to take a proper picture. Yay for neighbor friends and yay for fruit snacks!</div>
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This child is all three these days. Jekyll one minute and Hyde the next. This shirt surely speaketh the truth. Don't know who is going to take over the responsibility for shopping for name-inspired apparel. Grandma certainly left some big shoes to fill!</div>
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-1040587389739567352014-01-29T10:44:00.000-08:002014-02-07T10:45:07.072-08:00What We Learned: 39 MonthsLiving with a thirty-nine month old kid I imagine is a lot like living with a thirty-nine month old man. They think they know everything and won't listen to a darn thing a woman says. We have spent some quality time correcting and disciplining lately. If it wasn't for spontaneous hugs and requests for kisses, there are times when I wish I could move his belongings to the front lawn.<br />
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Bennett learned that mommy will let you stay up til nearly midnight and scream inside once a year.<br />
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We learned that it's worth dealing with a drowsy dude to have an evening of adult conversation.<br />
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Bennett learned that even though you may have twelve days off of school for winter break and snow days, eventually you need to go back to learning your letters and using inside voices.<br />
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We learned that ten days off isn't as much fun when you're stuck inside, new Christmas toys, pirate ships and all.<br />
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Bennett learned to differences between a fire truck, rescue vehicle and fire chief car.<br />
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We learned that books, boats, and rescue trucks have much greater value when the giver is gone.<br />
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Bennett learned the power of holding his tongue.<br />
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We learned that the kid doesn't mind sitting on the stair for an hour.<br />
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Bennett learned all the words to the Lord's prayer.<br />
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We learned to forgive his trespasseses.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-77510468608258211212014-01-21T13:53:00.000-08:002014-01-21T14:05:51.384-08:00Hey JuneSometimes I am silent because I have nothing nice to say and sometimes I am silent because I have too much to say. This time it's a little bit of both.<br />
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My grandma June passed away today. I know everyone feels that their grandparent is one in a million, but mine really was. She was silent but strong, meek but not mild. She went on dates and played poker and nursed a scotch and soda at every holiday. She would have liked to wear turtlenecks even in the summer because at 80 she wanted to cover the wrinkles on her neck. Grandma sent us Valentines and Thanksgiving cards with a million stickers on the envelope. She wrote "happy birthday" in quotation marks. Her favorite memories of her time in France involve burlesque dancers. It is so very appropriate that we will be celebrating her life at a bowling alley.<br />
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Grandma June was the first person to hear I was pregnant besides my parents. She was so thrilled you could feel her scrunch her body with a giggle of gratitude. With our trials of the past year, it felt like she was fighting with me, praying even though she's not a prayer. June wasn't a baby person, but she wanted the best for everyone, always.<br />
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My cousins helped write a book of memories and photographs for her Christmas present. There were lots of stories about celebrating twenty-first birthdays with her, but also memories of Thanksgiving Yiftis and Christmas pajamas. There were surprising additions too, memories of digging for worms and dancing in a parade. I'm not sure we all did her justice because none of us deserved the millions of little ways she showed she loved us. Now those memories and pictures are at the top of a large stack, one that I wish we could keep adding to.<br />
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-54071585783856349802014-01-07T11:29:00.004-08:002014-01-07T11:31:01.479-08:00B is for Bennett and Beyonce<span style="font-family: inherit;">It came to my attention recently that there is another someone else calling themselves B, Ms. <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">, or as some of you may know </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mononymous_person" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.1875px; text-decoration: none;" title="Mononymous person">as</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Beyoncé. I just call her Queen Bey, but whatever. Besides monikers it does appear that Bennett and Queen Bey have a few other things in common. </span></span><br />
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Maple Syrup Diet<br />
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For Bennett's second year he consisted mostly on pancakes and syrup. Then, we discovered he was allergic to artificial syrup. Once upon a time, Beyonce started a new diet craze called the maple syrup diet. I'll do just about anything to prevent this situation again:<br />
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For the Love of Target<br />
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Or at least she liked Target on Facebook. Bennett <i>loves </i>Target. On our last drive to the farm, he informed us that all the trucks on the road were making deliveries to Target.<br />
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They like fish<br />
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Queen B broke her vegan diet by eating fish. Bennett broke his carb and cheese diet by discovering popcorn shrimp.<br />
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They like cake.<br />
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They feel the same way about pants.</div>
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In fact, Bennett makes this same face when we ask him to wear pants.</div>
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So maybe this was just an excuse to dust off some old Bennett pics again. I just want to be sure there isn't any confusion who B is in these here parts. Because man does this kid have a future in entertaining. I'm not so sure I have a future in backup dancing, or singing because heck, I have pants on. <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/dlqXo8FFIko?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-37730781938498041282014-01-06T14:39:00.003-08:002014-01-07T11:30:14.851-08:00Christmas 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I realize this post is a little late, but I finally had a minute to download photos while stuck at home with our first snow day of 2014. Of course, the snow required for a snow day is about as real as Santa. Therefore, I figure I remain relevant, even 11 days later. Without further adieu, my Christmas photo dump!</div>
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Our nine foot tree that required the emptying of our mad money fund and moving two pieces of very heavy furniture. Now that the tree is gone, we had to purchase new furniture because someone's patience does not allow for old furniture to be returned to it's rightful home. Got that? Post forthcoming. (Hope you can wait at least 11 days.)</div>
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Obligatory Christmas jammie picture.</div>
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A Cars umbrella! Everyone was surprised but me that this was such a hit.</div>
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About fourteen presents in, the child was still asking where the "monster truck with buttons was." </div>
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Success!</div>
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Bennett explaining where Santa, not the presents, come from.</div>
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He wasn't quite sure how Santa delivered a tent to his room while he was sleeping and not quite certain how it got down that chimney. But that present was money honey.</div>
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We did eventually put clothes on, pants even!</div>
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The grandparents arrived, showered the kid with even more presents and we ate some things. In true Bennett fashion the more ornate and the more raucous gifts were overlooked in light of a new collection of books. Even at three, it's becoming apparent that my child's desire for simple make-believe things will be snubbed in favor of the virtual and the violent. It's just my hope that the magic of it all keeps us all entertained and happy for another year or two. </div>
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The greatest gift of all this season and always is that precious boy and our little family. </div>
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-64497162438821485862014-01-01T10:52:00.000-08:002014-01-01T10:52:00.501-08:00Onward and UpwardI am trying to keep resolutions this year simple: no more negativity. We have plenty of things to worry about, but I don't want to bore you, my friends or my family by the little hamsters racing in my mind. I know I have pushed some friends (virtual and otherwise) away with my fears and my honesty. I need to learn a little from Hannah Horvath and quit the over-sharing.<br />
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Or worse. Yikes.<br />
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I have so much to be grateful for and I don't want the challenges to overcome the good stuff. 2013 was a doozie and I am happy to be turning the page and welcome 2014 with gusto. Feel free to slap me when I start whining again in February. I'll do the same when I see you put that pain au chocolat into your pie hole. Happy New Years!Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-32476864377446332212013-12-29T12:20:00.000-08:002013-12-31T10:09:21.326-08:00What We Learned: 38 Months<br />
This monthly check-in seems to coincide nicely with the end of the year. When I try to recollect all the things that the past month has taught us, it's hard not to think of what the past year has taught me. 2013 was the year of no pants. Yes, dear readers, my 38-month old munchkin has become a pseudo-nudist. I'm sure I'm supposed to be embarrassed about this fact, but the truth is I love it. You just never know what you might find when you come home from the grocery store or come down stairs, or enter the playroom. My little pants-less wonder is still a wonder, even after 38 months.<br />
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Bennett learned that in the winter, the house is freezing.<br />
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We learned that while socks are necessary, pants are not.<br />
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Bennett learned to take his clothes off.<br />
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We learned that unfortunately, he still needs our help putting them back on.<br />
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Bennett learned two verses to<i> "</i>Jingle Bells."<br />
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We learned that hahahaha is best sung in a toddler falsetto.<br />
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Bennett learned that Christmas is for candy.<br />
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We learned Bennett has "hands good for opening presents."<br />
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Bennett learned to roll dough, use a cookie cutter and dust sprinkles.<br />
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We learned that his new favorite phrase is "howbou howbou howbout." Also known as "how about" on repeat.<br />
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Bennett learned that Santa gives toys to boys who share.<br />
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We learned that even dozens of cookies will not compensate for one missing.<br />
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Bennett learned that tennis shoes are not made for puddle jumping.<br />
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We learned that Bennett thinks all hats in the house belong to him.<br />
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-78277800168852432112013-12-23T08:51:00.000-08:002013-12-23T08:51:38.427-08:00Making Merry MemoriesBennett is at such a special age this Christmas. Last year, I was able to enjoy the fact that he was old enough to appreciate the decorations, the treats and the presents without all the gimme gimmes that accompany the season. Unfortunately, I am not sure we can say the same this Christmas. This child has changed his mind about his list about 14,000 times including things from pirate telescopes to drums to capes to trucks with buttons. Thankfully, I've been able to fulfill some of the more reason requests and ignore the ridiculous. Ahem, arrrr.<br />
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We are also trying to start a few family traditions while also taking stock of what we should really be grateful for this season. I found an adorable advent calendar at a craft shop and was thrilled to find that the little pockets were large enough to accommodate chocolate, matchbox cars or even Christmas socks. I was not thrilled to find my little sheister starting to request more and more preposterous things for said advent calendar. Ahem, arrr and vroom vroom and toot toot. I do think it is possible Christmas jumped the shark around the third of December. My hopes for the advent calendar were further dashed when I noticed I purchased an advent calendar with a typo.<br />
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Ok, let's try another memory maker. Let's do something kind for a stranger! I spent several hours in the cooking, baking and decorating for our local fire station. When we arrived the fire fighters were very engrossed in their lunch and didn't seem to be very surprised that a toddler was giving them cookies. Then, said toddler remained too embarrassed to sit in the fire truck or even say Merry Christmas. Ahh, maybe next year?<br />
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When it came time to visit Santa I believed I had done enough coaxing to persuade my little munchkin that he didn't need to be afraid. Sure, he had been negotiating that he wouldn't sit on his lap, but rather sit next to him and in no way would he be coaxed onto his lap. I was so proud when he stood in that line for nearly an hour with nary a tear or a groan. By the time we were up next he flipped out and told me I had to go up there with him. And that is how I found myself in the Santa picture for a second year in a row.<br />
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At least he looks happy, right? Of course, as I went to pay the elves, he stood there chatting with St. Nick for a good five more minutes, delaying the rest of the kiddos. I would have much rather had a picture of that!<br />
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However you choose to celebrate, I hope your holiday is very Merry!</div>
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-4700435291732406672013-12-20T09:24:00.001-08:002013-12-20T09:24:04.807-08:00Happy FridayI hope you all have a great day. I know someone else who is!<br />
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-31034300292545256712013-12-17T08:36:00.001-08:002013-12-17T08:36:59.852-08:00Justified<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Last week I did something I rarely do. I didn’t put on a Suit
and Tie. I played hooky. It was about time I spent some time with My Kind of Girls. We know this girl needed it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mel, Aubrey and I are no strangers to finding an excuse for a reunion, even if it happens on a Wednesday in Indianapolis. I certainly didn’t mind the drive because I had more than Four Minutes to myself. More like four hours to think about Rock Your Body and Bringing My Sexy Back.</div>
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This was no Summer Love. This was a ride with intermittent
flurries and frozen wiper fluid. Miles after miles of snow covered plains that
reminded me over and over again that What Goes Around Comes Around. Comes
Around Comes Back Around. With a pile of snow.</div>
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But a random trip to the heartland is worth it with or
without the Casanova. I needed my Senoritas. They listened to me Cry <s>Me</s> a
River. They were like my Mirror, trying to pull me through, saying “you just
gotta be strong.”</div>
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Then we composed ourselves and made sure Justin Timberlake
would Give it To Me, with a full band, (tubas included!), light effects,
travelling stage and some hunky back up dancers.</div>
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It was a great reminder that I don’t need a superstar to Let
The Groove In, just a few Sexy Ladies. Now we’re planning another trip, it’s just Why, When, How? Because these
girls are My Love, Until the End of Time. </div>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-20690442743664453342013-12-06T07:45:00.004-08:002013-12-06T07:45:53.026-08:00These Are a Few of My Favorite Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Once upon a time I made a similar list and my husband almost killed me. He had already finished his Christmas shopping and Santa's bag was filled with some eerily comparable gifts. Apparently, the man reads my mind. Since our gift giving philosophies have evolved over the years, I don't have to worry about such a conundrum. </div>
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I don't share my list for spoiling me purposes, but for spoiling yourself purposes. And with pop culture hating on Carrie today, I figured maybe my vast readership could change the conversation and focus on my favorite things and not Ms. Underwood's lederhosen. </div>
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<a href="http://www.bodenimages.com/productimages/ZoomLarge/13WAUT_AR580_NAV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.bodenimages.com/productimages/ZoomLarge/13WAUT_AR580_NAV.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
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I've been loving on this Boden booties for years. This year's version is velvet. Velvet!</div>
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The most adorable gloves from Anthro.</div>
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Continuing the bow trend, Kate Spade's new clutch. This is a must for all the yachting I anticipate next year.</div>
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<a href="http://www.redbarnmercantile.com/media/products/khall_peony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.redbarnmercantile.com/media/products/khall_peony.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I love love love this candle. You don't even need to light it to smell the pretty peonies.</div>
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<a href="http://cdn2.bigcommerce.com/server2800/91692/products/61/images/387/saltycaramelspoonhead__27788.1305469467.220.220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn2.bigcommerce.com/server2800/91692/products/61/images/387/saltycaramelspoonhead__27788.1305469467.220.220.jpg" /></a></div>
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Now this is where my list gets weird, but really all I need for Christmas (besides a baby of course) is a pint of ice cream from Jeni's. I think Santa could figure a way to keep it frozen in my stocking, right? Salty Caramel is my fave, but I can't wait to try the dark chocolate peppermint. </div>
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<a href="http://nashville.metromix.com/content_image/thumbnail/4x3/223/528676" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://nashville.metromix.com/content_image/thumbnail/4x3/223/528676" /></a></div>
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Continuing in my shop local/eat my feelings category, is the amazing house salad dressing from bread and company. Maybe Santa could replace the coal in <strike>my </strike>your stocking with dry ice?</div>
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-23943201179791851832013-12-03T11:03:00.001-08:002013-12-03T14:57:00.604-08:00That whole no babies thing<br />
This might be difficult to read and I give you permission to skip this entry if you don't want to hear the tough stuff.<br />
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This spring, I had a miscarriage. Then, a month ago I had another. Both times the baby stopped growing but my body continued to produce hormones and I failed to miscarry on my own. I needed surgery. It was painful and very sad. Some days I feel broken and other days I feel like hurrying up and trying again.<br />
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What makes our situation more complicated, is that we can't just open a bottle of wine and wake up to a second pink line a couple weeks later. For us to have a baby it takes medicine and a miracle. Some of our friends and family know the dirty details, but for my sake and the sake of my child(ren) I hope you will forgive me for leaving the specifics offline.<br />
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When we felt ready to start our family and quickly learned we needed help, I couldn't imagine living childless. I was desperate and got down on my knees to pray. I begged for a child and fully believed that as long as I had one I would be happy. I begged for at least one and we know I finally got lucky. For nine months I tried to savor the experience knowing it might be my only shot. When I was in labor with Bennett, I vividly remember standing in the shower, rubbing my belly because I was so afraid it would be the last time.<br />
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I have waffled back and forth about writing about this here. Once upon a time, I wanted to but I couldn't and wrote an anonymous blog instead to get my feelings off my chest. Part of me needs to write to help process the weight of these emotions. So much of my silence this year and so much of what has already been published is influenced by my infertility. Yet, I need to discuss it on the blog and perhaps even let other people know they don't need to suffer in silence.<br />
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We have known since the beginning what a miracle that child is and I don't want to take it for granted, but I know that my heart still wants another. I just have to believe that with the trials and tribulations we have encountered on this journey, this is going to be one very loved baby. And that's just it, I have to believe.<br />
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-27147783108675848962013-11-29T07:14:00.000-08:002013-11-29T07:14:00.291-08:00What We Learned: 37 MonthsI nearly quit this blog series two years ago, but you folks encouraged me to forge ahead. It's a good thing I did because this blog would probably have about 1/3 less content if it weren't for these little updates. A third birthday felt like a good place to close this chapter, but Bennett continues to enlighten and delight us. My failure to produce a legitimate baby book is guilt trip enough to continue on with these entries. These entries are safe for another year.<br />
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Bennett learned to crack peanut shells, peel a banana and pop pomegranate seeds.<br />
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We learned that while he might not like spaghetti or cheerios, his palate is beginning to expand.<br />
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Bennett learned that wearing masks and mastering "trick or treat" is worth it.<br />
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We learned that our kid is surprisingly a surprisingly generous sharer.<br />
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Bennett learned that sharing and vegetables are a good compromise for taffy, chocolate and lollipops.<br />
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We learned that sometimes he likes his privacy.<br />
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Bennett learned that starting your sentences with "When I was a baby," gets your mommy's attention.<br />
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We learned that he has quite the imagination and quite the memory.<br />
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Bennett learned that riding ferris wheels, staying up late and eating doughnuts every day isn't half bad.<br />
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We learned that he still misses us, even when distracted and spoiled.<br />
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-16376191859840009332013-11-28T06:44:00.000-08:002013-11-28T06:44:00.844-08:00ThankfulI hate how trite and contrived blog posts like this can seem, but this year more than ever I think I need to remind myself just how grateful I should be.<br />
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I am thankful for parents and grandparents who fill in and help out like back-up quarterback, ready, eager and grateful.<br />
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I am thankful that my husband is in a career and a job in which he excels and enjoys.</div>
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I am thankful for facebook, instagram, twitter and text for helping me feel like friends aren't too far away.</div>
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I am thankful for our neighborhood supper club to help us find our place.</div>
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I am thankful for each day we get closer to closing the chapter on 2013. </div>
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I am thankful for waterproof mattress pads, M&Ms and Lightning McQueen.</div>
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I am thankful for my healthy, talkative, silly little boy.</div>
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I am thankful for his hugs, kisses and stories.</div>
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I am thankful for a calendar beginning to fill with concerts, weddings and trips.<br />
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I am thankful for heated seats, that sweet spot when your windshield wipers perfectly match the pace of the rain, and when a song from high school surprises you on the radio.<br />
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Despite the struggles and the challenges this year has brought, I know how lucky I am to have faith, hope and support. I am also so very grateful for this outlet and for the friends and connections this little space has brought. May you and yours have a lovely Thanksgiving!<br />
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And Bennett would like to add, he's thankful for race cars!<br />
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-61936469315825343372013-11-19T13:50:00.002-08:002013-11-19T13:57:25.663-08:00Viva Las VegasTwo weeks ago, Rocky's boss invited him to take his place at a conference in Vegas. It seemed like the answer to a prayer we hadn't even said. He happily agreed to go, got his mother to volunteer to take the barnacle, and bought me a plane ticket to join him. He was giddy and I was game. While Sin City isn't exactly my destination of choice, it was high time we took a break.<br />
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The weather was beautiful, our lodgings divine, and an expense account made the rest of the trip possible.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5nCFPHBSBi1QV35inUNDT_8WtLGHOuUveG3fHOMrX1-WteeekDos6PTbleOsXv-FzHJjACsyJ6OpM-3xnARTTPYrpgrEDouDoT1AmMQxgoqlc0cMZw5Z2iX8LvudQE3nOIjZ3L8mY7s/s1600/photo+(52).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5nCFPHBSBi1QV35inUNDT_8WtLGHOuUveG3fHOMrX1-WteeekDos6PTbleOsXv-FzHJjACsyJ6OpM-3xnARTTPYrpgrEDouDoT1AmMQxgoqlc0cMZw5Z2iX8LvudQE3nOIjZ3L8mY7s/s320/photo+(52).JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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We didn't stay at the Encore.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwju25OQHho65Xd4wlpXYh9nM8iEhMmwpSp4Ghgdj1DgfJEHeefMy18cMI766ddk_oL9Fac6hJJH5TH9CRR6YxVN81jpl6fw4HeaBH-gli6YdQuljYYLnu630ChXL8cU-_bJ5_KpSH4pE/s1600/photo+(62).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwju25OQHho65Xd4wlpXYh9nM8iEhMmwpSp4Ghgdj1DgfJEHeefMy18cMI766ddk_oL9Fac6hJJH5TH9CRR6YxVN81jpl6fw4HeaBH-gli6YdQuljYYLnu630ChXL8cU-_bJ5_KpSH4pE/s320/photo+(62).JPG" width="239" /></a> </div>
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Or the Wynn.</div>
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl15J5I6L7wtginlRyPa1AR-F7uZVZ823Y4H-m8wNuTCCvsmCESLWoFY3Ysd8nFkYqKuGH1-8Hpu6KLHnnm6RhIGavtqtDWitT_19YealbQIsT3v4KlTdtCR3Kp8q71axBhGqQZHQTepc/s320/photo+(61).JPG" width="320" /></div>
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Or the Bellagio. </div>
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Our digs weren't too shabby though. We loved the Cosmopolitan.</div>
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After a couple of rounds of playing black jack at the machines, we came down with a little routine and walked away ahead every time. We're no Rounders, but our drinks were paid for our and we didn't feel too guilty when we dined with the Tom, Danny and Jose.</div>
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I'm quite the burger connoisseur, and this Buffalo Burger was delish. Too bad Rocky couldn't say the same for his fish and chips. That and the atmosphere left me thinking this place may not survive until our next trip to town.</div>
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We might have waited ages for a fountain-side table, but our second night with Tom English was better than the first.</div>
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While Rocky worked to pay for my supper, I was busy eating my supper. By the end of the trip, I got quite good at dining alone sans book or phone. Fried brussel sprouts will do that to a girl. </div>
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Jose Andres's China Poblano concept seemed like a Vegas version of Minneapolis' decade old Chino Latino. It's good the tacos were fresher than the concept.</div>
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While my pictures might make it appear otherwise, I did more than eat. I also spent an afternoon at the pool and a night at a show. Did you know in Vegas they don't print playbills? I'm not quite sure how they expect a blogger to review a show where photography isn't allowed and you don't have a playbill as proof you were even there. Anyhoover (which I still haven't seen), I would have to say that Jersey Boys was a winner, especially when you're thirty years younger than the rest of the patrons and the tipsy seniors sing along the entire time. </div>
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All in all, it was a lovely trip. Even if this is the only proof I was there and not just my camera.</div>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-41139985721569643722013-11-14T07:14:00.006-08:002013-11-14T07:14:52.560-08:00That's What B Said<div style="text-align: center;">
A: Hey Bennett, I'm going upstairs to change my clothes.</div>
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B: Ok, don't pee on your pants!</div>
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I was headed out to a meeting, hugged Bennett and started to leave. Bennett chased after me.</div>
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B: "No mommy, boys need two hugs!"</div>
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While we were trick or treating, we came upon a crumbled retaining wall.</div>
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B: "No worries. I can fix it. I'm a super hero!"</div>
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After wandering around Rocky's office, B discovered something was missing.</div>
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B: There's no toys around here. Can you believe it?</div>
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Typical bedtime shenanigans, typical bedtime toot.</div>
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B: I didn't toot, it was my engine.</div>
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A: Your engine?</div>
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B: Yeah, it's broken.</div>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-69936600946356943822013-11-01T11:12:00.003-07:002013-11-01T11:14:25.802-07:00Halloween With A ToddlerIt was Bennett's fourth Halloween. For his first, he was only two days old and I was worried I would break him or something if I put him in his little pumpkin shirt. For his second, he cooperated and wore the sweetest little cow costume a mommy could find. Then last year, he had an epic meltdown when I tried to clothe him like the Cat in the Hat. Giant Failure of Epic Proportions.<br />
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I figured I had one last year to play up the adorable card before he wanted to accessorize with weapons or imitate an obnoxious video game character or some such nonsense. I selected not one, not two, but three costumes that were greeted with horror, stomping and the squealing of "NONONONONO!" But mommy really wants you to be a little lion, or a gentle bat. A pirate? </div>
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Then one day a couple weeks ago, a friend brought Spider Man cupcakes to celebrate his birthday at school. My not quite three year old had decided. I ordered a fourth costume and a book about super hero to hopefully coax him into the costume. It might not have been my choice, but I did not want to have the one kid who refused to cooperate at the pumpkin party.</div>
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The package arrived and he wouldn't let me open it. Halloween arrived and he wouldn't let me try it on. When I told him kids who wore costumes got candy, he insisted he didn't want candy. Walking into his class he told me to take it out of his backpack and throw it away. But then, he saw two other spidermen and a Super Man. He wanted that thing on and he wanted it on "NOWNOWNOW!" He even wore the mask. I could hardly believe it.</div>
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There was severe weather here last night, so we get Halloween take II tonight. I am hoping for a few more smiling, less blurry pictures for the occasion. At least when he wears a mask he will smile for the camera!</div>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-56742656755365923152013-10-29T11:27:00.001-07:002013-10-29T11:27:08.198-07:00What We Learned: 36 MonthsWe have known that Bennett was a miracle from the first fleck of a heartbeat we saw on an ultrasound. When we met that slimey, screaming, hairy newborn we knew he was a miracle. When we dedicated our wide-eyed baby we knew he was a miracle. When he finally crawled, finally walked, finally talked, we knew he was a miracle. On his third birthday, the knowledge of what a pure, sweet, amazing miracle our child proves to be day in and day out is still a surprise, still a miracle. Getting to witness this child grow and become his own little person has been such a delightful journey. Three years later I am proud to say I am not taking that for granted.<br />
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Bennett learned that you can celebrate birthdays for days.<br />
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We learned that one celebration calls for pancakes, one for doughnuts, and one for cake.<br />
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Bennett learned that he is three years old.<br />
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We learned that sometimes he's two and sometimes he's five and to just nod and go with it.<br />
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Bennett learned that bats are interesting, witches are scary, and mom is a princess.<br />
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We learned that it's normal to come home and find a nekkid little kid coloring, fighting snakes or playing trains.<br />
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Bennett learned to master the juice box.<br />
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We learned that everything is still splattered with milk and shoulders are covered in drool.<br />
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Bennett learned how to drive a truck, buckle in a baby dinosaur, and load the truck.<br />
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We learned this is the age of exploding imaginations.<br />
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Bennett learned that instruction manuals, calendars and coloring books tell the best stories.<br />
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Bennett learned to have opinions on jackets, underwear, socks and footwear.</div>
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We learned that our kid has some mad fashion skills, when he chooses to put pants on that is.</div>
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-74478089734286142702013-10-28T12:23:00.000-07:002013-11-25T12:29:35.779-08:00A Party!Saturday we celebrated B's birthday with his first kiddy party. We have had a little shindig for the mister every year, but after far too many invites to classmates' parties, I didn't think I could avoid it any longer. When Bennett woke up on the wrong side of the bed Saturday morning, I wish I had.<br />
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I once worked with a woman who only had horrible things to say about her kid. Her daughter misbehaved, stole and lied. The kid was three. I felt bad for the mother, but worse for the kid. Then Saturday, at my son's third birthday, I was making jokes about <i>his </i>awful behavior. He was telling me he didn't want to have a party. He didn't want his friends to come and he was going to throw them and their presents in the water. Yikes.<br />
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Thankfully, when the first of eight children arrived with their parents, my kid was happy, polite and the perfect host.<br />
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We were shocked when Bennett said he didn't want a cake at his party, but would prefer doughnuts. Alrighty, works for me.<br />
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The rest of the day was just as successful, the scavenger hunt to fill the tool boxes, decorating the hard hats, the menu, the friends. Sure, the present opening was a hot mess, but with eight toddlers we should have expected nothing less.<br />
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But it was fun! My kid was thrilled. Everyone seemed happy they came.<br />
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I convinced my husband to help me assemble tool boxes from woodworking kits. I sent him outside in the cold to drill holes in construction cones. He went on a wild goose chase to pick up the balloons and we both stayed up late cooking and cleaning. I understand a little better why parties are at the park, Germy Cheese and anywhere but home. I also understand a little better just how much I was asking of my own parents when they wrote murder mysteries, baked my cake and hosted dozens of sleepovers. I also understand just how much your barnacles deserve to be celebrated, wood glue, construction sets and all.</div>
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-77003660557715506172013-10-25T10:58:00.000-07:002013-10-25T10:58:48.615-07:00Playing HookyBennett attends a Montessori school full-time. It's one of those situations where the teachers and staff treat it like a fancy preparatory academy and the parents operate like it's a daycare and disregard rules about snotty noses (I'm a primary offender) and wish they were open past rush hour and on the weekends (only sometimes). Because of this confusion, we parents are faced with quarterly parent-teacher conferences and the corresponding school closings (this is only slightly less annoying than closures for "summer vacation" and "fall break"). We send our kids (with green noses) to school 40 hours a week because we work 40 hours a week and would much prefer daily texts and notes home than wrangling back-up child care or sacrificing our precious vacation days for said parent-teacher conferences.<br />
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The inevitable happens and yet another school closure sneaks up and you and you gripe and moan. But then you don't have to wake up and shower and you can enjoy your leisurely cup of coffee while you kiss your husband goodbye and you kick up your heels. Parent-teacher days maybe, perhaps don't suck.<br />
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Bennett certainly doesn't think so. When your day begins with the discovery of Lightning McQueen stamps at the post office, it has to be an indicator of a pretty awesome day. From there, we treated ourselves to breakfast smoothies immediately followed by a lollipop at the kiddie hair salon. You would have thought I blew this little kids mind when I took him to the indoor play area at the mall. I'm not sure we will ever take this kid on a legitimate vacation when this is the kind of fun he can find by himself at the freaking mall.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't think this kid even liked to dance, but apparently super-sized faucets bring it out of him.</td></tr>
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We had a legitimate errand to run at the mall, but the kid got sidetracked by Build a Bear. The lights! The music! The stuffed my little pony on roller skates! The grown adults that program plastic hearts to contain teddy bear personalities! I knew we were a goner when he saw the play bath tub where he got to brush his new best friend's fur.</div>
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But to this little kid, the supreme ultimate was the packaging. His new friend got a house! That we had to carry around the rest of the day! All future purchases had to go to the house! (We have not seen the new best friend since he can't come out of said house.) Next time, we're buying the cheapest creation there, going straight for the bathtub and departing with the house.</div>
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The spoiling only continued from there, grilled cheese and chocolate milk for lunch. A visit to the toy store for a "I'm sorry I made you get a flu shot on the best day ever" toy train. And as if mom hadn't spoiled this kid silly enough for one day, she taught him about licking batter off the beater. </div>
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I'm going to have to negotiate for more days off because we can't wait until the next parent-teacher conference. For the record, his teachers told us he is smart, attentive and not the least bit spoiled. </div>
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8092124809946122826.post-75967993787207635612013-10-11T12:16:00.003-07:002013-10-11T12:16:38.426-07:002013 Is Not the Year of the BlogSo, in response to my lack of posts, I am going to fill you in with some pictures from my absence. In summary, my kid is still cute.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Master Cupcake Eater</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not embarrassed of his mom quite yet</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDsanvnoJTe4jDb714l58niStugDdiADGZOTMA_tG1ll9KpeXj1D_a94WB4NiVdldtfXKqYrpL3mziQoB-y4OyTlLYjzsuryFcDWkOmv3Ofe__QVmiCjAfcBECUbcMyjJjFh1dNbcoF8/s1600/photo+(17).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDsanvnoJTe4jDb714l58niStugDdiADGZOTMA_tG1ll9KpeXj1D_a94WB4NiVdldtfXKqYrpL3mziQoB-y4OyTlLYjzsuryFcDWkOmv3Ofe__QVmiCjAfcBECUbcMyjJjFh1dNbcoF8/s320/photo+(17).JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driver on the right side of the car, barn in the passenger's seat and cute kid relegated to the back.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzNDdNkOl6RwVeYifXsUKyudHd4Y_0f1cxqCnYZ6IU-RVi7Ti_CXoMp1_Tu7x5Ch11if5QjrrkJSz92Of7TLEAGEODQoUNR1sHsWzoXg3401qig_BX4T757hSqDTjJQ8uWw2d7-sQC7Y/s1600/photo+(19).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzNDdNkOl6RwVeYifXsUKyudHd4Y_0f1cxqCnYZ6IU-RVi7Ti_CXoMp1_Tu7x5Ch11if5QjrrkJSz92Of7TLEAGEODQoUNR1sHsWzoXg3401qig_BX4T757hSqDTjJQ8uWw2d7-sQC7Y/s320/photo+(19).JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Staying in the lines. </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/AVvXsEjIfZmG-erOLAtyE_BCnoHXG3anPAi540SaKINF3gjItAsUVCP910d6VBl08z3x0Nny1jt2l1IgJ3TVC-mqecy0Zuf94k_zU_8O7TEuvoUC1H6mneo5mjwfgwGQKTSrfwkqOExzZ7_dYb4/s1600/photo+(20).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIfZmG-erOLAtyE_BCnoHXG3anPAi540SaKINF3gjItAsUVCP910d6VBl08z3x0Nny1jt2l1IgJ3TVC-mqecy0Zuf94k_zU_8O7TEuvoUC1H6mneo5mjwfgwGQKTSrfwkqOExzZ7_dYb4/s320/photo+(20).JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time for a haircut.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And a live action feed:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzY9kdFgpQQ1Zm4AOm0TEH4p3z9DUMl2_JK37ecUTOTTrirAQiZ3NmhTOfIAWHarh7Rao8LT7idelSigxAwmw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br /></div>
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Pantless Joe Jackson</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxEKBPFHlWBKxgLflAPDfqtBSvBlyMq5DVjAOhrOy60SRMdQBFRpoBYPMRa3Ex2XQu_D5XKqyRxYucn5hQZwQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Dinosaurs on their 225 millionth birthday</div>
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01548375339206838476noreply@blogger.com0