tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9080651103800890462024-02-22T01:26:25.690-08:00Babies Are SimpleCeliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.comBlogger698125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-39450984847613684382014-08-12T22:52:00.000-07:002014-08-13T10:07:21.589-07:00About As Personal As it GetsToday, when I have logged onto any type of social media, I have been bombarded with the newest topic up for discussion and debate: suicide.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Normally, these articles wouldn't affect me so much, and I could find a way to logically separate myself from the painful comments and dismiss them. However, due to recent events in my life, I have been incapable of stifling my emotions while reading articles, comments, and posts. Getting off of Facebook and avoiding the news have been the best route for me to go, but I felt compelled to write down my feelings regarding suicide and share them. Typically, when I feel the overwhelmingly strong desire to write about something I feel passionate about, I am able to squelch the compulsion and move on. This time, not so. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I was a child, I often heard stories about my great uncle Cece. His black and white portrait hung in the hallway of my grandparents' house, and I often found myself drawn to his picture, studying his face. He was remarkably handsome (and young) in his army uniform. The smallest hint of a smile was upon lips, and the softness in his eyes suggested he was a kind man. By all accounts, Cece was a wonderful person; he loved his wife, adored his young daughter, and was well-respected. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The thing I could never understand was why he committed suicide. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I knew the details leading up to the incident: his wife left him for another man, took their daughter, and was threatening to keep him away from his child for the rest of his life. Feeling completely hopeless, he went to the train tracks, laid down, and waited. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Emotionally, I knew he must be hurting to take his own life, but logically, I saw the ramifications of his actions decades later (a grandfather, who had been more like a father to his younger sibling, racked with guilt to his dying day) and came to the conclusion that suicide was incredibly selfish. Suicide had robbed his family of more time with the man they loved, and his child would definitely grow up without a father because of his decision. Of course, I felt sorry for Cece, but at the time, I had no way of knowing how complex human emotions can truly be. I also had no knowledge or experience with mental illness.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Years passed and I found myself thinking about Cece one morning. It was my junior year of college, and I was in the throes of prolonged depression. After struggling to admit I had a problem, I finally broke down and called my mother as soon as I knew she would be awake. I sobbed as I pleaded with her to come to Utah and help me. I knew something was wrong with me emotionally and mentally and that I couldn't overcome it alone. Thankfully, I was able to put aside suicidal thoughts, walk to my college campus, go straight to the counseling center, and stand there.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I couldn't even ask for help. I just stood there and sobbed. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I remember the receptionist was looking downward as I approached her desk and quickly told me in a dismissive voice, "If you're here without an appointment, we can't help you today." And then she looked up. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Whatever she saw in my face had her quickly changing her tune. She stood up, came around the counter, and hugged me as I sobbed. I managed to tell her, "I need help." She muttered some soothing words, took my hand, and walked me to a room. The walls were empty and cardboard boxes littered the floors. She quickly explained that the lack of available appointments was due to one of the therapist retiring that day. She continued on, saying he would make an exception and see me immediately. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't remember what we talked about when the therapist eventually entered the room, but I do know I had come to my own conclusion that something inside of my mind wasn't right. I was struggling with the concept that I was now a "depressed person." How had this happened to ME?? My identity, for the large part, had always been based upon the fact that I considered myself to be upbeat and positive. In high school, one of my senior superlatives was "Most Distinct Laugh" because I was always laughing and smiling. The reality that I was no longer that charismatic person was unsettling and sent my whole mental state into a tremendous upheaval. I wasn't a depressed person. I couldn't be depressed because that meant admitting I had issues I couldn't handle on my own. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fortunately for me, though, I was finally able to ask for help when I needed it the most. I had loving friends who picked me up from the counseling center and then took me to IKEA (because it sounded like a "happy" place to me) while we awaited the arrival of my mother. Things improved for a while with the help of therapy. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A few years later, I found myself utterly drowning again. I was a young mother with a colicky newborn, and I was battling extreme post-partum depression. For weeks, I wasn't able to make the connection that something wasn't right mentally and that I needed to ask for help. I had a beautiful, healthy child, a loving husband, a new home, and a seemingly wonderful life. Why was I so sad? Who was I to complain?</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">At church, I felt completely isolated by my depression. I felt like everyone could see how miserable I was and that they could tell I was only pretending to fit in. Illogically, I began to think everyone was judging me and condemning me to wear some sort of scarlet letter that announced I was a fraud. If they knew I was depressed, they might think I wasn't righteous enough or praying enough or believing in the Savior as much as I should. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I lay awake in bed one night during this time (listening to my colicky baby scream and scream), I was reminded of a scene from the movie </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">The Hours</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">. I had watched this film years earlier in a high school English class and one scene came to my remembrance with a powerful rush. Julianne Moore's character is a 1950's housewife who is struggling with severe depression. At one point during the movie, she drops her children off with a neighbor and goes to a hotel to commit suicide. She lays on the bed as she contemplates death and begins to dream. In her dream, the room is suddenly flooded by rushing water. She and the bed are engulfed by the </span>flood<span style="font-family: inherit;">, and she is literally drowning in her own grief and sorrow. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That is how I felt. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next Sunday at church, a woman named Susan Evans McCloud taught the Sunday school lesson to the women of our ward. Sister McCloud wrote the LDS hymn <a href="https://www.lds.org/music/library/hymns/lord-i-would-follow-thee?lang=eng">"Lord I Would Follow Thee"</a> and that Sunday, she explained the events that inspired her to write some of the moving lyrics. She specifically focused on the lines, "Who am I to judge another, When I walk imperfectly, In the quiet heart is hidden, Sorrow that the eye can't see." I found an <a href="http://www.deseretnews.com/article/705377203/The-writing-of-Lord-I-Would-Follow-Thee.html?pg=all">interview </a>where she states almost exactly what she shared in her lesson. Here is the excerpt that moved me the most:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px solid rgb(225, 225, 225); color: #464646; line-height: 1.3; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My younger </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">sister Lora's fifth child had been born with Down Syndrome. Sarah was </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">delicate and beautiful, with dark black hair and deep, deep eyes. Her condition </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">was critical because she had a heart defect which would require surgery if she </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">was to live, <span class="italic-text">but </span>she had to become </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">old enough and strong enough to survive the operation. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">She did not make </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">it, but died gently, almost imperceptibly, in her mother's arms.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">The day following </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">Sarah's death I went with my sister to shop for some things she needed, </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">including a little locket for the baby to be buried with. As we walked through </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">the mall, my heart ached. I longed to run ahead and say to each sales clerk we </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">were approaching, "I know we just look like two young women out shopping, but</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;"> </span><span class="italic-text" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;"><b>her baby died yesterday. Please be kind</b> to </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">her."</span></i></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px solid rgb(225, 225, 225); color: #464646; line-height: 1.3; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Some were kind,</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">and some weren't. But the experience had a lasting impact upon me. </span></i></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px solid rgb(225, 225, 225); color: #464646; line-height: 1.3; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">For years </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">afterward I would watch people — look into the face of a man or woman who was </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">being rude or impatient on the highway, at a store counter or waiting in a line.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">I would think:</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;"> </span><span class="italic-text" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;"><b>How do I know what they</b> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">are going through? Maybe they found out they have cancer, or lost their job. Or </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">perhaps someone they love very much has just died. What is happening </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">inside, what burdens they are struggling to bear, do not show in their faces — any </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 1.3;">more than it had shown in my sister's and mine.</span></i></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">After hearing these words, I knew I was depressed. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I was almost desperate for someone to ask me what was wrong, yet terrified at the same time to admit I wasn't myself. I lived on the brink of a nervous breakdown and worried that even the smallest amount of criticism from a friend or even stranger would send me over the edge. As I thought about Susan Evans McCloud and her song, l began to realize (again) that in addition to feeling overwhelmed, there were also some chemical and hormonal imbalances in my mind. I eventually was able to receive the help I needed. </span>I also knew her lesson had been the answer to my fervent prayers--said when I felt the weakest and most alone.<br />
<br />
This song and its moving lyrics recently resurfaced in my life. While reading an <a href="http://www.deseretnews.com/article/865608233/Sorrow-that-the-eye-cant-see.html">article </a>on suicide, the author wrote how stumbling across the words, "In the quiet heart is hidden, Sorrow that the eye can't see" helped her come to terms with her sister's death. I know I have been searching for comfort myself as <span style="font-family: inherit;">I try to process the suicide of my stepfather. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He passed away four weeks ago. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">After all of my own experiences with depression and suicidal thoughts, I still wasn't prepared for suicide to impact my life the way that it has. For the past 28 days, it doesn't feel like what happened actually took place. It's too horrible to process most of the time, so I try my best to avoid thinking about it. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But when my children are sleep and I'm laying in my bed, I stay awake imagining how my stepfather, Steve, must have felt before he ended his own life. I have cried, pleaded with the Lord for understanding, and prayed for peace to come into to my heart. I have felt saddened, frustrated, confused, hurt, and found myself saying out loud into the darkness of my room, "Why? Why, Steve, why?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
Just a few weeks ago,<a href="http://babiesaresimple.blogspot.com/2014/05/what-hyperemsis-gravidarum-means-to-me.html"> I admitted</a> that earlier this year I had suicidal thoughts due to my pregnancy related sickness. The night after my feeding tube was inserted, I cried as I tried to speak to the nurse in order to tell her I just wanted things to be over. There was too much physical pain and mental trauma. I didn't want to try anymore. And despite the feelings of empathy and sympathy, I still hurt. I still grieve. I hate that this happened. </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I want to be angry with someone, and I want to scream and voice every frustration and grievance. But, like my sister said, "suicide leaves you without someone to be upset with." How could we possibly be angry with Steve when he was obviously hurting without our knowledge? There were no signs or indicators to show he was depressed (and certainly not </span>suicidally<span style="font-family: inherit;"> depressed), so our family has been left with a lot of questions and profound confusion. I keep coming back to the hymn and the fact that in Steve's case, his sorrow was truly hidden. He carried his grief alone; he allowed no one to shoulder his hurt (and that sounds like something he would of course do). </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's been hard to separate the gentle man who so lovingly took care of my mother and was kind to my children with the person who took their own life. As I've thought about it more and more, I have come to the conclusion that it's hard to separate these two images of the man I knew because I shouldn't be trying to create a division in the first place; the Steve that committed suicide is still the same man who loved my mother, the Gospel, and his family. No actions will change that.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have read hurtful comments that suicide is "selfish" and "a choice," but I disagree. With the cases of my uncle Cece and now my stepfather, I believe they both saw suicide as the only option. In some convoluted way, they thought that ending their own lives would actually mean they were less of a burden to those they loved. That might not make sense to some, and I suppose that's okay. It makes sense to me, and it's helping me come to terms with Steve's unexpected death.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know that death (including suicide) cannot change the the character or the legacy of a person. Placing further judgment and condemnation upon a person who is already dead is never necessary. Instead, we should continue to love them and show compassion and mercy. I'm still learning how to do this, but I can say with a certainty that it is helping. As the Apostle Peter wrote, we are to have "compassion one of another, love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous'" (Peter 3:8).</span><br />
<br />
And lastly, I wanted to share some words from <a href="https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/10/like-a-broken-vessel?lang=eng#1-10791_000_27holland">a talk</a> given by Jeffrey R. Holland. I truly love this man and the counsel he gives.<br />
<br />
<i style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2f393a; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Sans', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Whatever your struggle, my brothers and sisters—mental or emotional or physical or otherwise—do not vote against the preciousness of life by ending it! Trust in God. Hold on in His love. Know that one day the dawn will break brightly and all shadows of mortality will flee. Though we may feel we are “like a broken vessel,” as the Psalmist says,</span><sup class="noteMarker" noteref="10" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: #2f393a; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Sans', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </sup><span style="color: #2f393a; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Sans', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">we must remember, that vessel is in the hands of the divine potter. Broken minds can be healed just the way broken bones and broken hearts are healed. While God is at work making those repairs, the rest of us can help by being merciful, nonjudgmental, and kind.</span></i><br />
<br />
It is my sincere desire that we can be more willing to pause and lift one another and refrain from passing judgments. Let's just love and support one another rather than assume we know what is going on in the lives of others. </div>
Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-81441617611440859342014-05-15T21:45:00.000-07:002014-07-28T21:57:43.077-07:00What Hyperemsis Gravidarum Means to Me<span style="font-family: inherit;">After the twins were born, I looked at them and thought: "Three kids is enough. I'll be happy with that number of children." I told myself to remember how blessed we were to have three healthy little ones and not to focus on the large family of four or five children I had envisioned before marriage. Logically, I knew it wasn't a possibility.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Months and then years went by before I finally acknowledged that our family wasn't complete. Someone was missing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Instead of being happy or excited about welcoming a fourth child into our family, I was filled with dread and even despair. Although the idea made me overjoyed, the reality that I would have to endure pregnancy another time kept me awake at night praying, thinking, and researching why I am one of the 1-4% of women who suffer from Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I was pregnant with Eliza, I couldn't stop throwing up. By the time I went to the emergency room for fluids, I was severely dehydrated and reprimanded by the doctors and nurses for neglecting my body and my unborn child. I just thought pregnant women got sick and assumed I was complaining about normal symptoms. A few weeks later, while visiting my OB/GYN for the first time, my doctor discovered my body was going into renal failure and diagnosed me with Hyperemesis Gravidarum; I was incredibly sick. He gave Nathan and I such a stern lecture on taking care of my body that Nathan almost passed out. When the doctor told us I could die, I remember Nathan's legs buckling as he sank to the ground. I was immediately admitted to the hospital, set up on IV therapy, and somehow survived without long term damage to myself or Eliza. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My pregnancy with the twins was a similar situation. This time, though, I asked for help. I even begged for help when doctors began running out of viable options. I received IV therapy, had a feeding tube inserted, and lost 20% of my body weight despite constant rounds of medicines and fluids. Throwing up 20 times a day left me so weak that I could not work. Because of the severity of my illness, my job actually considered me to be disabled. I remember thinking how accurate that word was to describe me. My father is a paraplegic, so I have always taken disabilities seriously, and I do not use that term lightly. My medications left me so drugged that I could not drive, I alternated between vomiting constantly and sleeping because the medicine didn't have any real effect on my body and sleeping helped me escape the torture, I relied on my husband and my mother-in-law to bathe me and brush my hair and teeth, and I couldn't go to any appointments without a wheelchair nearby. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a nightmare.</span><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/AVvXsEjR_NsYD9aiei1isxr69dyVgjJrSRFdroo9nFpyoEXqhyrM8gZ_EKsKc2h2bMPmfXxjnot7sF00GB2nz0Pn8o35I9HywoRcWq_uxN7rfDOe04LBeyG8zrJC4e1-M4eCvde7W2BGduEQr3c/s1600/photo+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_NsYD9aiei1isxr69dyVgjJrSRFdroo9nFpyoEXqhyrM8gZ_EKsKc2h2bMPmfXxjnot7sF00GB2nz0Pn8o35I9HywoRcWq_uxN7rfDOe04LBeyG8zrJC4e1-M4eCvde7W2BGduEQr3c/s1600/photo+%25283%2529.JPG" height="628" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">16 weeks pregnant with the twins versus a healthy 34 weeks pregnant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Becca would come by most days and just sit with me, and Amalia would help braid my hair. I remember being too ashamed to have most people visit me because I felt like I couldn't control my body or who I was. I didn't want people seeing me wallowing in self-pity and trying desperately not to give into the sadness that was overtaking my life. The night after my feeding tube was inserted, I lay awake listening to the machine pump formula down the tube that was inserted through my nose and into my intestine. I could hear Nathan breathing beside me and tried to focus on his comforting presence, but after a few hours, all I could hear was the machine. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't move without the machine following me, and I felt trapped. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I began praying to Heavenly Father and asked Him to take this trial away from me. I prayed and told Him that I had learned everything that I wanted to know from this experience and that I would be okay with no longer living like this. All the while, my throat burned from the tube rubbing against its raw tissue, and I did my best not to cry because becoming upset only caused the tube to move and created more painful friction. Eventually, I couldn't stop the tears. I felt sorry for myself. I felt angry this was happening to me. I wanted to die. I knew I psychologically and emotionally couldn't handle much more. I had reached my breaking point.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next day, I vomited so forcefully that the feeding tube became dislodged from my small intestine. My prayers had been answered (although in a round about way), and I pushed myself to drink Carnation Instant Breakfast constantly in order to avoid another tube. This is what I had hoped to avoid experiencing ever again.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq66KlHWyUHa2JC8wBSuwPrgYfUVpNjEYHeO-2TzoCaVtkwr-_WMTmB7B9_7Qgrik5YGj0UOKLNYfd-BPn1PHESv-qdg-djqd7N0biTPS1pdzoFJJYV7aJ_3TFdndVdXKFxPImSLg8r8I/s1600/photo+%25286%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq66KlHWyUHa2JC8wBSuwPrgYfUVpNjEYHeO-2TzoCaVtkwr-_WMTmB7B9_7Qgrik5YGj0UOKLNYfd-BPn1PHESv-qdg-djqd7N0biTPS1pdzoFJJYV7aJ_3TFdndVdXKFxPImSLg8r8I/s1600/photo+%25286%2529.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am currently 17 weeks pregnant with our fourth child, and I unfortunately have gone through almost the same exact trials once more: IVs, hospitalization, a feeding tube insertion, and even vomiting up the feeding tube. The silver lining this time, though, is that during my feeding tube insertion, doctors did a biopsy of my small intestine and discovered I have an extreme case of Celiac Disease. I have been gluten free for 5 weeks now and able to eat small meals once or twice a day for 2 weeks. Because my small intestine is so destroyed and weakened, my gastroenterologist told me I would be dead in 5-7 years if I did not stop eating gluten; I suppose I <i>did </i>have more to learn after all. </span><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/AVvXsEj61gOdX1y77wEs5OfTbIT59zw-hS7yUG8cTC3G471GyU9Alrvp28Uk0X12mugRNPNQwAeo8Agydn1OcAvpKlb_LyX1rk6_ZemKyAytNcBXnbMQd0f3dL0ptFi7WKrr1c-RIglvfznFDEM/s1600/photo+%25284%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61gOdX1y77wEs5OfTbIT59zw-hS7yUG8cTC3G471GyU9Alrvp28Uk0X12mugRNPNQwAeo8Agydn1OcAvpKlb_LyX1rk6_ZemKyAytNcBXnbMQd0f3dL0ptFi7WKrr1c-RIglvfznFDEM/s1600/photo+%25284%2529.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12 weeks pregnant with baby # 4</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have hesitated to write about my current pregnancy because I knew that most of my posts would be negative due to the trials in my life. I also know that my experiences with Hyperemesis may make it seem that I am ungrateful for my fertility, but I assure you that I am indeed grateful for my children and my body's ability to produce such healthy babies. I just wish my pregnancies were a little less cruel. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhre-6YOFxpmhPt2GCN2BPnf-c6adwr4Lz9cIYynkmu5CF9Mcfq2AHCxn1tgMQvUu2ydj7lqXtXuWqkuCZX4dUbH6EgLyeJcBMnrtErYqzbF6OrldiW3TtWmyjQ-9qypMv01aRCflfpzTg/s1600/photo+%25288%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhre-6YOFxpmhPt2GCN2BPnf-c6adwr4Lz9cIYynkmu5CF9Mcfq2AHCxn1tgMQvUu2ydj7lqXtXuWqkuCZX4dUbH6EgLyeJcBMnrtErYqzbF6OrldiW3TtWmyjQ-9qypMv01aRCflfpzTg/s1600/photo+%25288%2529.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have been keeping a journal during this pregnancy, but finally decided to share my story after speaking with my doctor. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">A few weeks ago, he told me, "Please promise me you'll keep a journal of what you are going through. One day, your child should read about everything you were willing to endure to have him or her. And even if you don't think you are strong, you are. You knew it would probably be like this and you decided to have another baby anyway. To me, that takes courage." </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6o9CSW7Bxgsq14P5Qe9Qt_0T4eKyWrq1wiWyD-ZTxUzHkSnbdp54wdZQbZPOj0hfi7xnvgsDKwlbTzT5L5_gHjyDjYtfLhFMEYFQM8Z9xt3PMNgx_wwZqnVFGDWTMlg6kRcmZsIC_E4/s1600/photo+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6o9CSW7Bxgsq14P5Qe9Qt_0T4eKyWrq1wiWyD-ZTxUzHkSnbdp54wdZQbZPOj0hfi7xnvgsDKwlbTzT5L5_gHjyDjYtfLhFMEYFQM8Z9xt3PMNgx_wwZqnVFGDWTMlg6kRcmZsIC_E4/s1600/photo+%25287%2529.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And yes, to me, Hyperemesis Gravidarum is about having courage. It's about surviving countless IV insertions and bouts of nausea and vomiting and focusing on the ultimate goal: having a child. I'm not saying I'm a hero by any means (because I have cried countless days), but I am able to face each trial because I have the knowledge that it will all be worth it in the end. Sometimes, this goal seems far away because this illness is such a thief. I feel like months of my life have been stolen from me. For weeks, Eliza would come to my bedroom and tell me, "Mama, you missed all the fun today while you were in bed." And for months now, my husband has been the sole parent, a full-time student, an employee who works from home, and a nurse who administers my IVs. He has done it all, and it has taken everything from him in return. Seeing Nathan and my children suffer because of my sickness has been demoralizing. I have suffered from immense feelings of guilt and have felt like an incredible burden to everyone I know. Furthermore, I have felt completely alone with the severity of the sickness. My doctor told me I was the sickest pregnant woman he had ever seen during his 30 years of practice. A few days ago, he hugged me and with tears in his eyes told me that knowing I had gained weight was an answer to his prayers. He let me know he had never seen someone "so desperate for relief" and that thoughts of me crying in my hospital bed often kept him awake at night (and yes, my doctor is the nicest man in the world). I was crying that night because I felt like no would could ever know how much pain I was feeling. I felt like my ability to relate to others was taken from me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ultimately though, Hyperemesis Gravidarum has forced me face the reality that I will never have more children biologically. I know I will never put myself or my family through another pregnancy again, but I obviously do not regret any of our pregnancies. I am grateful for our wonderful friends and family members who have gone to the hospital with me, brought us meals, watched our children, cleaned our house, and braided my hair. My current pregnancy has shown me the selflessness others possess, and Nathan and I have been truly overwhelmed by love. I'm trying to focus on how fortunate we are to know so many loving people rather than the torture I have endured. It helps most of the time. I'm just glad the worst is over (although an IV currently remains in my hand). </span><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/AVvXsEhDZW2XDaVB1tSiG1s8RbNr2OQUK_tVOfDC-iTmah3xMNOXjPH4a4YQxXdm3YypKcanjwr3De7xqR5Vf57nPHCWIM2Pr_4xW8PbgoPwC2xifRUtI0kK3CgfF8AUdeqg6lqCwyYO42vWkck/s1600/photo+%25289%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDZW2XDaVB1tSiG1s8RbNr2OQUK_tVOfDC-iTmah3xMNOXjPH4a4YQxXdm3YypKcanjwr3De7xqR5Vf57nPHCWIM2Pr_4xW8PbgoPwC2xifRUtI0kK3CgfF8AUdeqg6lqCwyYO42vWkck/s1600/photo+%25289%2529.JPG" height="640" width="507" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">16 weeks and doing better!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today is HG World Awareness day, and I thought I would tell my story. <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px; text-align: center;">For more information on Hyperemesis Gravidarum and support if you or someone you know is suffering from this illness, contact the Hyperemesis Education and Research Foundation (HER) at </span><a href="http://www.helpher.org/">http://www.helpher.org</a>/<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px; text-align: center;">. </span></span>Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-27285018365623028342014-03-04T10:14:00.000-08:002014-11-11T22:09:55.960-08:00And So It Begins...Yesterday, Becca ended up taking me to the emergency room for fluids. I was dehydrated after days of vomiting and so weak I could barely get out of bed. I felt like we were there for the longest time as the doctors monitored me and gave me multiple bags of fluid. Even with the intravenous anti-nausea drugs, I was still dry-heaving and then vomiting any water or crackers I was given. I can't say that I expected anything different.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGXyYU7S80iE93CV5IQqo0DH5VifPR0x400tzzsi8y-IfJkmCgJdMzCpXzbBEQyU9kJATo2cKGhtNCt45S9A4KpjSY3P9aiQJgzpfoQKae2bB7X6zcjhpJT5bsHWb73OfBW5IJ8jq9UA/s1600/IMG_8659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGXyYU7S80iE93CV5IQqo0DH5VifPR0x400tzzsi8y-IfJkmCgJdMzCpXzbBEQyU9kJATo2cKGhtNCt45S9A4KpjSY3P9aiQJgzpfoQKae2bB7X6zcjhpJT5bsHWb73OfBW5IJ8jq9UA/s640/IMG_8659.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
The ER doctor wanted to admit me because of my inability to keep water down, but I let him know this was typical with my pregnancies and briefly explained my history of hyperemesis. He called Dr. Warner (my favorite doctor in the world) and discussed my situation before feeling comfortable with me going home. The two of them arranged for me to get set up on IV therapy starting today, and I am relieved to know I will not have to continually go to the emergency room for fluids before the IV therapy starts. These doctors definitely weren't messing around! I am so grateful I didn't have to beg and plead for help this time around.<br />
<br />
Bring on the fluids!<br />
<br />
And in other, more amusing news, the twins did this to their room today when I tried to enforce nap time in their new beds. I thought they would possibly nap because their big boy beds are so cute and inviting, but I was certainly wrong about that. You see what I mean when I say there is definitely no time for throwing up these days?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwm_ENitIzgYLuhgYOZxKCX1eqrmX-PAeI_oqUGYRpTrkZD-Bz5orNEYv5Oxyq7nvvjDSca5jakw0gqqXkwlR_lDWet0Hs-_I329Y-H7_G8yvH4TJAstfm40NaVnXbdZaxmeSF_ud_tTs/s1600/IMG_8658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwm_ENitIzgYLuhgYOZxKCX1eqrmX-PAeI_oqUGYRpTrkZD-Bz5orNEYv5Oxyq7nvvjDSca5jakw0gqqXkwlR_lDWet0Hs-_I329Y-H7_G8yvH4TJAstfm40NaVnXbdZaxmeSF_ud_tTs/s640/IMG_8658.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-19516611641220247772014-03-01T21:54:00.000-08:002014-11-11T21:54:22.585-08:00Whelp! Here It Is!I'm finally going back and publishing some of the posts I had written months ago. And I've got to say...this is a pretty exciting post :)<br />
<br />
<div>
So.....</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>I'm pregnant!</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The back story to this pregnancy is incredibly long, but I want to have it recorded for my children (and myself, I suppose). So, here it is!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When the twins were just a few weeks old, Nathan had a pretty strong impression that we were going to have another baby. Ezra and Elliott had a doctor's appointment, so he loaded their carseats into the minivan and sat down in his seat. As he was preparing to start the car, he looked back in the rear view mirror at Eliza's empty carseat and had the distinct thought that another child would sit there some day. Because the boys were only a couple of months old, he did not immediately tell me about his experience. I'm sure he thought I would panic if he even breathed the words "another baby."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A couple of days after Nathan's experience, I also had the distinct feeling we would have another child. I was taking a shower (I always joke that my profound thinking and spiritual experiences occur while showering because it's the only time I ever have alone) and suddenly had the words, "There's another" pop into my mind. I had just gotten over mastitis, and I have to admit that I wasn't jumping for joy when I had the impression. In fact, I felt overwhelmed and then guilty I wasn't excited about the idea.<br />
<br />
Of course, I immediately talked to Nathan about my feelings because I process things by talking about them. He then told me about his experience earlier in the week and my heart started pounding as I realized that we would probably be completely crazy and have another baby some day. I knew it was going to happen.<br />
<br />
Two years later, I found myself sitting in my doctor's office, discussing fertility issues. I assumed I would have no trouble getting pregnant with our last child, but I was wrong. In August of last year, I was again diagnosed with ovarian cysts (and told I had many of the symptoms of PCOS). My left ovary is twice the size of my right ovary due to the cysts, and my doctor felt this condition was affecting my fertility. After two months of daily ovulation tests and not one positive test, I decided to take Progesterone for 10 days in order to regulate my body's hormones. My doctor explained that the Progesterone would essentially help my body "start over" and perhaps trigger ovulation. If the Progesterone didn't work, the doctor then recommended doing a round of Clomid.<br />
<br />
On February 13th, day ten of taking the medication, I had an appointment to have my teeth cleaned. For some reason, the hygienist took my blood pressure before I had an x-ray of my mouth done and was alarmed by the results. My blood pressure was so low that she called another nurse over to retest me. Again, my blood pressure was 85/60. She asked if I had a history of low blood pressure, and I explained that while it was always low, it was only <i>that</i> low when I was pregnant. I then laughingly joked that being pregnant wasn't possible.<br />
<br />
However, the seed of "maybe" had been planted in my mind.<br />
<br />
Nathan was working from home, the children were in bed, and I decided I would take a pregnancy test. I was so sure the test was going to be negative that I didn't even tell Nathan what I was doing. Two minutes later, I stood staring at the positive test with a ridiculous grin on my face. I couldn't stop smiling! I kept thinking, "HOW!?" and laughing at the irony that I was already pregnant when I met with the doctor about my fertility problems.<br />
<br />
Nathan was helping a student with accounting as I walked up to him and showed him the test. His jaw dropped and he said the same thing I was thinking, "WHAT!? How!?" I guess those ovulation tests were wrong! My doctor later said that my ovulation window could have been so small that a test would have missed it. Whatever the case, we feel incredibly blessed. I'm not sure how far along I am, but we are guessing this baby will be born in October or November.<br />
<br />
Hooray for miracles! Hooray for another little one!<br />
<br />
The baby is the wonderful news. The bad news is the fact that I'm already incredibly sick. Things were going fine until earlier this week. I gained a few pounds and a small bump incredibly fast. Only a week after finding out I was pregnant, I definitely looked like I was going to have a baby. I was feeling so fabulous that I thought something might be wrong. And then, the morning sickness/all day sickness/hyperemesis began.<br />
<br />
This is the difference 10 days can make. February 21st and then today!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEili6O1s_JAbROUHvii_j-YSsXFlDZcl3VMfcfAn930NJ1NNEVgoKvFJ0nyHqE33CmxtF5_I3Gh_NWmGIKXAVrFDOorAmGW7SeCXYQ3cKIrioT8Tn65dg8cTuMVHwYYBA18tWNeku_FahE/s1600/IMG_8461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEili6O1s_JAbROUHvii_j-YSsXFlDZcl3VMfcfAn930NJ1NNEVgoKvFJ0nyHqE33CmxtF5_I3Gh_NWmGIKXAVrFDOorAmGW7SeCXYQ3cKIrioT8Tn65dg8cTuMVHwYYBA18tWNeku_FahE/s640/IMG_8461.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNR4VeI67xXfG_gAIDdSk7psTrvib5BEPg6Xhz3BuC1pMRLn4yjZD9KJcU_EyPkDCyRoppA8S1rxX2hHav0Unbga8zM9glbZaiV-8ZrBNOGDfDyVWe0nlj08nDem8c7_vY3Bab4Ns8KXc/s1600/IMG_8642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNR4VeI67xXfG_gAIDdSk7psTrvib5BEPg6Xhz3BuC1pMRLn4yjZD9KJcU_EyPkDCyRoppA8S1rxX2hHav0Unbga8zM9glbZaiV-8ZrBNOGDfDyVWe0nlj08nDem8c7_vY3Bab4Ns8KXc/s640/IMG_8642.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
I am praying that I begin to feel better soon. Mothering two toddlers and a four year old is extremely difficult when I can't even take care of myself. It's only been four days of nonstop vomiting, but I don't know how much more I can handle until I'm going to the hospital for fluids.<br />
<br />
My friend Marie sent me some essential oils and sea bands to help battle the nausea. Something has to help this time, right?!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkAPYzJGba0ZoOe79l0JkoCZZgfgkW1_yYhAECD1DP5jSdvQX2qHymkA-Ecc8L25X3Xsa152JdPx6hz9MDEmWomUcQ_xfMzUJTSNSpDWPXokeramrJ0w12dPXtfUZxhcHTuoc-xzUdYQE/s1600/IMG_8632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkAPYzJGba0ZoOe79l0JkoCZZgfgkW1_yYhAECD1DP5jSdvQX2qHymkA-Ecc8L25X3Xsa152JdPx6hz9MDEmWomUcQ_xfMzUJTSNSpDWPXokeramrJ0w12dPXtfUZxhcHTuoc-xzUdYQE/s640/IMG_8632.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-74718475603786908122014-03-01T12:50:00.000-08:002014-11-09T12:53:44.959-08:00To the Park We GoGoing to the park every day has become a crucial part of our daily routine. Once Nathan leaves for his afternoon classes, the children immediately start asking to go outside and "walk." Ezra and Elliott still aren't talking very much, but they continue to go over their letters repeatedly every day. I think a huge reason why they love the park so much is the fact that we practice our letters there on the giant letter caterpillar. We've also started practicing our colors and shapes while there and the boys might have a new obsession (or another one, at least). <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhytudXUv5owxgMu15R8CqGhE-wA3CeXgOEJ-QRG3XUPBugtVUXxb3jYk4uaOkUIoz0XjH2k2d7G4EMQnzOdUpcYA1pXeRUQehp_QiGuvtif05ckc4R7RgIqiuShwfZgIoxnyihBn9BWoQ/s1600/DSC_1023-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhytudXUv5owxgMu15R8CqGhE-wA3CeXgOEJ-QRG3XUPBugtVUXxb3jYk4uaOkUIoz0XjH2k2d7G4EMQnzOdUpcYA1pXeRUQehp_QiGuvtif05ckc4R7RgIqiuShwfZgIoxnyihBn9BWoQ/s1600/DSC_1023-001.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4DOqUGgCY50HQNuiuXE3tOEKRkQr0E4GxMcJ5oVPvtLewZ2WjV-0groMe_11IZ3jbsEd1Xlplg7JLvIXaSxNDU3zoAN6SS0UhaAILn7Jb74r3arGpGNsJ29wchzEMR9RsOwEoCS5btw/s1600/DSC_1024-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4DOqUGgCY50HQNuiuXE3tOEKRkQr0E4GxMcJ5oVPvtLewZ2WjV-0groMe_11IZ3jbsEd1Xlplg7JLvIXaSxNDU3zoAN6SS0UhaAILn7Jb74r3arGpGNsJ29wchzEMR9RsOwEoCS5btw/s1600/DSC_1024-001.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcW2vPZoTqJPVzD3wPOtEK2xI4ZkHQEr9AaRA9QqJ9w_b9Ig7TUNU3C8rnDRolHRSre7dLziX14MIxYgkDA20CSBOKYH4WNtnPprbRrSTWCyEpUmxg4ydjT2qQRySjTNvTIpzOfPFDO8M/s1600/DSC_1028-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcW2vPZoTqJPVzD3wPOtEK2xI4ZkHQEr9AaRA9QqJ9w_b9Ig7TUNU3C8rnDRolHRSre7dLziX14MIxYgkDA20CSBOKYH4WNtnPprbRrSTWCyEpUmxg4ydjT2qQRySjTNvTIpzOfPFDO8M/s1600/DSC_1028-001.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcW_tEp6BU2Pov28azMLsq9hJk7JB8ZCP5d2ZIWuEWomNOOzJz3L4MZkwXXvHVseUPc1EUS8jZa3lhDEQJZbX3KRFgw_W5rynwQj9pvhf6XpTtqHDDYjTznWxbGdkLoLSupyOOLn2xse0/s1600/DSC_1031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcW_tEp6BU2Pov28azMLsq9hJk7JB8ZCP5d2ZIWuEWomNOOzJz3L4MZkwXXvHVseUPc1EUS8jZa3lhDEQJZbX3KRFgw_W5rynwQj9pvhf6XpTtqHDDYjTznWxbGdkLoLSupyOOLn2xse0/s1600/DSC_1031.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUiEzhsPsRqAHJOw1dBtCT98K0-I6efcQ1njhHaSGjnJ-rOeT8FBAfrzKHYXjekxF-umX39rA-2wm9RWtF40LrGbgs-xQ_FcLTit5eTcc4Kj220uQ8Ix9D0EC-4G6fxu8dkfy39602GHM/s1600/DSC_1034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUiEzhsPsRqAHJOw1dBtCT98K0-I6efcQ1njhHaSGjnJ-rOeT8FBAfrzKHYXjekxF-umX39rA-2wm9RWtF40LrGbgs-xQ_FcLTit5eTcc4Kj220uQ8Ix9D0EC-4G6fxu8dkfy39602GHM/s1600/DSC_1034.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-43899158745970147982014-02-28T15:18:00.000-08:002014-11-09T15:19:28.373-08:00When Mom Is SickI haven't felt the greatest this week, and today, I finally gave in to the sickness for a couple of hours and attempted to lay down on the couch while the children watched a movie. Ezra and Elliott refused to leave me alone, though, and how could I say no to two cute boys who wanted to cuddle their mom? I didn't get to relax very much, but I sure did feel loved.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqzvHlIKBuuzruPi6hjOY86SEOtpwt5faOt62XGa2E6HE4-_4Isv994uH1AVgnool34ZPZvRmghbcBSclB2_ycNyRE0Uh019Rf7PXuY8pgj1wHADJmN9VnsI__LzhH03pwOv7IrMft2wg/s1600/IMG_8627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqzvHlIKBuuzruPi6hjOY86SEOtpwt5faOt62XGa2E6HE4-_4Isv994uH1AVgnool34ZPZvRmghbcBSclB2_ycNyRE0Uh019Rf7PXuY8pgj1wHADJmN9VnsI__LzhH03pwOv7IrMft2wg/s1600/IMG_8627.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-37271988696807058342014-02-27T12:27:00.000-08:002014-11-09T15:14:55.357-08:00Eliza UpdateEliza is my little helper. She has been helping since the twins were babies, and she continues to help me with small chores on a daily basis. She happily runs to get me diapers and wipes, plays with Ezra and Elliott and keeps them happy while I clean or cook dinner, and helps me pick up toys at the end of every day. She loves one on one attention, which can sometimes be tricky with two younger siblings. I'm trying to make sure she gets the individual time she so desperately wants each day. We usually end up playing a game, coloring a picture, or simply reading a book together before she falls asleep. Nathan and I both know it's incredibly important to her.<br />
<br />
Some of her favorite things from the last few days include: Playing with Ruby and baby Jane,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEML2G_5pFotXnzoWiiR1u0JxJ0JZGDoGp-kt4dIS_2qqTXlSxabbcNJT6auWbH3Suif184AKY99qdVWT3cMizGotUlwftk9vcELToxPEMz16uZdjGCwFmqMj_YHxnGfPwi8hbjn2Erk/s1600/IMG_8540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEML2G_5pFotXnzoWiiR1u0JxJ0JZGDoGp-kt4dIS_2qqTXlSxabbcNJT6auWbH3Suif184AKY99qdVWT3cMizGotUlwftk9vcELToxPEMz16uZdjGCwFmqMj_YHxnGfPwi8hbjn2Erk/s1600/IMG_8540.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
coloring outside with friends,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsF2nIEjIvIotn8wL9Zd7sxFA26qtbElnvzID5RCdwmgHFSznYm3CKmcJ4kKXVdftc17_kaxVrjvXQX1gn2_ZscfhlxuJ3UkKzJgtttSDYPDRu_IjgOd0DSsoh8aXbzFGgh-2NGPXgNHM/s1600/IMG_8542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsF2nIEjIvIotn8wL9Zd7sxFA26qtbElnvzID5RCdwmgHFSznYm3CKmcJ4kKXVdftc17_kaxVrjvXQX1gn2_ZscfhlxuJ3UkKzJgtttSDYPDRu_IjgOd0DSsoh8aXbzFGgh-2NGPXgNHM/s1600/IMG_8542.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9SLp3dWyeC62jxoTv6hczSIYL72be0F12c-veJkYaE-KFsfRB4-NUyM3YkReQw7CfbVJMh2gxDpvMaPnUHgrkbjQfEzAJG2YB-DS-rzwqGty8DGQv0pnWRm17YakwPhOYW1LSwM1yFY/s1600/IMG_8545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9SLp3dWyeC62jxoTv6hczSIYL72be0F12c-veJkYaE-KFsfRB4-NUyM3YkReQw7CfbVJMh2gxDpvMaPnUHgrkbjQfEzAJG2YB-DS-rzwqGty8DGQv0pnWRm17YakwPhOYW1LSwM1yFY/s1600/IMG_8545.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
swim classes, </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_F7bHSXRbxcV9ZuadieSvqctwz9KHPXbEGq-r5sWkBVVCOBG5srf0Sz38KYUZmf8x0lAfIAcEX-33VmGbfEy4q21O907HzIRF-ND9G5WA56uSeoCjkdSBIjBWcvo1uMpZkTZ9QQdUag/s1600/IMG_8570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_F7bHSXRbxcV9ZuadieSvqctwz9KHPXbEGq-r5sWkBVVCOBG5srf0Sz38KYUZmf8x0lAfIAcEX-33VmGbfEy4q21O907HzIRF-ND9G5WA56uSeoCjkdSBIjBWcvo1uMpZkTZ9QQdUag/s1600/IMG_8570.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
and falling asleep with all of her books.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYOIRS9v5BhPnRBhbgozSaWD3zzfTCpX4JjUZMWkOaJF4PKiM6Z9iAou9XJ06g414_AM2XRqVPgSNfqwJygG8h66CFmwLEs8cSCcDk2TTurZmo-OiiwSnpIqaiiGGly7oTNjAwLp_lelc/s1600/IMG_8575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYOIRS9v5BhPnRBhbgozSaWD3zzfTCpX4JjUZMWkOaJF4PKiM6Z9iAou9XJ06g414_AM2XRqVPgSNfqwJygG8h66CFmwLEs8cSCcDk2TTurZmo-OiiwSnpIqaiiGGly7oTNjAwLp_lelc/s1600/IMG_8575.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
She's also still taking dance classes and is currently excited about her next recital in May. She keeps talking about it, even though it is months away! I love her enthusiasm about everything and her determination to enjoy each day to the fullest. This girl is happiest when she is constantly busy, so she definitely keeps me moving :)</div>
Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-63877435441958455582014-02-25T10:51:00.000-08:002014-11-09T11:08:31.693-08:00Nap Time is OverSince we transitioned the boys from cribs to toddler beds, there have been no naps in our household. I'm going a little crazy over here. Those two hours were precious and allowed me to get basic chores done and sometimes just sit without feeling like I am being pulled in a million different directions. It was also the one time of the day that I feel like I can interact with Eliza on an individual level and give her the direct attention she needs.<br />
<br />
I've tried and tried to get them to stay in their room, but they cannot be contained. They scream, run around, pull their drawers out of the dresser, and jump on each other constantly. So yes, nap time is not going to happen. Nathan and I have separated the cribs and plan on getting real toddler beds that might get the boys excited about sleeping. I'm crossing my fingers that we can find a solution that works!<br />
<br />
The night time routine has also changed. The boys can't sleep with their beds pushed together because they are just too crazy, but they really want to sleep together. Sadly, there isn't enough room for two boys on one toddler bed. The beds are separate again, and I know I am going to miss the pictures like this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlf1wj2ptjcj18gpjIJ3YWsp2q1bAaaillPH4e3FLR5qidSuJFceGIUw5rwILaTh5qolfFb_6HzSbWWIFmrc9UC11srKe_9C689UH3TKLlkKOSdku8QgEEOCsU8_tWytBZxxSyeYZBBek/s1600/IMG_8560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlf1wj2ptjcj18gpjIJ3YWsp2q1bAaaillPH4e3FLR5qidSuJFceGIUw5rwILaTh5qolfFb_6HzSbWWIFmrc9UC11srKe_9C689UH3TKLlkKOSdku8QgEEOCsU8_tWytBZxxSyeYZBBek/s1600/IMG_8560.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Nathan and I keep telling each other that it will get better. Ezra and Elliott use to run to their cribs at night and essentially put themselves to bed. They slept through the night, they never cried, and they enjoyed their naptime. Now that they have tasted the freedom of being out of their beds, I know our lives are going to be very different. Maybe they'll start napping again? Maybe bedtime won't be so crazy?<br />
<br />
I can hope!Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-65019999049550281002014-02-24T21:17:00.000-08:002014-09-28T21:17:59.681-07:00A Perfect DaySome days, I am out playing with the kids and suddenly realize that Utah is beautiful and that we are lucky to live here. Today was definitely one of those days. The kids were kicking a ball in wide open field, the sun was shining, and the mountains looked beautiful. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1dBkqBEgcuhXrBxJxIg8JnPz5X2mgqUL_BAjvqPzwXCskTQN0EmgqHO0U3qVHZg7AQkzzDV9gg8c4U-WrAtYkIchMMRBkRVcg1nQ2kn-RCn8KgfHwpOVCgYhwkJwZi4AuGlPJZi3cH0/s1600/IMG_8533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1dBkqBEgcuhXrBxJxIg8JnPz5X2mgqUL_BAjvqPzwXCskTQN0EmgqHO0U3qVHZg7AQkzzDV9gg8c4U-WrAtYkIchMMRBkRVcg1nQ2kn-RCn8KgfHwpOVCgYhwkJwZi4AuGlPJZi3cH0/s1600/IMG_8533.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
I miss South Carolina often, but I really do love living here. </div>
Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-68618621668062017382014-02-24T17:52:00.000-08:002014-09-28T17:53:23.981-07:00One Enormous CribWhen we pushed the two converted toddler beds together, we ended up with one giant crib. Ezra and Elliott have loved it the past couple of nights, but I am not sure it is going to work.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRxoThj3qaS3qprNgQImS6Wzi37Dq8vRClKeh7Ve_ple0VeUE7TH-WRN_jajky0t1vokSk7xABdKt4R2H86BVYZ-ZU-TYqmKADWPUQYIcIqMPtAWZmwKXRfJdkMOgvMlAc85EXlHvJlxw/s1600/IMG_8509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRxoThj3qaS3qprNgQImS6Wzi37Dq8vRClKeh7Ve_ple0VeUE7TH-WRN_jajky0t1vokSk7xABdKt4R2H86BVYZ-ZU-TYqmKADWPUQYIcIqMPtAWZmwKXRfJdkMOgvMlAc85EXlHvJlxw/s1600/IMG_8509.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXqZsYg_-fnO1KhY_omHU-PVM_vw_Zxv8XqgMWCTv3uWPZQ9lSxvD52Q6Zk1XQjL9b3rxgxNwd2wGl3bqA2r42zY5ww-qQVQ25rxdVLZcmTqF_BRFv46FW0baKevl-dNAkEkBn-tSaz8M/s1600/IMG_8512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXqZsYg_-fnO1KhY_omHU-PVM_vw_Zxv8XqgMWCTv3uWPZQ9lSxvD52Q6Zk1XQjL9b3rxgxNwd2wGl3bqA2r42zY5ww-qQVQ25rxdVLZcmTqF_BRFv46FW0baKevl-dNAkEkBn-tSaz8M/s1600/IMG_8512.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
They are staying up later, giggling one moment and then screaming the next, and refusing to take naps. Nathan and I have had to go into their room and separate them countless times because one of the boys has tackled the other or has stolen a blanket. I think it's adorable that they want to sleep beside one another, but logistically speaking, it isn't working.<br />
<br />
We'll give it a few more days before we give up the idea entirely, but, in the meantime, I really miss naps. I wonder if they will ever nap again!Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-20713936645647736662014-02-23T17:41:00.000-08:002014-09-28T17:42:01.302-07:00Sunday Favorites<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I love these two people (and these pictures) so much that I can hardly stand it!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbR1y_2dNk_tDdQ0NPkDMpsgC9LR8gmEnuNv4h5y-XhSrDUPvVcX0-Pw-j9p0OTZMYzCYmCpDz0e_vKh9gjoWPs6BSWX595eSWQCdsO6tZDjEOOvhlCXClmkkjLPJEfqK3TydRc1q-zQc/s1600/IMG_8499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbR1y_2dNk_tDdQ0NPkDMpsgC9LR8gmEnuNv4h5y-XhSrDUPvVcX0-Pw-j9p0OTZMYzCYmCpDz0e_vKh9gjoWPs6BSWX595eSWQCdsO6tZDjEOOvhlCXClmkkjLPJEfqK3TydRc1q-zQc/s1600/IMG_8499.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wIaKQ20bvPLuXIX1qLfEXquMDeGTIOISB-k9lEHK28PJdwSGtX0H8BKn1vk54EsIgMc0wKB-cQ8gUPKidA8606NA_Ja4G5JPwKe_ATFCCJBAt0GA1sTa2itEC0S87w2FuApwuJMsXiY/s1600/IMG_8498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wIaKQ20bvPLuXIX1qLfEXquMDeGTIOISB-k9lEHK28PJdwSGtX0H8BKn1vk54EsIgMc0wKB-cQ8gUPKidA8606NA_Ja4G5JPwKe_ATFCCJBAt0GA1sTa2itEC0S87w2FuApwuJMsXiY/s1600/IMG_8498.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-31116234298160930342014-02-21T17:39:00.000-08:002014-09-28T17:39:27.967-07:00Cosleeping WoesFor the past few night, Ezra and Elliott have snuggled together on the same bed. Last night, snuggling apparently didn't go too well.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjHT8PSXPyC-yJ6rGUgvEldJFUV21B-y00CwtY5wi3sqDESZuZVJjakW8mSlHN064GUsqizaxkj_Dldb8fCXqiZVcwuHgKFPaMqCjLqF9ZC0LtxxhM9VDXfq5AcC_snFxaPL50sDFzp4/s1600/IMG_8447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjHT8PSXPyC-yJ6rGUgvEldJFUV21B-y00CwtY5wi3sqDESZuZVJjakW8mSlHN064GUsqizaxkj_Dldb8fCXqiZVcwuHgKFPaMqCjLqF9ZC0LtxxhM9VDXfq5AcC_snFxaPL50sDFzp4/s1600/IMG_8447.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
Sleeping on the carpet probably wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it sure did give Elliott some crazy carpet-hair in the morning!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHf2shnQ_t_DRxWscxD_X2yJZYjtb5feRDPJ3R6gxzDLZE7aABeItgxfDzZHMxKOg5AVR5ezuS81goISj8OHYBG4g_hX_e1zjfk8PVFlHDihzkx2YA14wNycrM9lqgAJd_vRlrgZEfag/s1600/IMG_8453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHf2shnQ_t_DRxWscxD_X2yJZYjtb5feRDPJ3R6gxzDLZE7aABeItgxfDzZHMxKOg5AVR5ezuS81goISj8OHYBG4g_hX_e1zjfk8PVFlHDihzkx2YA14wNycrM9lqgAJd_vRlrgZEfag/s1600/IMG_8453.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
Nathan has decided that we should maybe push the two beds together and create a giant bed for the babies to share. We'll see how this idea goes.Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-75203539486184015652014-02-20T17:27:00.000-08:002014-09-28T17:27:44.623-07:00Field Trip to Krispy KremeI've been trying to do better lately about taking the children out to do fun things during the day. Usually, I feel too overwhelmed by the craziness of having two active two-year-olds to go many places besides the library or the park. Even then, things can be tricky! This morning, Eliza mentioned she would like a doughnut, so I decided to be brave and get out of the house.<br />
<br />
Ezra, Eliza, and Elliott were great at Krispy Kreme! They loved watching the process of the doughnuts being cooked and then covered in glaze. They stood looking through this window for a good ten minutes until I finally coaxed them into sitting down with some tasty treats.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdD3_J3vj5obVS8JXADlh87QH846IBXIdGJhGGLJ1tdfzBU9kBGD7PvdM23fSrRBFf_Ey_08T19vl0HDtoPeHgSVVCjc4f5XkI4WUvcT8hj-R108T8pi2yFh_fu86GMc3PZm12vjLcP8/s1600/IMG_8400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdD3_J3vj5obVS8JXADlh87QH846IBXIdGJhGGLJ1tdfzBU9kBGD7PvdM23fSrRBFf_Ey_08T19vl0HDtoPeHgSVVCjc4f5XkI4WUvcT8hj-R108T8pi2yFh_fu86GMc3PZm12vjLcP8/s1600/IMG_8400.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6MEtCXJwNocI3fdVJavuto8qTIcs4WouutSeDY3xu6WFSpW_CgxhFleHYys8c6DGEPVLsajPSrcQ_R555wHZmNjQVYrwUT6UXpOA2x9wpiW85dbhUal-HGpNDjDlVZAb2kleJsQ_JpX8/s1600/IMG_8402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6MEtCXJwNocI3fdVJavuto8qTIcs4WouutSeDY3xu6WFSpW_CgxhFleHYys8c6DGEPVLsajPSrcQ_R555wHZmNjQVYrwUT6UXpOA2x9wpiW85dbhUal-HGpNDjDlVZAb2kleJsQ_JpX8/s1600/IMG_8402.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3oIjjps7ShiMyQpnI2ntz4noh7kDAheQf72Xt9Jj-SsfzJI51MGRuo1lVNewIGZIUbkf0r0QV2dm7tEvsPM7AuPVwG6_nPm5vJ1X6dbakhiGwsaCpbdJq_i-eGJaUsOJ2Yk5ba948YaA/s1600/IMG_8404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3oIjjps7ShiMyQpnI2ntz4noh7kDAheQf72Xt9Jj-SsfzJI51MGRuo1lVNewIGZIUbkf0r0QV2dm7tEvsPM7AuPVwG6_nPm5vJ1X6dbakhiGwsaCpbdJq_i-eGJaUsOJ2Yk5ba948YaA/s1600/IMG_8404.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicV9XDk6tnL7poIkGMFBZ6G8y4PB3bCy9bpOIPJCUkPoLqxUtdJsiMn5wQYJD3oF_OfpWo7jE62NfnP7cRMnfl8zlBHIuGcqIj_onLUKzGR7rMEgkCSRe1HObemHr3oRED1lykdmm8rdU/s1600/IMG_8407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicV9XDk6tnL7poIkGMFBZ6G8y4PB3bCy9bpOIPJCUkPoLqxUtdJsiMn5wQYJD3oF_OfpWo7jE62NfnP7cRMnfl8zlBHIuGcqIj_onLUKzGR7rMEgkCSRe1HObemHr3oRED1lykdmm8rdU/s1600/IMG_8407.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/HCBf8_juEy0" width="640"></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Things went so well at Krispy Kreme that I decided to take the kids to Old Navy afterwards. However, I learned that going there might have been pushing things a little because Old Navy definitely isn't as fun and exciting as Krispy Kreme. Let's just say that I'm grateful for the lady who gave us balloons....and that I will probably stick to going shopping at clothing stores alone.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnotklAcFqTo2xj_QNYkGtTvJuQlobydXCibRObcBsehOkO_EOOSsbgjTzWP11_VhIpXDCRvNT4dzA84fzAi2jodA_I2rZvV4x6tDZ8tcIOFhjK5PQxw_fK-g1VaH5KcH-3EohOMun4cY/s1600/IMG_8418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnotklAcFqTo2xj_QNYkGtTvJuQlobydXCibRObcBsehOkO_EOOSsbgjTzWP11_VhIpXDCRvNT4dzA84fzAi2jodA_I2rZvV4x6tDZ8tcIOFhjK5PQxw_fK-g1VaH5KcH-3EohOMun4cY/s1600/IMG_8418.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTb8I74rmFi_8XMC6mOcXqRvWiSNlApIwuEICHTB8H0a9hmJfsSc2-doN8-6EKf-0OIiqOAE32La0RxlV5GN3RT67Cp8jjF2l6KG-FvasIF5Kno3PVJB0ivCmMbik20hfriBxvPQ50b4/s1600/IMG_8420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTb8I74rmFi_8XMC6mOcXqRvWiSNlApIwuEICHTB8H0a9hmJfsSc2-doN8-6EKf-0OIiqOAE32La0RxlV5GN3RT67Cp8jjF2l6KG-FvasIF5Kno3PVJB0ivCmMbik20hfriBxvPQ50b4/s1600/IMG_8420.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-27820834271656928722014-02-19T22:14:00.000-08:002014-09-27T19:30:06.166-07:00Crib TransitionIt finally happened: Nathan converted the boys' cribs into toddler beds. I don't know if I am ready for this change, but they certainly can escape from the cribs and that makes me nervous. I know this is the safe option and that it's time for them to transition from a crib to a bed, but I am so worry they will never sleep again. And if they don't sleep, Nathan and I don't sleep!<br />
<br />
We had to put them back in bed several times tonight, but eventually, things were quiet in their room. When I went in to check on them, I found them like this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53cHUbmNgkvqV2OWHhwQ7w6LQWeUqmqhvvgDosM4-5p09sEENxlAdORvkkxUdqbnZ4CUTl9jbqFMFYbDHjr52Xs499b2sPgOVge0uD-nbJp0RlYVujw-C9PWkzlQLY4WvARh-OhOZa_Q/s1600/IMG_8397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53cHUbmNgkvqV2OWHhwQ7w6LQWeUqmqhvvgDosM4-5p09sEENxlAdORvkkxUdqbnZ4CUTl9jbqFMFYbDHjr52Xs499b2sPgOVge0uD-nbJp0RlYVujw-C9PWkzlQLY4WvARh-OhOZa_Q/s1600/IMG_8397.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-yB7Wzf1yuaiisnwBe14RMtFgXoXnxfvpBi-jYz9gkxQkBki5yopmXG1KlvZXQvxjYww2Ib9wlNPo5gXn7cehdckDwOcwoFvmDiLtQcaqB9j9nMt9Y_nVM2-91Ced-8DzJToBgsUAG8o/s1600/IMG_8399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-yB7Wzf1yuaiisnwBe14RMtFgXoXnxfvpBi-jYz9gkxQkBki5yopmXG1KlvZXQvxjYww2Ib9wlNPo5gXn7cehdckDwOcwoFvmDiLtQcaqB9j9nMt9Y_nVM2-91Ced-8DzJToBgsUAG8o/s1600/IMG_8399.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
On their first day of crib independence, they decided to sleep together. They might fight during the day, but these boys definitely love each other.Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-30799513686450224822014-02-19T19:21:00.000-08:002014-09-27T19:22:38.734-07:00I'll Love You ForeverHey Eliza, please never ask me to read this as a bedtime story ever again. You know I can never finish it because I am always crying too much.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0b7xWjNis6p36a5eTsv8a-oiDLKEFouZhAnl1Dd6UG5WFHJ4X7HvGPo-bVBRpLwTOBlxg5F-WEsGwqidxfB7ihs0f2Gqn4l2p3UM8fHKRaJ7-M_6DivQWGhWJuEdcg471YuGAuN0AFM/s1600/IMG_8394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0b7xWjNis6p36a5eTsv8a-oiDLKEFouZhAnl1Dd6UG5WFHJ4X7HvGPo-bVBRpLwTOBlxg5F-WEsGwqidxfB7ihs0f2Gqn4l2p3UM8fHKRaJ7-M_6DivQWGhWJuEdcg471YuGAuN0AFM/s1600/IMG_8394.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
(Also, never read the back story surrounding this book. It's TOO sad.)Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-48255487557856866332014-02-18T19:14:00.000-08:002014-09-27T19:15:55.763-07:00Letter ObsessionFor the past few months, the children and I have walked to the local elementary school and enjoyed the nice playground there in the afternoons. Each time that we go, we walk past a Very Hungry Caterpillar with all of the letters of the alphabet displayed. Ezra and Elliott are obsessed with these letters and insist on stopping every time and reviewing each letter.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxzLV28N4F0cBme-y9Fg_WLH3YMGFGvWywgkhiYhgqxMYUj4iGXm2lydn-Yn0Gd6NekQKR915eBZwXt3XAxJhdRH3E4vFRb8ADKRKMUV6424MXDOn4WsjGQvxcS2z0TQLW_SmxXHpTwI/s1600/IMG_8383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxzLV28N4F0cBme-y9Fg_WLH3YMGFGvWywgkhiYhgqxMYUj4iGXm2lydn-Yn0Gd6NekQKR915eBZwXt3XAxJhdRH3E4vFRb8ADKRKMUV6424MXDOn4WsjGQvxcS2z0TQLW_SmxXHpTwI/s1600/IMG_8383.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
They are pretty clever little dudes!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/4fASeNko7nU" width="853"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-54119156388312455432014-02-15T18:50:00.000-08:002014-09-27T18:51:08.344-07:00Galentine's DayThis morning, Kimberly hosted the second annual Galentine's Day celebration at Guru's. Galentine's Day is essentially a day to celebrate our friendship and the love we have for one another. Last year, Kimberly spoiled all of us with thoughtful gifts. This year was no exception!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7f9YGxRLM_ouezS1AZgdZf9rz2l0iSGedNVvdLiTSgxntr2MiQal2DUDkXQoE3Pr70XedsJtNZPOTgjscSoyB7VPMi-FjLqsGeHw5_uUwupN2jDAEC5245WFT3N9axuyKBCbKh-wQ3kA/s1600/IMG_8356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7f9YGxRLM_ouezS1AZgdZf9rz2l0iSGedNVvdLiTSgxntr2MiQal2DUDkXQoE3Pr70XedsJtNZPOTgjscSoyB7VPMi-FjLqsGeHw5_uUwupN2jDAEC5245WFT3N9axuyKBCbKh-wQ3kA/s1600/IMG_8356.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
Kimberly is such an incredibly thoughtful friend. She painstakingly cross-stitched an individualized saying for each lady at the party. She introduced me to the movie <i>Pitch Perfect</i>, so she knew I thought the following line from the movie was hysterical:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUtzqnV25N-RMLFO9Uc0RN3loszNv9oYk9zmK1D7tybhjBQFjUae2mN4Xs68Vmb0ItJCK-ArKfxO6winDxvmRsS0bI4RD9J_SpJ_-_2vgLFHKi8isqjiCwORNEHUdve9b39FAnll3jQM/s1600/IMG_8353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUtzqnV25N-RMLFO9Uc0RN3loszNv9oYk9zmK1D7tybhjBQFjUae2mN4Xs68Vmb0ItJCK-ArKfxO6winDxvmRsS0bI4RD9J_SpJ_-_2vgLFHKi8isqjiCwORNEHUdve9b39FAnll3jQM/s1600/IMG_8353.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
She also commissioned a piece of artwork to be made for each of us, gave everyone a beautiful mint colored watch, and made chocolate covered strawberries for everyone.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvyqu7wqzdiygK2P57t9Hdvavk4XFb85pIhoVfhhEtTCW1Yha6gdjivrBRouZ2AuMYGSpj6oEQFENUC48UKd8hmpm7EaGHUmxxZGLiSmCN5otTK0ZM_g3v1-qVtQxjh5ESzveOP5Hmlqg/s1600/IMG_8354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvyqu7wqzdiygK2P57t9Hdvavk4XFb85pIhoVfhhEtTCW1Yha6gdjivrBRouZ2AuMYGSpj6oEQFENUC48UKd8hmpm7EaGHUmxxZGLiSmCN5otTK0ZM_g3v1-qVtQxjh5ESzveOP5Hmlqg/s1600/IMG_8354.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
Galentine's Day was just another reminder that I have been blessed with amazing friends. I couldn't have asked for more thoughtful gifts than the ones I received. I certainly felt loved!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrc5IjTLnADyNlE5kdbQ8q-Mimrc84WiUM7Ug02EOxXlK4EZPqFLYX7_QZIrkRRGXJNYfrDJFBmAo7l2gw_B8ioJ4ya9hGgAer23SBhL7eE9uEDt_70EJUQBY8BU2TDJpGYbGl8yyQrpw/s1600/IMG_8350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrc5IjTLnADyNlE5kdbQ8q-Mimrc84WiUM7Ug02EOxXlK4EZPqFLYX7_QZIrkRRGXJNYfrDJFBmAo7l2gw_B8ioJ4ya9hGgAer23SBhL7eE9uEDt_70EJUQBY8BU2TDJpGYbGl8yyQrpw/s1600/IMG_8350.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-26414439371202019802014-02-14T18:36:00.000-08:002014-09-27T18:36:46.177-07:00Valentine's DayWe had our last Valentine's Day party this morning with Landon, Lucy, and Ruby. The kids decorated foam cards for their dads, which was pretty exciting for them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIeanCPIogqtGtSNY2C0Kikar7Tu29rQNzj6mjLNmxzhc6ysZroMlr9sB8AKEU8f28AGexe9nyZbCf3G_fQjXIV-F0mUfz7lCJcavIjIRa7tTPjCQRiSLN9gyToKTyoMeTL6xgRaTkTh4/s1600/DSC_0967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIeanCPIogqtGtSNY2C0Kikar7Tu29rQNzj6mjLNmxzhc6ysZroMlr9sB8AKEU8f28AGexe9nyZbCf3G_fQjXIV-F0mUfz7lCJcavIjIRa7tTPjCQRiSLN9gyToKTyoMeTL6xgRaTkTh4/s1600/DSC_0967.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKpEaLxSh2z6d3vVKfLzz0S7phPh73BRrFY07zVIYES7Db4o24AHsUv9typJSXGxoUIK-_klmzHk6rd3jlxhhkL5lzWdm2oUSa555iC9YtvGbNAqxipRgZcWYsu6dsSxjmeRQaHtIQHU/s1600/DSC_0969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKpEaLxSh2z6d3vVKfLzz0S7phPh73BRrFY07zVIYES7Db4o24AHsUv9typJSXGxoUIK-_klmzHk6rd3jlxhhkL5lzWdm2oUSa555iC9YtvGbNAqxipRgZcWYsu6dsSxjmeRQaHtIQHU/s1600/DSC_0969.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJzssGgqgnLnw0Y6V6y3WOuA6yMe1DuAwKBbNtw61IgwSlOI2H_0a5LWmuY_nu9CSGYvLpyokLKa0l5QKTTRxm0OeCmj3U78MmeWU-E_vHhMRJY4pjpPPlNnPxS569_K1EQKGkcz-4os/s1600/DSC_0972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJzssGgqgnLnw0Y6V6y3WOuA6yMe1DuAwKBbNtw61IgwSlOI2H_0a5LWmuY_nu9CSGYvLpyokLKa0l5QKTTRxm0OeCmj3U78MmeWU-E_vHhMRJY4pjpPPlNnPxS569_K1EQKGkcz-4os/s1600/DSC_0972.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKzZ90izfYRmVk4OdfmMa3lXnklaGGeCiAhkHeazYrLgEsBSD7xxj-OjVWFj5pRhPed0RWT6jf5Uo0d1mnyiRfhdJXQLXqBIT5EcEdxsl3BWL1z8McVs3V6odiOBCeJK2Ax27hIWRX0w/s1600/DSC_0976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKzZ90izfYRmVk4OdfmMa3lXnklaGGeCiAhkHeazYrLgEsBSD7xxj-OjVWFj5pRhPed0RWT6jf5Uo0d1mnyiRfhdJXQLXqBIT5EcEdxsl3BWL1z8McVs3V6odiOBCeJK2Ax27hIWRX0w/s1600/DSC_0976.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhusX8GqUw6Ht1aduVxtG7-56enPqxj0LdPtYcjiSqHcZMqrA3TCSVZcey2Tdr2xDegp2haLgz5TinNo_WP1F-Jt4KPle27sFxY8HcvUuU8FYoDB4VYS455UjUFut9P96sNS9jq4CtWSU8/s1600/DSC_0980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhusX8GqUw6Ht1aduVxtG7-56enPqxj0LdPtYcjiSqHcZMqrA3TCSVZcey2Tdr2xDegp2haLgz5TinNo_WP1F-Jt4KPle27sFxY8HcvUuU8FYoDB4VYS455UjUFut9P96sNS9jq4CtWSU8/s1600/DSC_0980.JPG" height="640" width="428" /></a></div>
Eliza couldn't wait to give Nathan his card. He, of course, loved it and gave her a rose for Valentine's Day. We discovered that Eliza <i>really</i> loves flowers. She couldn't have been happier about getting a flower from her dad.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEkD9p7AsqCt1DOA7JKAZ9-OfavqG9-bZJytojVjrWs4XsAtHZvQLeYNvbClMN7FEWU4GFk9GGdU8aODue2VXzd0BmxvBRkp0pYnd7xMi6p3MgdFHfTxDygiU7EQGlxU1NUBWNLhtJlmc/s1600/DSC_1002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEkD9p7AsqCt1DOA7JKAZ9-OfavqG9-bZJytojVjrWs4XsAtHZvQLeYNvbClMN7FEWU4GFk9GGdU8aODue2VXzd0BmxvBRkp0pYnd7xMi6p3MgdFHfTxDygiU7EQGlxU1NUBWNLhtJlmc/s1600/DSC_1002.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWXFYAOI_zSaiK_t9fi8t-A6FYSUQ-IppeckaasrDQpIkll72AOpI0DN1oAZK9JZ6YDVFy300UJzk4VhwmmWZAmY55TzMurjqivUgu7DYExVLSfogLzlWUHiKVQyXHEz9Vn06YCBsv3w/s1600/DSC_1006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWXFYAOI_zSaiK_t9fi8t-A6FYSUQ-IppeckaasrDQpIkll72AOpI0DN1oAZK9JZ6YDVFy300UJzk4VhwmmWZAmY55TzMurjqivUgu7DYExVLSfogLzlWUHiKVQyXHEz9Vn06YCBsv3w/s1600/DSC_1006.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
Nathan also got me a dozen roses and a box full of turtle chocolates (my absolute favorite). I know that chocolate and flowers can seem cliche to some, but I love them. I forgot how much I loved flowers until today. I definitely felt loved!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtKGaBD-UuwATdzYQ1mycT32omn2O362TA8aZwGbPJTUflFVw6pGeZcbNgPShxxnsVjSAv9R8nQvwdhyphenhyphenv9JJKcmAtsKAXLCFvwPMRShN73Vn-vBp05KSF7OS3QEn2wQaCDHt4POXOJhvs/s1600/IMG_8313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtKGaBD-UuwATdzYQ1mycT32omn2O362TA8aZwGbPJTUflFVw6pGeZcbNgPShxxnsVjSAv9R8nQvwdhyphenhyphenv9JJKcmAtsKAXLCFvwPMRShN73Vn-vBp05KSF7OS3QEn2wQaCDHt4POXOJhvs/s1600/IMG_8313.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
Nathan really outdid himself, though, when he gave me this beautiful necklace:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6s0b0P33cAIPFAPK1Ni91w8jW5dQQy0TqffmtvKm9yAIzxkBuGJD_Zy29Llja7CJL9LAcFxyl-tHfuImQ3JE1alrnyzdz8g-wC586lknOfXqt6j-xtTeP4SgBV_JuijTRj7K6EdLDHVk/s1600/IMG_8282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6s0b0P33cAIPFAPK1Ni91w8jW5dQQy0TqffmtvKm9yAIzxkBuGJD_Zy29Llja7CJL9LAcFxyl-tHfuImQ3JE1alrnyzdz8g-wC586lknOfXqt6j-xtTeP4SgBV_JuijTRj7K6EdLDHVk/s1600/IMG_8282.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
Yes. It's a tiny little hobbit door LOCKET. He knows me so well! I gave him a card and a six pack of his favorite soda. Obviously, I'm not as good at gift giving. I really need to step it up next year!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF56p3SXuqwTr-c82aioSNp0UnHD2EJCcmxQuj7mSiNcDfA1Q3V9A0E59EVl6XXJDIDnRBDFKS-ntpYnaML1zRXLvucR-9KbyDoWQWz_0PlBtapA9Wldt0Pvic1WXav5GciSNs3aAlcS8/s1600/IMG_8333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF56p3SXuqwTr-c82aioSNp0UnHD2EJCcmxQuj7mSiNcDfA1Q3V9A0E59EVl6XXJDIDnRBDFKS-ntpYnaML1zRXLvucR-9KbyDoWQWz_0PlBtapA9Wldt0Pvic1WXav5GciSNs3aAlcS8/s1600/IMG_8333.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
Nathan and I have changed a lot since 2008, but it's all been for the best. We're pretty lucky to share a life together and have three beautiful kids.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfYQRCYAZyZhSQSoiOFM-jVNpBLc4aTLXMmLVdIyiRaYx3re6IHXlLuusDLXBxRRpEV2EmR9XM9DjlsuytsbN2gAvjmOzeU1m2EQl52qUS1NfIebDRlpSEkDjuONGQi-b4RTHomWYBRIg/s1600/IMG_8329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfYQRCYAZyZhSQSoiOFM-jVNpBLc4aTLXMmLVdIyiRaYx3re6IHXlLuusDLXBxRRpEV2EmR9XM9DjlsuytsbN2gAvjmOzeU1m2EQl52qUS1NfIebDRlpSEkDjuONGQi-b4RTHomWYBRIg/s1600/IMG_8329.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-63742737334061430652014-02-13T17:52:00.000-08:002014-09-27T17:52:28.839-07:00Valentine's Day Party with the LarsonsMy friend Katy is incredibly creative, so when she invited Eliza and the twins over for a Valentine's Day party, I knew we were all in for a treat. She did not disappoint! From heart shaped sandwiches to flower lollipops and delicious red velvet/cream cheese apple spread, the party was a success.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4LV700n4-wqROhhd4U9o8fKq595_kQlfXnZ3U1vd4lUglaNB4n7zvtdQqHjPZkG2NdQOdaJZO7eOb7GVs5OGue8NA9SCeEwcPWWyWQQ3PLw9AaTVaBbYRTu5zeBDwG_K4RjSeHEdxdM/s1600/DSC_0960-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4LV700n4-wqROhhd4U9o8fKq595_kQlfXnZ3U1vd4lUglaNB4n7zvtdQqHjPZkG2NdQOdaJZO7eOb7GVs5OGue8NA9SCeEwcPWWyWQQ3PLw9AaTVaBbYRTu5zeBDwG_K4RjSeHEdxdM/s1600/DSC_0960-001.JPG" height="640" width="462" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpE_ToxtPZvXt9OpS4mbWNnMAgRYkDGuww7ZyueJbPHrue59JO1CCLqmC1etQ3j5jyCvgShIT9AtwZ0wNG9gSJ383bbXyuQxHEeDjRWn_NI5mXJV1jo4TUDxmWUKf2lneJcZqBB2JBXc/s1600/DSC_0963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpE_ToxtPZvXt9OpS4mbWNnMAgRYkDGuww7ZyueJbPHrue59JO1CCLqmC1etQ3j5jyCvgShIT9AtwZ0wNG9gSJ383bbXyuQxHEeDjRWn_NI5mXJV1jo4TUDxmWUKf2lneJcZqBB2JBXc/s1600/DSC_0963.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieXH76p2kuXofG83n4uIjWCjC5oS3ugzIXFcK3rVkQ_GE-5dK4jc34q949QTCzFTw5-ROS6wfjZojPfjiVXKulAJG7cDruaaZ1A6Y7eOFYRzJ9mxhVexICZBXN6R8eAuh1XpnS5xhMit0/s1600/IMG_8238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieXH76p2kuXofG83n4uIjWCjC5oS3ugzIXFcK3rVkQ_GE-5dK4jc34q949QTCzFTw5-ROS6wfjZojPfjiVXKulAJG7cDruaaZ1A6Y7eOFYRzJ9mxhVexICZBXN6R8eAuh1XpnS5xhMit0/s1600/IMG_8238.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Q3vOTMvLaVDu2s9ivhR3AZ1gd0SuMea0P3hcwFMh13JZ-i5Esi3OBHjfYOwLeRf7qlX9Lip5PP27IUFLJEp4tgPMryqvKl3dcKKWFxAyAtMIzcSD4xPxbOhza5yAWSumv-gZa86jLRg/s1600/IMG_8248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Q3vOTMvLaVDu2s9ivhR3AZ1gd0SuMea0P3hcwFMh13JZ-i5Esi3OBHjfYOwLeRf7qlX9Lip5PP27IUFLJEp4tgPMryqvKl3dcKKWFxAyAtMIzcSD4xPxbOhza5yAWSumv-gZa86jLRg/s1600/IMG_8248.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvL-0zQSOW485uaVooFFs96msfx1f-G8elcdIIvN-2WELDfW_dF-ZSUbhb9WwtzsRjurOKOpFqQMDdRd3uM69MY858NVY4WHrRylRi6-ycamVEOsA9KOdneKEpGnW6Ez3jGnHMoB4fKj8/s1600/IMG_8253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvL-0zQSOW485uaVooFFs96msfx1f-G8elcdIIvN-2WELDfW_dF-ZSUbhb9WwtzsRjurOKOpFqQMDdRd3uM69MY858NVY4WHrRylRi6-ycamVEOsA9KOdneKEpGnW6Ez3jGnHMoB4fKj8/s1600/IMG_8253.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4b9fYPAET3ef9B4Z89_3CZ283M4TqZwcA-UBpxpxDThxhr0SgBFW16YGevo4XEzLZ4xVLIGUN44vVhsEUFrN250EXckqBGjSdPNGlry6WenY-GRKzN8aJQg5U49kJdDHuTxkz0d1brnk/s1600/IMG_8255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4b9fYPAET3ef9B4Z89_3CZ283M4TqZwcA-UBpxpxDThxhr0SgBFW16YGevo4XEzLZ4xVLIGUN44vVhsEUFrN250EXckqBGjSdPNGlry6WenY-GRKzN8aJQg5U49kJdDHuTxkz0d1brnk/s1600/IMG_8255.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFXAy9jNRzbGBiOgB10L0Z8H2hvNszT0vD_Qr6Oj8tdfgKid9E_ISVtqHEjn_LuoAonE_w5R7sZtaVe8obXCBc_SbY50RkRXj5lVTq2fSnxDQK-e8FLVs3NsvyNMU6_OuLmm-5QJhx80/s1600/IMG_8256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFXAy9jNRzbGBiOgB10L0Z8H2hvNszT0vD_Qr6Oj8tdfgKid9E_ISVtqHEjn_LuoAonE_w5R7sZtaVe8obXCBc_SbY50RkRXj5lVTq2fSnxDQK-e8FLVs3NsvyNMU6_OuLmm-5QJhx80/s1600/IMG_8256.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
The white chocolate covered Chex cereal was probably my favorite thing. We had such a good time and we still have another party tomorrow!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2a9uJbrNKYqrOsoiVlpgLy8LBY_SKJVTKkIqMe4D2zHujYT0vg0QX-FIeE2ggQoBR3TFqpKWV0PYK53r_pVQHd1uReRWrOhjhFslzHpAGvWZrtH0Lc_pUNTv1DQ-HGPuidrcOnpNoYHU/s1600/IMG_8262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2a9uJbrNKYqrOsoiVlpgLy8LBY_SKJVTKkIqMe4D2zHujYT0vg0QX-FIeE2ggQoBR3TFqpKWV0PYK53r_pVQHd1uReRWrOhjhFslzHpAGvWZrtH0Lc_pUNTv1DQ-HGPuidrcOnpNoYHU/s1600/IMG_8262.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-11699671774129304002014-02-12T17:29:00.000-08:002014-09-27T17:29:51.707-07:00Valentine's Preschool PartyI love being able to volunteer to help with parties at Eliza's preschool. Growing up, my mom worked full time and was never able to be the class mom, attend field trips, or come to any parties. I was always so jealous of those boys and girls who had parents that came to various functions. Fortunately for us, Nathan attends evening classes and is able to work from home. This means I am able to leave the twins with him some days and that I can be involved with Eliza's preschool.<br />
<br />
When I got to the party today, Eliza was so happy to see me! It definitely made me feel loved to hear her proudly introducing me as her mom. As always, the party was great! Miss Kristie really knows how to throw a party for preschoolers. The kids loved playing bingo, throwing bean bags, pinning the arrow onto the heart, and singing songs.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL5pWvrTVkznhaP9MyMUHYH2Yq7G_ioghiBbCXx53ioSDmkAxMS1V2ZY4jPQvxGjCT2scnu17zKUdYwStLUTsjZmuzWI9GLH3xxEsAzR_XMymsI0pe-ZbAVQWv89AZAEmzGObwu5lwCtY/s1600/IMG_8195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL5pWvrTVkznhaP9MyMUHYH2Yq7G_ioghiBbCXx53ioSDmkAxMS1V2ZY4jPQvxGjCT2scnu17zKUdYwStLUTsjZmuzWI9GLH3xxEsAzR_XMymsI0pe-ZbAVQWv89AZAEmzGObwu5lwCtY/s1600/IMG_8195.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSYbxOcCMsay-s4fNp0NZORld_E95Ed4lxx9kTDRp8n3HXBQsYjHZZuPwSDra7AUKsvv_c8qdWw0otKQF57lQumHL22UDPjFy1I4IMQmorJfLKD0lRqtNFq-AxFe5G8hf8ycl3hDCdyo/s1600/DSC_0922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSYbxOcCMsay-s4fNp0NZORld_E95Ed4lxx9kTDRp8n3HXBQsYjHZZuPwSDra7AUKsvv_c8qdWw0otKQF57lQumHL22UDPjFy1I4IMQmorJfLKD0lRqtNFq-AxFe5G8hf8ycl3hDCdyo/s1600/DSC_0922.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYU6MVVCAtmG-0pL53JIi5HBfrstv65bab8EqxL9fet_Tlf0irU3p5l8NnXQqozxOTpYpmXoL04YRxaHVc_cBfRnk7bx8ZhfNs2YlJPK-cpS8eigQMnGNN5d2DAt2TIJacEhUOj3lUCM/s1600/DSC_0923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYU6MVVCAtmG-0pL53JIi5HBfrstv65bab8EqxL9fet_Tlf0irU3p5l8NnXQqozxOTpYpmXoL04YRxaHVc_cBfRnk7bx8ZhfNs2YlJPK-cpS8eigQMnGNN5d2DAt2TIJacEhUOj3lUCM/s1600/DSC_0923.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjx-TDiKAKYb51_PoL0fXn723OGF78JN5FEmkngzZ4xxO_jL_Jwv1uyNSodBxUayOc9_Cs2bz690-G9ixtM40BNyGYsxRYwM5Ms7Peb8LkLIrHEzWLNibMmQ48SGmJVrU8cPpnjLArcVc/s1600/DSC_0925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjx-TDiKAKYb51_PoL0fXn723OGF78JN5FEmkngzZ4xxO_jL_Jwv1uyNSodBxUayOc9_Cs2bz690-G9ixtM40BNyGYsxRYwM5Ms7Peb8LkLIrHEzWLNibMmQ48SGmJVrU8cPpnjLArcVc/s1600/DSC_0925.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVcBcLAMsPQUaIF9bgwhHsCIzMbJ4eO9qzreKhzH8JUiRY0GX43r_j6oDgR-pZC9GDLDWLUjOKpajCK2TD7h-SWC9sizkQH0250B7FoV9tqGINZnSuzTOkSTlIqY9m7K4CkRPXsyDoOvk/s1600/DSC_0929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVcBcLAMsPQUaIF9bgwhHsCIzMbJ4eO9qzreKhzH8JUiRY0GX43r_j6oDgR-pZC9GDLDWLUjOKpajCK2TD7h-SWC9sizkQH0250B7FoV9tqGINZnSuzTOkSTlIqY9m7K4CkRPXsyDoOvk/s1600/DSC_0929.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-nU4Is9tlonPaQMRFliUbI9_Qkmn7FOk6J6DwqLAuqX0FsDUTZWCO065HY6ZHG1TFlpwuFGS7vyf6e6WR_0dV-YL8iwZqktGFdCvBZjNLtn0ZPesHMfPI2wuDDxbAz__TzkIIQTpaLY/s1600/DSC_0933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-nU4Is9tlonPaQMRFliUbI9_Qkmn7FOk6J6DwqLAuqX0FsDUTZWCO065HY6ZHG1TFlpwuFGS7vyf6e6WR_0dV-YL8iwZqktGFdCvBZjNLtn0ZPesHMfPI2wuDDxbAz__TzkIIQTpaLY/s1600/DSC_0933.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zrR9XSUfZYVu2Lk7vMS3cJBMUqJBA9Q2yjEew_xRH1UgT_76nbgk3l9sesruACIl7HF9yonsMVHnWreAi-HTuf9Ks1A14kudxa-_mp5g2SaMNXiX_dRGM22VXJOK-ClhaoMhIzKsAGg/s1600/IMG_8208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zrR9XSUfZYVu2Lk7vMS3cJBMUqJBA9Q2yjEew_xRH1UgT_76nbgk3l9sesruACIl7HF9yonsMVHnWreAi-HTuf9Ks1A14kudxa-_mp5g2SaMNXiX_dRGM22VXJOK-ClhaoMhIzKsAGg/s1600/IMG_8208.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Eliza was excited to hand out her Frozen invitations and couldn't wait to get home so she could go through all of her Valentines.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzs7bhgooX0HBZUzC5lJHQPX9kVc-3JG7lR0ftJOhVJsp1txz1xUlDyUteGzBuNI-7gTCfUw5wgPBeZawoD2Kl_mgc744OjHAWD7iclOEqf5pUZLSOU08nPKOkWG8rSuu8vPN2OiipHKg/s1600/IMG_8191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzs7bhgooX0HBZUzC5lJHQPX9kVc-3JG7lR0ftJOhVJsp1txz1xUlDyUteGzBuNI-7gTCfUw5wgPBeZawoD2Kl_mgc744OjHAWD7iclOEqf5pUZLSOU08nPKOkWG8rSuu8vPN2OiipHKg/s1600/IMG_8191.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
She also requested that some pictures be taken of her wearing her "heart dress" and star glasses. I love her poses!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmFwqxWhQvHeR_c4upy2laVfEvfOUcInoUr_4DyQoB_c3NQeeKV0CQHq9tiFSgRdfbu0wQ6LLvlDneogpz-xeClzwe8V9AcewJw2iugapiY6SKzlaF3rPxzknhLEq1iX6-p2xSbBaxlA/s1600/DSC_0938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmFwqxWhQvHeR_c4upy2laVfEvfOUcInoUr_4DyQoB_c3NQeeKV0CQHq9tiFSgRdfbu0wQ6LLvlDneogpz-xeClzwe8V9AcewJw2iugapiY6SKzlaF3rPxzknhLEq1iX6-p2xSbBaxlA/s1600/DSC_0938.JPG" height="640" width="428" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSNQU4vJzHdCMKt0DaoQQmv7K0L6JWCMnoiB9ecVKsuvKVcW8mpgbJiX1XsmWEM3eACEurJ_DP_IOofxF8Aiz7BHEB_ud9O9jIEFEpmRNILBw_8KZpRJiFUi5bodUCzU0pJgv23VFQsI/s1600/DSC_0951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSNQU4vJzHdCMKt0DaoQQmv7K0L6JWCMnoiB9ecVKsuvKVcW8mpgbJiX1XsmWEM3eACEurJ_DP_IOofxF8Aiz7BHEB_ud9O9jIEFEpmRNILBw_8KZpRJiFUi5bodUCzU0pJgv23VFQsI/s1600/DSC_0951.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmee2XLmIE0ZPeCsfQH6S_zoLlgPkoXYLuntBj4hWVS6rR6LBTQlLSS5WZ2OsVeXNZ6BWMLEz1ZYIC3VkBKexrO_7jA5TdUUfD_A_s4zt8-VS64tmq9bEhsJq43cIatPlHbHvcVxCKGY/s1600/DSC_0959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmee2XLmIE0ZPeCsfQH6S_zoLlgPkoXYLuntBj4hWVS6rR6LBTQlLSS5WZ2OsVeXNZ6BWMLEz1ZYIC3VkBKexrO_7jA5TdUUfD_A_s4zt8-VS64tmq9bEhsJq43cIatPlHbHvcVxCKGY/s1600/DSC_0959.JPG" height="640" width="428" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghF8CHHD9qKooEByNmdbfXn4Rdgs82cdZhDMwEJmspmq3nNSfPIZqYs1JfdxYIpS6pJK0l5IRvq6ucSONstXMxulrrH3sh-lj748KafOstyOld2AZrYcAOefAyTeXj0JytQbc9iKanFnk/s1600/IMG_8209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghF8CHHD9qKooEByNmdbfXn4Rdgs82cdZhDMwEJmspmq3nNSfPIZqYs1JfdxYIpS6pJK0l5IRvq6ucSONstXMxulrrH3sh-lj748KafOstyOld2AZrYcAOefAyTeXj0JytQbc9iKanFnk/s1600/IMG_8209.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
We have TWO more Valentine's Day parties this week! Eliza and I can't wait!Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-70979048451099341892014-02-08T17:00:00.000-08:002014-09-27T17:00:21.072-07:00The Last Week in PhotosNothing too exciting happened the past week, but I thought I would share several of my favorite pictures from the last few days.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisfntrmXWkPQUly6sa3cHBS9dgwMYv452R1_wQS1Gz3CHGIGD6xKcEi7CrAyN5v_bPR74P1dlDcNl0xpp3sY4AwW2elcIPi8KrFU59UqnVhrHCSgrud415bi2L1BeLzCZV8319oHKi9V0/s1600/IMG_7936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisfntrmXWkPQUly6sa3cHBS9dgwMYv452R1_wQS1Gz3CHGIGD6xKcEi7CrAyN5v_bPR74P1dlDcNl0xpp3sY4AwW2elcIPi8KrFU59UqnVhrHCSgrud415bi2L1BeLzCZV8319oHKi9V0/s1600/IMG_7936.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ezra and Elliott got into the Super Bowl spirit. I seriously couldn't stop laughing when I saw this.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf056pDRqHE2gUOtYP2pkqPGcRvWgzs43IqdQFwQ14MdJ3biM4VUqwPjVcVwNhqwVYiWG6yshfeJ92FyxylJWPnB48Ip810xQ_XpN_EmRlGcO3m-dsQC7OB9n7I1Wm1ctEm9xikqsueH4/s1600/IMG_7952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf056pDRqHE2gUOtYP2pkqPGcRvWgzs43IqdQFwQ14MdJ3biM4VUqwPjVcVwNhqwVYiWG6yshfeJ92FyxylJWPnB48Ip810xQ_XpN_EmRlGcO3m-dsQC7OB9n7I1Wm1ctEm9xikqsueH4/s1600/IMG_7952.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cuddles with Haleigh and Brandon!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKSw7zLX2IrY0qx1rkplILK9UHIYR2twCOHZ4-PWzMxJX41jzWLTy61ulRrgFY2t6UEfDkS2CS76kD_lpfLnTgkguyJA6_rXfibkZTPwOCXqlqScau8GuSuRIBhgw9M0PAfXz5i5nBBM/s1600/IMG_7974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKSw7zLX2IrY0qx1rkplILK9UHIYR2twCOHZ4-PWzMxJX41jzWLTy61ulRrgFY2t6UEfDkS2CS76kD_lpfLnTgkguyJA6_rXfibkZTPwOCXqlqScau8GuSuRIBhgw9M0PAfXz5i5nBBM/s1600/IMG_7974.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsVChu7diomgjeo98Y5l-4QB1PgWhR4jyoY9lNOgnv9l1nWOOzHHhwxjOESHWKOnZEvs5biqj1h1y595d4kjkX1jmft9tW6cYMnYq6rCBo4yoh6Hfr_k_En3hmbyv86niaSb_EG0t1YkM/s1600/IMG_7985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsVChu7diomgjeo98Y5l-4QB1PgWhR4jyoY9lNOgnv9l1nWOOzHHhwxjOESHWKOnZEvs5biqj1h1y595d4kjkX1jmft9tW6cYMnYq6rCBo4yoh6Hfr_k_En3hmbyv86niaSb_EG0t1YkM/s1600/IMG_7985.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Elliott giving Nathan kisses. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8DD4boGuagMj88tPq1YqSTmwa5Kvnb4ZlVenQLKSLP3aZ_hlncS32e3FrAbx1q3agxov8nnMPquuoUbDoA3w2teYR3OS4u8HKAXjEvigyFgG601l8bri9B9egs9u6DzTs7lwPe6iYMQ/s1600/IMG_7988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8DD4boGuagMj88tPq1YqSTmwa5Kvnb4ZlVenQLKSLP3aZ_hlncS32e3FrAbx1q3agxov8nnMPquuoUbDoA3w2teYR3OS4u8HKAXjEvigyFgG601l8bri9B9egs9u6DzTs7lwPe6iYMQ/s1600/IMG_7988.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eliza's expression when I told her Landon enjoyed playing with her. I think she was a little flattered and excited.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBXOzYrWwVVmPofmqosr5CUHxI9XIC1pv1BH43qiwqLJ32L9XrgmP-HGWlwKByIQha7mhnAQIn07TgIvv1GJ44PWSQLO4G-_OJ6aVFlHKMZJHsxKem7S-CEpTDCq-tSDvgPN494DVkTQ/s1600/IMG_7991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBXOzYrWwVVmPofmqosr5CUHxI9XIC1pv1BH43qiwqLJ32L9XrgmP-HGWlwKByIQha7mhnAQIn07TgIvv1GJ44PWSQLO4G-_OJ6aVFlHKMZJHsxKem7S-CEpTDCq-tSDvgPN494DVkTQ/s1600/IMG_7991.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eliza rocking some of her new eye patches. She loves them!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSmZkTmHKXFeu-4Mb3WjIsA3SQhCQGIzY10Z7UI3JAEi8KOGUx2-4J5Fh86xeJboBtTYmlsTwL8C1422HlVv8H735hd3sXjmWQ0ecfl1YPAGPHISDJpoe9lIE_79ZtQTlJ8S_hHPdiiA/s1600/IMG_7993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSmZkTmHKXFeu-4Mb3WjIsA3SQhCQGIzY10Z7UI3JAEi8KOGUx2-4J5Fh86xeJboBtTYmlsTwL8C1422HlVv8H735hd3sXjmWQ0ecfl1YPAGPHISDJpoe9lIE_79ZtQTlJ8S_hHPdiiA/s1600/IMG_7993.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The delicious fried okra Kyle brought to our Super Bowl party. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCR8klVbcvIUlwHrwLHqeoE_WS0a6kklfKAFhuW-3dRtAR5DVfM09XwRcK17p-GX7S3bNzg6jNJvBzrBBClMKJBZRserclaMVYyzq4RChF9hREkOtZ1U4kSmFsT8VuL6DVuktCyH6_414/s1600/IMG_8001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCR8klVbcvIUlwHrwLHqeoE_WS0a6kklfKAFhuW-3dRtAR5DVfM09XwRcK17p-GX7S3bNzg6jNJvBzrBBClMKJBZRserclaMVYyzq4RChF9hREkOtZ1U4kSmFsT8VuL6DVuktCyH6_414/s1600/IMG_8001.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Elliott cuddling with his new snow suit. He insisted on sleeping with it.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCuTwGx101yXB0z4IPGCfCV1sX6DQcLmZJf2GotG5d5a9dPLdBCHXrMgmFYTBUhMyQWoLdMWCqIc4O-uCxoIgPx7jtWEf_isjn_pe0k-y9IVxC66-TZAs6OjTTHsHDEVKm0cUyKMtWXXY/s1600/IMG_8005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCuTwGx101yXB0z4IPGCfCV1sX6DQcLmZJf2GotG5d5a9dPLdBCHXrMgmFYTBUhMyQWoLdMWCqIc4O-uCxoIgPx7jtWEf_isjn_pe0k-y9IVxC66-TZAs6OjTTHsHDEVKm0cUyKMtWXXY/s1600/IMG_8005.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eliza excitedly holding a platter full of cookies from the Larsons (they spoil us with treats!). </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYSZxSxIx_sOtvH4IrCz72aTd50pL9j49OgPK52wkG27hrp6mqwyTTOoCW6WDu35U0vutMZ0Z_hAfbhTYxSGsuI8R1A1A8LkFrkeDEjzYfHVEAn5PEUkCP4uuIUNX9hqm2ErIZaImfeI/s1600/IMG_8039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYSZxSxIx_sOtvH4IrCz72aTd50pL9j49OgPK52wkG27hrp6mqwyTTOoCW6WDu35U0vutMZ0Z_hAfbhTYxSGsuI8R1A1A8LkFrkeDEjzYfHVEAn5PEUkCP4uuIUNX9hqm2ErIZaImfeI/s1600/IMG_8039.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Trains at the library!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibH0KbWZiy-UXyw34iXfDa2oSgC6j7FxtGjyct7Bi4nY2aJXDJGVLg1zqulnS-btn1iFufrcpCpjz8UDvQ9vS1VQtVLdT23zKFIEbcE1xLRerG1bOy5xU7ojxjgdhU3AxdAQ8lN8oYvjw/s1600/IMG_8066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibH0KbWZiy-UXyw34iXfDa2oSgC6j7FxtGjyct7Bi4nY2aJXDJGVLg1zqulnS-btn1iFufrcpCpjz8UDvQ9vS1VQtVLdT23zKFIEbcE1xLRerG1bOy5xU7ojxjgdhU3AxdAQ8lN8oYvjw/s1600/IMG_8066.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Elliott loves to put shoes on Nathan's feet. :)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNKEocENqyjK45hE-ylOXvPFYvQOvpcg7rxghv58FC7VUEHqdLtWAetMk91zbCpy5Gbx4AZlh_rj-29w0-Atsj8_-NEp4CdRVaIhbfp1_54t-2ujC2gwBJlROVPQXx8u3cAu7rWUH6-_g/s1600/IMG_8067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNKEocENqyjK45hE-ylOXvPFYvQOvpcg7rxghv58FC7VUEHqdLtWAetMk91zbCpy5Gbx4AZlh_rj-29w0-Atsj8_-NEp4CdRVaIhbfp1_54t-2ujC2gwBJlROVPQXx8u3cAu7rWUH6-_g/s1600/IMG_8067.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eliza drew the two of us playing, and it is basically the greatest drawing I have ever seen. We don't have arms, but we are smiling and love each other.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYRJhEG-gYqzv00oUQ8xCbrhv2jPyULB5gt5szHUJ4WZyUiZ1PZ4CRBBxcSNeDxpSNVYWgXxKg7bYWhJGNC6B2saRfPz2fxtnKyz2b0D5bJLOZCQ85B_kDlbfXNurUHv4oLBhsYvUqKI/s1600/IMG_8071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYRJhEG-gYqzv00oUQ8xCbrhv2jPyULB5gt5szHUJ4WZyUiZ1PZ4CRBBxcSNeDxpSNVYWgXxKg7bYWhJGNC6B2saRfPz2fxtnKyz2b0D5bJLOZCQ85B_kDlbfXNurUHv4oLBhsYvUqKI/s1600/IMG_8071.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Afternoons in Springville.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hA4RQyKOunfez-3tnVRKneBkQiQ2a_eD0LMUljn2iI5CUIgPzgjkSCKJXGoE0wlrsF_ZsVI9oc07yuoIEBNeuuEwN1ZGuYw5BbU7XvzluXBTBOBvFuytPZLnVY9xAzoRFJTcGr9PfVI/s1600/IMG_8088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hA4RQyKOunfez-3tnVRKneBkQiQ2a_eD0LMUljn2iI5CUIgPzgjkSCKJXGoE0wlrsF_ZsVI9oc07yuoIEBNeuuEwN1ZGuYw5BbU7XvzluXBTBOBvFuytPZLnVY9xAzoRFJTcGr9PfVI/s1600/IMG_8088.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Elliott insists on looking at me while I push the stroller. I'm not going to lie--it's pretty flattering :)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMI7Rh87usR4lkehr1x0rdzzrC8GDcisyLmvV-K7A1F1B3vkGIkCd03-4nXN_3d2pUFZBPzKjo_ODxdltI1FB5S_6yHCY8-om2Yx3PuKSrhhfQdwtEInJCU6mVK1XXA_nOX2N-cnupr7U/s1600/IMG_8113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMI7Rh87usR4lkehr1x0rdzzrC8GDcisyLmvV-K7A1F1B3vkGIkCd03-4nXN_3d2pUFZBPzKjo_ODxdltI1FB5S_6yHCY8-om2Yx3PuKSrhhfQdwtEInJCU6mVK1XXA_nOX2N-cnupr7U/s1600/IMG_8113.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eliza looking beautiful and so grown up!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Uy_kK92dLHiL0iaqMUkyCL07K5mLkKIXVnaK3hBYdIdPEtFyo1_CvMMRXJLkQyYUcUK93uaCLAuCFgBm06zHvBxyidlPQOcrCdSCgtQtxH4ZX8L55BpGpRV3AGzrIxFCE3wao7GTAkQ/s1600/IMG_8148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Uy_kK92dLHiL0iaqMUkyCL07K5mLkKIXVnaK3hBYdIdPEtFyo1_CvMMRXJLkQyYUcUK93uaCLAuCFgBm06zHvBxyidlPQOcrCdSCgtQtxH4ZX8L55BpGpRV3AGzrIxFCE3wao7GTAkQ/s1600/IMG_8148.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The boys cuddling with Nathan (I love Ezra's extra cheesey smile).</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
As you can see, the last few days have been pretty great. I feel so lucky to have such an amazing family. </div>
Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-26087516603224149362014-01-31T23:31:00.000-08:002014-09-27T16:31:34.455-07:00Best Gift EverWhen I was a little girl, I always wanted an American Girl Doll. I eventually received a Bitty Baby for Christmas (which I have saved for Eliza), but I never did get an American Girl Doll. My parents bought me an Attic Treasure Doll, which looked a lot like an American Girl, but I knew it was an imposter and was a little disappointed. Overall, my doll Megan was pretty great, though. I loved her clothes and particularly remember dressing her carefully in an ice skating outfit.<br />
<br />
Naturally, most of us want for our children what we wanted for ourselves. For me, this includes an American Girl Doll. With this in mind, just imagine my absolute joy last week when Haleigh texted me a picture of Kirsten and asked me if Eliza would be interested in having it. At first, I thought she was joking! But no, she was serious. Apparently, the little girl Haleigh is a nanny for decided she no longer wanted her American Girl Doll and its accompanying accessories and was planning on donating all of the items to Goodwill. Haleigh luckily thought of Eliza and saved the doll and its clothes for her.<br />
<br />
This morning, Haleigh arrived with the doll and a whole bag of other goodies. It felt like Christmas for Eliza <i>and </i>me!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOfQtOLoJ6m0eeCmKMdjcRRHXe9GPeYYUXZC6sPOgyioZ1X8_w7pewAUYh9_SojYGMZoG0s_K_sL_VAIt1I1ug4sx5tzdrvS9rJoMvtxwBvTxFfXsfMLycLmpJMyq4bWEOa7oAyzea3Y/s1600/IMG_7849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOfQtOLoJ6m0eeCmKMdjcRRHXe9GPeYYUXZC6sPOgyioZ1X8_w7pewAUYh9_SojYGMZoG0s_K_sL_VAIt1I1ug4sx5tzdrvS9rJoMvtxwBvTxFfXsfMLycLmpJMyq4bWEOa7oAyzea3Y/s1600/IMG_7849.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
Eliza has played with her new doll all afternoon!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZa0sjcpGExSM1YEplAe1k0JObuSMtFluVfsZzQaopKitQaAAlhbKo1rDHBoxh6NKkvu5rjlpFewHXP0itWbQYqbdnXn4rY_0pslkWejpQovki7uvjqgu6nR1W2EyDiWvLIv4xqifRo0/s1600/IMG_7930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZa0sjcpGExSM1YEplAe1k0JObuSMtFluVfsZzQaopKitQaAAlhbKo1rDHBoxh6NKkvu5rjlpFewHXP0itWbQYqbdnXn4rY_0pslkWejpQovki7uvjqgu6nR1W2EyDiWvLIv4xqifRo0/s1600/IMG_7930.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
Tonight, she told Haleigh and me that she wanted to call the doll Adeline. She put on the doll's pajamas and tucked her into bed. Eliza still can't believe that she keeps to keep the doll. We're both pretty excited about it :) So, thank you, Haleigh, for helping me realize my childhood dream of having an American Girl Doll. I think I will live vicariously through Eliza.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJMNWgdxbgWp6-fQzU85M0GjpVwVAlTkLHoznDkFAeXgGl7YqN4Dbfq4-ueDUJqtx_hJxesITphjLjhbbezMiNOxews_-Dz2_6TYgeGNVtKeGswmUyNJ9g6BYfLQWKGmxJBqmoghF4kM/s1600/IMG_7939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJMNWgdxbgWp6-fQzU85M0GjpVwVAlTkLHoznDkFAeXgGl7YqN4Dbfq4-ueDUJqtx_hJxesITphjLjhbbezMiNOxews_-Dz2_6TYgeGNVtKeGswmUyNJ9g6BYfLQWKGmxJBqmoghF4kM/s1600/IMG_7939.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
And, in unrelated news, I love the new shirt Eliza wore today. I found it at Old Navy on clearance for $1.50--can't beat that!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIB-TqT2qzK0NTTQShVyA4V5feLzet-pV0fj897JnmVSMrCVtB_x6ctQq9PUo6Jvu4InX9sug_o5gpaz86X9P7dmC74_IJ-lUsWZ7EB5M3LI53ju14O0d0sHq-ymkOmwa4C4Td18Bu7o/s1600/IMG_7922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIB-TqT2qzK0NTTQShVyA4V5feLzet-pV0fj897JnmVSMrCVtB_x6ctQq9PUo6Jvu4InX9sug_o5gpaz86X9P7dmC74_IJ-lUsWZ7EB5M3LI53ju14O0d0sHq-ymkOmwa4C4Td18Bu7o/s1600/IMG_7922.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-89659701727923305012014-01-30T22:17:00.000-08:002014-09-27T16:18:44.983-07:00Tumbling and Dance ClassesEliza started her dance and tumbling classes today. It was snowing, but the boys really wanted to "walk" to the class. By walk, I mean they wanted to have me push them in their stroller which can be extremely tricky to move when there is slushy snow on the ground. I bundled them up, and we walked the two blocks to class.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJDHWJh_MC2WuRZhRIHY7lIVb71Cm9PffrCEvKnmN5EuUSMTnIM_d_U42rCBdnpVAVNGAu2MVKA7Bokuw6fBlDOhGvptDd5GRurI4rnT3hc8OZST7ECntqkXiHhUSEHz6yIJvjrG_r-Dw/s1600/IMG_7902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJDHWJh_MC2WuRZhRIHY7lIVb71Cm9PffrCEvKnmN5EuUSMTnIM_d_U42rCBdnpVAVNGAu2MVKA7Bokuw6fBlDOhGvptDd5GRurI4rnT3hc8OZST7ECntqkXiHhUSEHz6yIJvjrG_r-Dw/s1600/IMG_7902.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
Once we got there, Ezra and Elliott couldn't take their eyes off of Eliza and Landon as they learned new stretches and basic tumbling moves.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt3WM6azjUKWRyWqwOHS_NRPOBfByH1COn3f4Ow4HB1DHe86T-Cf-CwTcte7VactpDq8RfmPY5l73grMKiESRL6yjfWOSCSAXdcmbKPR8WjSkXsj6iVM8dfx_B3890QzEWRvjc5LYle50/s1600/IMG_7887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt3WM6azjUKWRyWqwOHS_NRPOBfByH1COn3f4Ow4HB1DHe86T-Cf-CwTcte7VactpDq8RfmPY5l73grMKiESRL6yjfWOSCSAXdcmbKPR8WjSkXsj6iVM8dfx_B3890QzEWRvjc5LYle50/s1600/IMG_7887.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5FoRkiSojP3_v92i5DHbuIoXoWWkt2u33tu3pHXNqfS30LkYX9XU09a-VxxvB8jRyNWOzqVPDJHkZ5jMHPEC6pYbIt5tKIpxSOoKjKnWyTuGtbEsf-BJXmIf5i0leR1B567vsfDJPQE/s1600/IMG_7901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5FoRkiSojP3_v92i5DHbuIoXoWWkt2u33tu3pHXNqfS30LkYX9XU09a-VxxvB8jRyNWOzqVPDJHkZ5jMHPEC6pYbIt5tKIpxSOoKjKnWyTuGtbEsf-BJXmIf5i0leR1B567vsfDJPQE/s1600/IMG_7901.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
Eliza is excited for Ruby to come home from California and join the class next week. I'm excited for her to have another activity to keep her busy. She loves to constantly be going so hopefully preschool combined with dance, swimming, and tumbling will keep her a happy little girl.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-27590204512294154882014-01-20T16:04:00.000-08:002014-09-27T16:05:15.586-07:00Eliza RecentlyEliza seems so grown up these days. She is great about helping me corral the babies and enjoys being given chores and responsibilities. She has been doing a fantastic job going to sleep since we implemented the "sticker system" and looks forward to earning her sticker every day.<br />
<br />
This week, she was able to cash in her stickers and go on an ice cream date to our favorite ice cream parlor in Springville. She had a great time and loved the window paintings and bubblegum ice cream.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVFWwsG1_Wgf1wF0q8Z6vPzBZZkIvsSM3dYzMEeZC3Gy7MkmfiUT2pUb8B6koASmN-1pVfecLcGhOn17u0oGfrYF6hQcargy4JJoFh_WyxuK1L-h-vToGec2WPUW3rw5emnHz3f5Eb-Y/s1600/IMG_7728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVFWwsG1_Wgf1wF0q8Z6vPzBZZkIvsSM3dYzMEeZC3Gy7MkmfiUT2pUb8B6koASmN-1pVfecLcGhOn17u0oGfrYF6hQcargy4JJoFh_WyxuK1L-h-vToGec2WPUW3rw5emnHz3f5Eb-Y/s1600/IMG_7728.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48_6ZHNK-pVeDJuAiM97JA7-2i1K0Jiq4GdfLOVdFkfSJdlZCP5UQ19-D6Kx8j845F5duzqXE-1D33_WtOAzrE0KzLHdZdih-bmEz89LYiCBkOoNebFmpi2mzkMI-bQzmvKfG9NyfV1E/s1600/IMG_7731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48_6ZHNK-pVeDJuAiM97JA7-2i1K0Jiq4GdfLOVdFkfSJdlZCP5UQ19-D6Kx8j845F5duzqXE-1D33_WtOAzrE0KzLHdZdih-bmEz89LYiCBkOoNebFmpi2mzkMI-bQzmvKfG9NyfV1E/s1600/IMG_7731.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoiM9B2EFy2TeSjxMak_k1quuMDUJNaNd9DclpkyIsCBCeCcUrsa26TB7xYzpPgd4lEsoRoKtEXwWiD5-x24U9bZDp5sOEgy5m57rdiyRBKxeHEhJ1UGKiq8drSnCl-Vmx06Sj06iRek/s1600/IMG_7722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoiM9B2EFy2TeSjxMak_k1quuMDUJNaNd9DclpkyIsCBCeCcUrsa26TB7xYzpPgd4lEsoRoKtEXwWiD5-x24U9bZDp5sOEgy5m57rdiyRBKxeHEhJ1UGKiq8drSnCl-Vmx06Sj06iRek/s1600/IMG_7722.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
She loves playing dress up still and loves to make up stories with Ruby. I hear them pretending to be mermaids and princesses while they play with dolls, and I love that they are constantly using their imaginations.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-wvFxVrEytO0JS0Khef6jOj_JC7CakwrAz3Z6xxxqIe2y2dw1K2N5stnmPKw2SA-ho4rIhYOJ3yQXzsmPHYgsOd9BgNLHkuEaoFohsqAu8bU9stPZY-L-vloZFAcTl-p8XXmrXeCy4I/s1600/IMG_7692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-wvFxVrEytO0JS0Khef6jOj_JC7CakwrAz3Z6xxxqIe2y2dw1K2N5stnmPKw2SA-ho4rIhYOJ3yQXzsmPHYgsOd9BgNLHkuEaoFohsqAu8bU9stPZY-L-vloZFAcTl-p8XXmrXeCy4I/s1600/IMG_7692.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
Eliza still enjoys ballet and can't wait for her next recital. Due to Nathan's school schedule, she will only be taking one class this winter, but I think that is fine with her. She is also going to start a tumbling and dance class taught by a girl in our neighborhood, so she will be plenty busy!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBD2jgduFVK2TEGipmK3RGFfzTPHIICmMEgIxZuXqgrqGXJUUqagNZH_xNKfpwmhqHWkHi614JSJ6JwAgUAWMTATCjIHPmBGx75iKsmsrbMRD_ncwOi4prqPfh7lu1MVI3Xt-8ZX0W9Zk/s1600/IMG_7495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBD2jgduFVK2TEGipmK3RGFfzTPHIICmMEgIxZuXqgrqGXJUUqagNZH_xNKfpwmhqHWkHi614JSJ6JwAgUAWMTATCjIHPmBGx75iKsmsrbMRD_ncwOi4prqPfh7lu1MVI3Xt-8ZX0W9Zk/s1600/IMG_7495.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
And lastly, Eliza is still obsessed with a certain movie. Here's a hint as to what it is:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0XjiXTD3n6pUdN1hWVQGSYu3VS37llJQT7qBMiMF0sPH_WThBODIgXekwQrs2xTigtHSZspJX1OpfWCPi40plmwNqJskCy_4EfYo_ZAB1mmIHZsm-Fd7v6BPCbYbqLb2MmMSGgEBrsDQ/s1600/IMG_7759.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0XjiXTD3n6pUdN1hWVQGSYu3VS37llJQT7qBMiMF0sPH_WThBODIgXekwQrs2xTigtHSZspJX1OpfWCPi40plmwNqJskCy_4EfYo_ZAB1mmIHZsm-Fd7v6BPCbYbqLb2MmMSGgEBrsDQ/s1600/IMG_7759.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-908065110380089046.post-19967010020672421022014-01-15T15:52:00.000-08:002014-09-27T15:52:44.660-07:00Hoodies for DaysMy three favorite guys.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWz7WzlqOW5rhc2alc0OWXriH6K9g39ho7BpAXZ7bBEhGNpV8wjWuSSd0X2Jfi8He78Ipjh1n9xwV4zdwTd2RMFAsGZHumqs7daBTH55ebITvEVjuMbx_rqHlR5BS9y5ZoqRfpE58_os/s1600/IMG_7669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWz7WzlqOW5rhc2alc0OWXriH6K9g39ho7BpAXZ7bBEhGNpV8wjWuSSd0X2Jfi8He78Ipjh1n9xwV4zdwTd2RMFAsGZHumqs7daBTH55ebITvEVjuMbx_rqHlR5BS9y5ZoqRfpE58_os/s1600/IMG_7669.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Celiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390447124868968342noreply@blogger.com0