tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58526183099547731582024-02-07T00:35:26.310-06:00Life in the fast lane - in a slow car...Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.comBlogger317125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-31861760544253388202013-09-18T05:56:00.002-05:002013-09-18T05:56:26.176-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-18268437429031601662013-03-21T16:52:00.000-05:002013-03-21T16:52:07.211-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My blog entry today is just a link to another blog I think you should read. I can really identify with her and her message. I did not write this - <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/05932372757792420889">this lady did</a>. Please read on...<br />
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<a href="http://www.cheetosforbreakfast.com/?m=1" style="color: white; text-decoration: none;">Cheetos for Breakfast</a></h1>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit; padding: inherit;">MONDAY, MARCH 11, 2013</span></h2>
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A Letter To Young Mothers</h3>
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Dear Young Mothers Everywhere—<br /><br />I was one of you once and I know how hard it is.<br /><br />Motherhood has to be the hardest job on the planet but I think it is getting harder. Not harder in the it-hurts-to-push-this-baby-out sort of way. Not harder in the must-lug-gallons-of-water-to-the-stove sort of way. Not harder in the pray-my-children-survive-the-<wbr></wbr>polio-epidemic sort of way. No. In many ways, motherhood has gotten considerably easier. Medical advances and indoor plumbing and labor saving devices have done wonders for the daily life of the average mother. These advances have made life easier and given us free time and kept us from looking like worn out pieces of beef jerky by the time we are 40. But they have come with a cost and that cost is driving us crazy.<br /><div id=":126">
<br />I had my first child in 1990. Back then I was faced with a few choices: Natural childbirth vs. intervention, breast vs. bottle, stay-at-home vs. work, and cloth vs. disposable. That was it. For me, the choices were easy. There were not categories and subcategories and sub-subcategories. There was no internet to tell you the pros and cons of each decision you made. You just did life. You just lived.<br /><br />Even then, in these most basic of decisions, people could get defensive. It wasn't all fun and games. There were awkward moments. I held to my mothering principles with much more vigor than I should have. I failed to be as gracious to those who chose a different path . . . or had the path chosen for them. But looking back that seems rather mild compared to the coming storm.<br /><br />Fast forward a few years and the Great Parenting Debates took over. For the first time I started to see parents treating each other with absolute scorn. No longer were women just a little defensive over their choices. What came next was out and out war.<br /><br />Parenting programs took over churches. Cultural cliques were formed overnight. Parenthood, and motherhood by extension, became a matter of "doing it right." Schedules and disciplines and programs ruled the day and your success was judged by the behavior of your children. Those who succeeded at the program gloated in their success and gave out exhausting and exalted advice, all with an air of superiority and self-righteousness. Those who just couldn't get with the program were left feeling like desperate failures as parents.<br /><br />By 1996 I had 4 kids who were as poor at following programs as I was at implementing them. Our life was just . . well . . . chaos. But it was fun chaos, most of the time. I do remember on more than one occasion being totally overwhelmed and wanting to run off to Montana . . . ALONE, and even once when I actually wished I were deaf, but looking back, I do not have one single regret that I failed to get with the program.<br /><br />Fast forward to today. I have lots and lots of friends on Facebook who are young moms or young moms-to-be. The choices they have before them are astronomical. The websites, the mommy blogs, Pinterest (oh EVIL Pinterest). The stakes are high. The expectations are huge. The consequences of every little decision are supposedly so dire. At least that is what they say.<br /><br />Somewhere along the way we began to believe a lie. And it is a LIE FROM THE PIT OF HELL. The lie that there is one right way to be a mother. The lie that we must make every RIGHT decision or the consequences will be catastrophic. The lie that we can control our children's lives. The lie that being a failure as a mother is a fate worse than death.<br /><br />Run, I say, RUN to pick up your Bible. Turn to Micah 6:8 and read aloud what it says. "He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does The Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."<br /><br />No mention of childbirth techniques or clever birth announcements. No mention of diapers, cloth or not. No mention of schedules. No mention of highchair manners. No mention of education. No mention of medical advances or food sources. No mention of anything specific at all.<br /><br />God does not require of you to be a perfect mother. The minute you begin to gloat over your successes or wallow in your failures you are using the wrong measuring stick.<br /><br />So if you want to put your baby in all organic diapers and grow and make your own baby food, go right ahead. If you just gave your toddler a can of cold Spaghetti-os for lunch, no problem, you are in good company (even if no one else admits it). If you can homeschool with delight and your kids thrive in the environment, good for you. If you feel that a professional teacher may be a better choice for your child, you may be right. If you are concerned about vaccines and decide to withhold them, fine. If you are concerned about communicable diseases and feel that having immunizations are in the best interest of your children, go for it.<br /><br />We are limited and finite and can only do so much. God created us with different strengths and weaknesses, gives us different resources, places us in different circumstances. This one-size-fits-all-robot-<wbr></wbr>Stepford-mom stuff is robbing us of our joy and pulling us away from what we were created to do: To do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with our God.</div>
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<br />With sympathetic love-</div>
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A Worn Out Mom and Kindred Spirit<br /><br />P.S. (added 3/14/13): Wow! This letter has been read by more people than all my other posts combined—and then some! Thank you to so many who have passed it along. (If you found this post encouraging, you might also read <a href="http://cheetosforbreakfast.blogspot.com/2012/05/broken-mothers-day.html" style="color: #cc6211; text-decoration: none;">Broken Mother's Day</a>. And my previously most-read post, <a href="http://cheetosforbreakfast.blogspot.com/2012/04/no-words-just-tears.html" style="color: #cc6211; text-decoration: none;">No Words, Just Tears</a>.)</div>
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Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-10458545356153736142012-09-19T14:12:00.000-05:002012-09-19T21:26:00.684-05:00Membership has it's privileges...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">M</span>y love affair with American Girl dolls goes back to when the
company was called The Pleasant Rolland Company after the founder. Catalogs came out with these delightful dolls
and their accessories from different times in American history - there were no stores; it was all mail order. My
favorite was Samantha and I got my first doll, Samantha, in December
1987 when we were living in Norway. Mike's folks brought her and all her
furniture and accessories on a flight from Dallas to Germany where we
met them for a week's vacation in early December. There was also a
Samantha doll that Santa would be giving Jennifer soon. When Mattel
bought the company, I feared quality would go down and prices up, but
fortunately that never happened. Throughout the following years, Addie joined our ranks as well as a Bitty Baby when they were introduced. I still have my dolls and furniture - my Samantha is even signed by Pleasant Rolland.<br />
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Last Friday night, Mirai and I attended a very fun "gala" for Hermann Memorial Children's at the new American Girl Store opening in Memorial City. I had received an invitation from the Dallas store that was received the day I was to respond - and I read the email late at night. Gasp! What did I miss? Would I still be able to go?? Was it too late??? (cut to "long night of wondering if priorities were right but still sleepless as mind raced with fear that my opportunity was lost forever...")<br />
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The next morning, I called BRIGHT and EARLY (no mean feat for me, I guarantee) the phone number indicated. After a bit of a shuffle and a promised "we'll call you back", I did get a phone call with a "Yes, you ARE on our list - just had to make sure and our system is acting up today".<br />
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I've never been the person who went clubbing but I've seen it on TV. Girls wait outside in their skimpiest "best" waiting to be picked to go into said club based on their looks I guess. Either that or they are "on the list". So imagine how I felt to know I was on "THE list" at the American Girl Store for the pre-opening Benefit! Don't get me wrong - it came with a price (aka "donation") to Hermann Memorial Children but, still, I was "on the list". (Did I mention I was on "the list"?) Squeeee!!!<br />
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We arrived about ten minutes prior to opening time and checked in. Yes indeed, I was ON the list. :) We got in the queue and waited with all the other super excited, can't believe we are here other little girls, moms and grandmas. There were even a few dads and papas. A children's choir, all outfitted in "American Girl - Houston" t-shirts was singing for every one's enjoyment while we waited. Elsewhere, lines were beginning to form for obtaining timed entry tickets for the Grand Opening that started the following morning.<br />
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Six-thirty arrived and we started moving into the store which is Retail Mecca to the American Girl Aficionados of the world. We were greeted by a team of managers that were from other stores across America. Wait staff held aloft trays of deletable foods - crab cakes, meatballs on a stick, coconut chicken and pigs-in-a-blanket. Food stations were set up throughout the store with different cuisines - one had mac and cheese, mini hot dogs, fresh fruit and jello jigglers. Others had Chinese food, salads, carved beef, hamburger sliders, and 'decorate your own cookies'. In the Bistro, a dessert buffet was set up as if all that other food wasn't enough! Pink lemonade was in abundance as well.<br />
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Soon after we entered the store, greeting and being greeted by staff, I hear a voice, "I KNEW you'd be here!" I look up and it's Liz, a manager from the Dallas AG store! She comes over and gives me a big hug before introducing me to the Houston store manager. We visited a bit and she even held Mirai's doll so Mirai could get more food from one of the stations. After sampling the culinary delights, we wandered the store and selected a "few" (cough, cough...) things. I also kept an eye on the Silent Auctions that were located in a cordoned off area just outside the store benefiting HMC. I had my eye on two sets in particular so started doing my part by bidding them up fast. It's for charity so the bids needed to reflect that, right?<br />
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Mirai decorated her own cookie (as did I - delicious homemade style sugar cookies just like you make at Christmas!) They had cookies cut in heart and circle shapes as well as big bowls of butter cream icing in pink, green and yellow. Choices of embellishments were aplenty - Mirai went straight for the pink crystal sprinkles. A quick trip back to check the Silent Auction bids and we headed back inside to look around some more.<br />
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Several girls visited with Mirai and she with them. Moms stopped to talk with some of the girls as well and there was a definite festive party feel and "doll camaraderie" that was inclusive the entire night. I only witnessed one incident where an adult acted rude to the staff, acting 'put out' about something petty. The rest of us glared at her for her impudence. :) Such behavior was unseemly at a Benefit, especially one held in a store that creates products to actively encourage kind and polite behavior of girls and young ladies.<br />
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Liz came back over to introduce me to Chris, the manager of the Bistro. She knew I was planning a birthday party there for Kennedy's 8th birthday next month and wanted to make sure we met so all my concerns could be addressed and needs met. I admit it was a bit heady to be introduced to so many people as if I were a VIP or something instead of just a gramma who still likes to play with dolls! <br />
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I got in the checkout line as the time for the closing of the store was fast approaching. Staff came over to let us all know the Silent Auction was closing in minutes. I was 3rd in line to reach the checkout but left the queue to make sure I was getting at least ONE of my auctions before they closed. I was in luck - I was the last bidder on both of them. I loitered a bit while Mirai personalized a zipper canvas bag waiting to see if I'd won for sure. The 10 second countdown began and...I WON THEM BOTH!!<br />
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One item was the new Caroline doll with her accessories, skiff and the entire boxed set of books, signed by the author no less. I didn't realize the part about "signed by author" until Sunday, oddly enough, when I noticed both writing on the exterior of the box and the ribbon on the book box not tied well. I untied the ribbon, pulled out a book and, sure enough, it had been signed by Kathleen Ernst. Each book (all six) were signed as well as the book box. Woot!<br />
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The other auction set included the new VW Beetle car, the dolls Ivy and Julie, the car wash set and the books for both Ivy and Julie. The car is a lot of fun - it has working headlights, radio, horn and ignition/running "sounds". They even got that hollow muffler loud engine sound that I remember VW Bugs making! It will be fun to see the boy's reaction to the car as that was what got their attention when we went to the Dallas store. If a Matchbox car holds interest of a young man for hours, imagine the delight in one that is much larger!<br />
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I got back into the checkout line which, so soon to closing, was about 20 people deep. Mirai was a bit "partied out" by this time. It was 9pm - the party was slated to end at 8:30 but they "soldiered on" as there were so many in line still. I found a bench where Mirai could sit and I could still keep an eye on her. It took awhile to get to the registers, but everyone was in a great mood, there was much laughing and visiting and before I knew it, I was finished and they were helping me to the car with my purchases and auction items. As we exited the store, Mirai got a "goody bag" with several books and a doll sized t-shirt with "American Girl - Houston" printed on it. I got a big hug from Liz before I left and an admonition to not forget to visit them at the Dallas store!<br />
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All in all, it was a magical evening, the 2nd "Happiest Place on Earth" (Disney parks being the first obviously...) Some individual highlights for both of us include:<br />
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Mirai - decorating her own cookies; personalizing her canvas zipper bag; the Jello jiggler "orange slices" and the different food stations; the goody bag<br />
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Cheri - winning the silent auctions, getting invited in the FIRST place to attend, being recognized by Dallas store friends, getting to go with Mirai to such a fun party!<br />
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The next day, I find that quite a few "friends" had been joy-riding all night. Oh dear...<br />
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Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-30745583966341794452012-09-13T09:35:00.002-05:002012-09-13T09:42:02.014-05:00School days...Public School Days that is...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Mirai is officially in Kindergarten. "Real school" as some refer to it although I'd challange someone to the death if they said that to me last year when Mirai was in Miss Boo's pre-k at Yellow Brick Road. If that wasn't "real school", I don't know what is. Last year's pre-k is what has made this year's transition to kindergarten seamless. And I do mean SEAMLESS. I was the one intimidated by all the 'process' of public education - the enrollment, where to go for leaving off and picking up, orientations (and the lack of obvious notification thereby missing most of it), school handbooks and the (now I know annual) mountain of papers that come home that first week spelling out the consequences for non-compliance to a myriad of rules put in place, I'm sure, by past lawsuits and enforced by the Law of the Land. Yes, heady stuff indeed.<br />
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You see, my "original three" went to school overseas in private International schools. They were more of community than an Institution. And America was still considered a "Christian Nation" so there was more conservatism than not. The schools in which our children were enrolled did not "teach to the test" to obtain federal money. We were indeed fortunate that Amoco paid the fees for these private schools overseas which gave our children a solid educational foundation and a sense of the aforementioned community. But I digress. This is about Mirai and Kindergartin.<br />
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Her first day of school was flawless. I had bought a 'time timer' that helped her with time management. And I highly recommend these! I put 10 minutes on and placed the clock where she could see it. 10 minutes to go to the bathroom and brush her teeth. She needs this because, otherwise, she'll come downstairs and curl up in a fetal position at the foot of the stairs and just go back to sleep. <br />
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Then I'd set 10 more minutes to get dressed and come in to do hair. Then 10 more minutes for breakfast. Worked. like. a. charm...</div>
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There is homework every day which is a new concept for me. "Back in my day", kindergarten was a vehicle by which children learned three things basically:</div>
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1) Wait in line</div>
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2) Don't eat your crayons</div>
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3) Spell your name</div>
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Today's Modern Kindergartener must know their alphabet before the first day of class and, hopefully, all their numbers. They must already be independent. In other words, today's kindergartener is my 2nd grade. AND they (both the school and a lot of parents) are already wanting to identify "gifted" students and put them in special programs. I'll hasten to add right now that I'm not against challenging kids to do the best they can and continue to reach. But these are FIVE YEAR OLDS. I'm foreseeing burnout by 8th grade at this rate. Since when did being competitive in the world have to start at five years old? And I know a lot of "successful" folks that had a great childhood, unfettered by a push to excel that started in kindergarten. Okay, I'll get off my soapbox...for now.</div>
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For her birthday, she'd received a Skippyjon Jones backpack and that one is her favorite. As long as they don't throw Physics textbooks into the mix this year, I think Skippyjon will do just fine, thank you very much. </div>
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Day One she marched into that classroom and never looked back. I did not go in with her past the door to her room, and Day Two I just dropped her off near the door to the Kindergarten wing. When school is over, she comes bounding out full of information about what happened that day. I asked her what her favorite thing was - "Snack time". Of course. There's plenty of time to let her know later that one cannot get a degree in Snack Time (although going to a Culinary Institute would be close I guess...) The first week she got to be the "go bag" person which took me a while to figure out - she kept telling me, "I carry the black bag everywhere we go". Okay. And what's IN this black bag? "I don't know - paper and books?" Ms. Fyke confirmed that when they go from class to class, there is a bag that carries all the papers and things they'll be working on and a student is selected each week I'm assuming to carry out the courier services. Mirai was honored. </div>
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With Mirai being one of the youngest (if not youngest) in her class, with a July birthday, I had some reservations about her readiness to be in kindergarten but those doubts have been laid aside as I see her blossom and grow in her new environment. And, having done this before, I know to sit back and enjoy the ride because it won't be long before she's in less innocent environs. Vive kindergarten!</div>
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Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-4792815922049019262012-09-10T11:14:00.000-05:002012-09-10T11:18:33.414-05:00"Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get married..."<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Where does one begin when the last post was last YEAR? I guess randomly. So here goes!<br />
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This past weekend was the wedding of a dear friend of ours (and Mirai's "nanny"), Amanda, to her best friend, Manny. And Mirai was the Flower Girl. Last January, after a fairy tale proposal - literally, a fairy tale proposal in front of Cinderella's Castle at Walt Disney World, Amanda asked Mirai to be her flower girl. I'm not sure Mirai really grasped the concept of what that meant - she just knew it was something special, that Amanda wanted her and she was content.<br />
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A dress style was selected almost immediately - a Marie Antoinette style dress. It would have to be made - the only one "ready-made" was from an outfit in the UK. Between shipping costs, the possibility of it not fitting and returns added to the very real fact that Mirai is a GROWING girl, it was decided that the dress would need to be made. Tonya Mayberry, fellow Christian, good friend, and excellent seamstress was asked to make the dress. About a month ago, I went shopping with Julie (Amanda's mom - also fellow Christian and good friend - don't know about the "excellent seamstress" moniker however -ha!) to get the beautiful Dupioni silk in ivory that would be the main fabric of the dress. And, sure enough, the measurements taken at the beginning of summer were vastly different from the taller and more rounded Mirai of late August. I scoured the internet for just the right shoes finding lovely kid leather ballet slipper flats (with ribbon ties no less!) in a soft silver grey.<br />
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The first fitting was almost better than the Bibbity Bobbity Boutique at Disney when the "reveal" happened. Julie, Amanda and I were just wowed by this dress! I think Mirai thought it was a real princess dress although I could hear in my head what would come when it was being fitted ("It's scratchy!").<br />
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The dress fitting itself was great fun mainly because Amanda was getting her wedding gown fitted as well! Those two girls are peas-in-a-pod! A few adjustments were needed and we left the dress with Tonya. The shoes were a perfect compliment and we left.<br />
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Unbeknownst to Mirai, I'd commissioned a "mini-me" dress for her American Girl doll. When I went to pick up Mirai's dress the next week, the doll dress was finished as well. How adorable was THAT??<br />
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We didn't give her the doll dress until the day of the wedding, which was last Friday. She loved it! I did caution her that the doll could NOT go down the aisle with her at the wedding which was a good thing - because that doll was a constant companion the REST of the time!<br />
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We headed to the wedding venue arriving mid-afternoon. After her hair was done, it was almost time for the formal photos before the wedding. I wasn't there for those but heard that her doll was in many of them - oh dear, sorry about that, Amanda!<br />
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Amanda's bridal attendants were so caring of Mirai, watching out for her, giving instruction when needed and reining her in as well. All-in-all, I think Mirai behaved very well for a five year old "in the spotlight". Let's just say we had some preconceived concerns that never came to fruition. <br />
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This may well be my favorite photo from the time up in the Bride's Salon before the wedding. My "two girls", both excited and anticipatory, albeit for different reasons, but still so animated and happy!<br />
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Some final hair adjustments by Amanda before heading down. </div>
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I'm sure there will be more photos later but these are the ones I took. It was such an honor to be involved in this wedding in so many ways, to feel included in family and to share the joy and happiness of this great day! Congratulations to Amanda and Manny - may your years be long, your disagreements few, your friendship always growing and your love always deepening. Praise God from whom ALL blessings flow!</div>
Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-45455214721830024242011-12-22T01:52:00.002-06:002011-12-22T01:54:20.406-06:00If I worked for NASA...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
....I'd have been fired by now.<br />
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I'm not good with deadlines. I usually MEET them, but the toll to my person and psyche can be murder. And Christmas this year is no exception. As I joked to my friends recently, "I'm having blessing management issues!"<br />
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It is T-minus 1 day till our first family of company arrives. Not one single wrapped gift under the tree yet. Not one. T-minus 2 days till second family arrives. Bunk beds aren't made up in the "Boy's Room" nor the trundle for Kennedy in Mirai's room. T-minus 2-1/2 days till youngest son arrives. And his bed is filled with outgrown Mirai clothing I want Jennifer to go through before he arrives. T-minus 3 days till we open gifts. Did I mention none are wrapped yet??<br />
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I got over-ambitious with a plan to overhaul Mike's garage while he was away in Angola. We were delayed 2 days by Ikea fibbing about the original cabinet delivery date. Then delayed twice more when parts were either missing or missmarked necessitating runs back to Ikea before progress could be made. Meanwhile, Mike finds out he will need to be in Angola till the 20th but will come home for 5 days in the middle of the month so he can actually BE with the family some leading up to Christmas Day and ends up arriving on Day 2 of installation. Surprise! Even though it wasn't finished, I assure you he WAS pleasantly surprised to find that his garage had been gutted, cabinets were being assembled, walls repainted, peg board installed, new electrical outlets where needed and a special cubby for garbage can storage were either in place or planned for execution within the week. He left for Angola last Friday coming home today to a completely finished, painted, electrified and completely unrecognizable double garage. Tomorrow he and Martin and JR, my "husbands-for-hire" handymen, will start moving things back and putting them in the cabinets and drawers that are empty and begging for occupants.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YI9LapGXHc4/TvLg0Z32BuI/AAAAAAAAF1w/UB2nXy1OxHE/s1600/391804_2810247104020_1494010905_32819260_732447717_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YI9LapGXHc4/TvLg0Z32BuI/AAAAAAAAF1w/UB2nXy1OxHE/s640/391804_2810247104020_1494010905_32819260_732447717_n.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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While Operation Christmas Surprise for Mike was underway and he was out of the country, I had two major drawbacks that sidelined me even further. On Sunday, my back of my right knee 'popped' as I slid into the pew at church. Excruciating pain shot down my leg to the foot and up to the thigh. During the final song before the sermon, while everyone was standing, Mirai and I beat as hasty a retreat as my now crippled leg would allow. I was in agony by the time we got home and, in tears, I called Mike in Luanda and poured out my tale of woe. I wanted both sympathy AND a solution! We decided I'd better get it checked out at the ER in case it was a torn ligament or tendon. I called Mom and she came and too me in. Fortunately, it was a sprained knee and 2 xrays, four hours, one knee immobilizer, 2 crutches and a mighty powerful shot of something that left me very floaty and "happy" later, I was home with instructions to see an ortho doc within 2 days and an arsenal of pain relievers and muscle relaxers. Mom decided to move in for the duration of Mike's absence since there was no way I could navigate stairs to Mirai's room. I could be 5 years old again (except my mom brought me peanut butter toast and hot coffee this time!) I'm not sure what I would have done if she hadn't moved in.<br />
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No Christmas prep accomplished of course. Other than consumption of sticky toffee pudding to ease my woes. I was couch or bed-bound. But being on pain medication with Codeine as a main ingredient dulled me to this fact. Sigh.<br />
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Monday I got into the doc and it was determined that I probably had a small tear in the meniscus of my knee and physical therapy for about six weeks would be preferable to any surgery. If it got worse within the six weeks, a revisit would be in order to re-evaluate. But by nightfall, I really didn't need the crutches anymore nor the painkillers and I've just had to be careful to not overextend the knee joint and not walk too quickly, easing myself up or down the occasional step. <br />
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Tuesday I was wheezing like an old accordian. Called my PA and got in to see her. Bronchitis. Wheeze in the lungs. Steroid taper and antibiotic. I'm officially feeling like the poster child for Overmedicated Moms of America (OMA!) And I didn't get the RX till about 6pm. And if you've even had a steroid taper, you take ALL the tablets for the day up to the time of day you receive the script. Well, it was night so that meant taking all SIX tablets at once. I could have consumed a pot of coffee and the result would have been the same. To say I was "revved up" would be an understatement. By 2:30pm I finally drifted off to sleep to be awakened by Mike's arrival the next morning at 7:30.<br />
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Today we got some much needed shopping taken care of. Mirai spent the day with Amanda at Miss Julie's (two of her FAVORITE people I might add!) while Mike and I attempted to get lots done. We did manage to get the piles of unwapped gifts sorted into new pile by name of recipient. So at least I have an organized set of mountains waiting for me to go into a wrapping-frenzy on Thursday.<br />
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It will get done. It always seems to. But I sincerely hope that my vow to be better prepared NEXT year actually comes to fruition. I'm getting to old to cut it this close. But you KNOW why I do it...<br />
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May your shopping be done. May your house be clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy. May you smile through the wee hours of the a.m. while hastening to finish up the final details. And may you be infinitely better prepared than me! <br />
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</div>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-1596042322537261262011-10-31T06:00:00.001-05:002011-10-31T06:00:14.261-05:00Halloween...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Does anyone know who this is supposed to be? I haven't carved a pumpkin in YEARS so this was quite the experience for me. Just curious to know if anyone can figure out who it is.</div><br />
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Here's a hint - it's a character from Mirai's favorite movie right now. Not mainstream. And the pumpkin really isn't shaped well for depicting this character but we do what we can with what we've got.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IjbM2CBXuvw/Tq4mWZWdxzI/AAAAAAAAF08/Q6a__Aj5-lE/s1600/DSC_0369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IjbM2CBXuvw/Tq4mWZWdxzI/AAAAAAAAF08/Q6a__Aj5-lE/s320/DSC_0369.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Figure it out? Leave me a comment and I'll let you know later on in the evening.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CnYU2Ucn77k/Tq4mNEGSjdI/AAAAAAAAF0s/iDOzQwWkFdg/s1600/DSC_0360+-+Version+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CnYU2Ucn77k/Tq4mNEGSjdI/AAAAAAAAF0s/iDOzQwWkFdg/s320/DSC_0360+-+Version+2.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Hmmm, should have put some acorns around as well... </div></div>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-87913219566672251722011-10-30T10:08:00.008-05:002011-10-30T21:05:13.729-05:00All things Mirai - an update...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NwoID_3Hz9c/Tq1zef3wOSI/AAAAAAAAFy8/U_LCY6IpHmo/s1600/DSC_0336%2B-%2B2011-10-27%2Bat%2B10-10-19.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669314473717938466" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NwoID_3Hz9c/Tq1zef3wOSI/AAAAAAAAFy8/U_LCY6IpHmo/s400/DSC_0336%2B-%2B2011-10-27%2Bat%2B10-10-19.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
I remember the days when I thought blogging every day was a great idea. Then weekly seemed a suitable pace. Now, if I can blog once a month, I feel like I've really accomplished something and am waiting for a Presidential hopeful who will campaign for annual blog posts - okay, just kidding on the last one, but, at the rate I'm going, annual posting may be the most realistic frequency. It's not that there's not much going on, there is. I just don't seem to have the energy to get it down anymore. Probably need more exercise and could probably make a buck touting a new program "Pilates for Bloggers" or some such nonsense. But like anything else in this world, if it's worth doing, make time for it. And today, seeing as how I'm home sick from church with a sinus infection and a four year old who has had the good sense to sleep in, I might as well wade in.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">First day of school at Yellow Brick Road Preschool</span> </div><br />
School has been in full swing for Mirai for two months now. And this is Pre-K, the "go three days a week and no nap" kind of school that readies a child for the 7 hours/day, 5 days/week marathon that is coming next school year. And I think she may well be ready come Fall 2012 - oh that feels weird to type - 2012 - but it's just around the corner!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrf3FZRa52QYM-nEF2waHT-zlXbJWbyjydygh5ZikfB-CbXeYYSWOA7BS4As5HHfnGRjSPiv4Z2gIKkKF0jH84roHLB6vvAYe2rUyrRn57PS5wnc7uKr-jyrP-6H49NRF8ENmaR2mlFs/s1600/DSCN0047+-+2011-09-05+at+11-53-28.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669314465995178754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrf3FZRa52QYM-nEF2waHT-zlXbJWbyjydygh5ZikfB-CbXeYYSWOA7BS4As5HHfnGRjSPiv4Z2gIKkKF0jH84roHLB6vvAYe2rUyrRn57PS5wnc7uKr-jyrP-6H49NRF8ENmaR2mlFs/s400/DSCN0047+-+2011-09-05+at+11-53-28.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Ah, foiled again! Guess who just got up...to be continued after breakfast...<br />
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Okay, girlfriend is fed and watching "Olivia" on Tivo. To continue...<br />
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At our congregation, we tied in the annual Kary Rice Harvest Festival with our Good News Series, providing parking and restroom facilities to the public while providing information about the church, a petting zoo, live entertainment, refreshments and lots of fellowship. There was a ton of preparation and Mirai spent several days after school with me in the Office workroom cutting out letters for signs and doing other prep work. She was a trooper! She also made a LOT of new friends with the teenagers who were also there working hard. It was a good experience for everyone but it was especially good for Mirai in my opinion.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0mi8bqljOj0/Tq10zEtZ2AI/AAAAAAAAF0E/Sefp1SFgqdQ/s1600/DSC_0265%2B-%2B2011-10-08%2Bat%2B10-33-17.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669315926715652098" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0mi8bqljOj0/Tq10zEtZ2AI/AAAAAAAAF0E/Sefp1SFgqdQ/s400/DSC_0265%2B-%2B2011-10-08%2Bat%2B10-33-17.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
In between the start of school and the Good News Series, we celebrated two cousin's birthdays - Ben's, up in Keller, in mid-September and Kennedy's, in Pflugerville, in early October. Can you believe I didn't take a single photo? (the two below were taken by Megan) Again, falling down on the Gramma job. Both turned seven years old. Ben had a Ninjago (Lego Ninjas) party and Kennedy had a Princess party.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-NRmYCzJtnx2q4voBDK91GIo6ZwbS0QoBaeqZxxvmWq-46t4Wy60Cz46fWLJaf6Uio65CV4sadLCZBm5kT9wo1hg4s2voRmG2C9cqsw45LD5jscjtVLmVzFtTSeU-9Ji-EYD_lSv2Zo/s1600/NinjaCousins.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669352079472873730" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-NRmYCzJtnx2q4voBDK91GIo6ZwbS0QoBaeqZxxvmWq-46t4Wy60Cz46fWLJaf6Uio65CV4sadLCZBm5kT9wo1hg4s2voRmG2C9cqsw45LD5jscjtVLmVzFtTSeU-9Ji-EYD_lSv2Zo/s400/NinjaCousins.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 85%;">This makes me laugh - the three "2007 Cousins" strike a Ninja pose<br />
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I was looking for a particular DVD yesterday and found the DVD that Megan made for Ben and Kennedy's joint 1st Birthday party back in 2005 (when we still lived in England) and I watched it, tearing up several times. Those chunky monkey babies have no more baby fat whatsoever, both are in First Grade and can READ now - a far cry from those days when we thrilled at their rolling over and eating pureed vegetables. I'm so glad they made so many home videos (put to great music) so I can play "remember when?" and they can continue to pull at my heart strings "on demand".<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hswvMkdBIzE/Tq2VrqK6JSI/AAAAAAAAF0g/oOZfMy9AC2A/s1600/BenBirthdayKB.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669352083216278818" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hswvMkdBIzE/Tq2VrqK6JSI/AAAAAAAAF0g/oOZfMy9AC2A/s400/BenBirthdayKB.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 265px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 85%;">Ben and Kennedy (known as Ken and Bennedy when they were babies)<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqIefiyhVN2Rbm7VkgR6ZLUC62MC7rbmM4gj0qpR9dEqQpWAhJiQmP-HFgBtVei6OyT1JM_4AXumdbvK4UrNDxus6p5apKSl-fqSds2pxlrmwMgDYbkdZSVfJVMWdpfxY5EDuarbd6YY/s1600/DSC_0352+-+2011-10-27+at+10-11-39.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669314481347189554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqIefiyhVN2Rbm7VkgR6ZLUC62MC7rbmM4gj0qpR9dEqQpWAhJiQmP-HFgBtVei6OyT1JM_4AXumdbvK4UrNDxus6p5apKSl-fqSds2pxlrmwMgDYbkdZSVfJVMWdpfxY5EDuarbd6YY/s400/DSC_0352+-+2011-10-27+at+10-11-39.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 85%;">Princess Ariel before her school Debut for the Halloween Party<br />
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</span></div>Last week, Mirai had her Halloween party at school. As she had her Bibbity Bobbity Boutique experience in Disneyland this past summer, she was Princess Ariel. I think she may well get a year or two out of that dress so the price they charge for the BBB doesn't seem so bad if stretched out over a year and several dress-up occasions! She also wore it at Kennedy's Princess party - glad she never tires of it! They take their costuming VERY seriously at Yellow Brick Road School!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXPoX0xX-8WAiD2WKQE7YM7I-p5RIG20cK9ns7m1owgL7vqkoGmDwaGj-9Q9pQM7mAr1uhC3_VoJ_GHU8nUdMMK18mmObN1Gg4B1fxU8YMqwNIuC3z6c0uND59oBy5F4LzRo8kJKjUa5Q/s1600/DSC_0359+-+2011-10-27+at+10-39-05.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669314492742629202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXPoX0xX-8WAiD2WKQE7YM7I-p5RIG20cK9ns7m1owgL7vqkoGmDwaGj-9Q9pQM7mAr1uhC3_VoJ_GHU8nUdMMK18mmObN1Gg4B1fxU8YMqwNIuC3z6c0uND59oBy5F4LzRo8kJKjUa5Q/s400/DSC_0359+-+2011-10-27+at+10-39-05.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Tomorrow is Halloween and, if I feel better, hope to take her Trick-or-Treating. It will our first as last year we were at Walt Disney World. I haven't taken a child T-or-T in decades - should be interesting! I do know to check her candy when we get home, removing any suspicious items and all the candy bars I like. That's how it works, right?!?<br />
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I carved our pumpkin and all I can say is, either knives are better made today or I can afford better knives than I had back when Jen, Tim and Chris were little - and I didn't cut myself! I'll wait and post a photo of it tomorrow but I'm fairly pleased with the outcome. Now, we'll just have to see if anyone can recognize who it is.<br />
<br />
Now a few things for my own reference in the future. Mirai has progressed (sniff...) from her Knuffle Bunny and Amanda and Her Alligator series. Rarely will she let us read those anymore. She prefers four or five Bible stories followed by something along the lines of Ree Drummond's "Charlie, the Ranch Dog". She's been looking through her library picking out new material and I know this is a good thing even though I miss her having solitary favorites. Her entourage at bedtime has grown from Big and Little Knuffle and Blue to her Olivia, two small baby dolls, an Eeyore, a Winnie-the-Pooh pillow and a large Snoopy I got at the Build-a-Bear store for ME, not her (yes, we "share" which means I "own" it but she has it almost all the time). Changing the bed reminds me of Peter's vision in the Bible - a large sheet with all kinds of animals on it. Some clean, some not-so-clean. :) Let's just say it takes a bit longer with all her "friends".<br />
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Her artwork is usually freehand. Colorbooks with "borders" are passe in her world. She loves to draw freehand and do elaborate colors - very Picasso. It's a contradiction in some ways - she doesn't appear to like being limited to borders but then, creates her own borders and stays inside them. As a teen, this could be good or bad, depending on her chosen borders. There's an allegory in there somewhere I think.<br />
<br />
She has begun to take piano lessons. So far, this has consisted mainly of hand and finger exercises, learning the difference between loud (forte) and soft (piano), high notes and low notes. She has Mozart Mouse and Beethoven Bear to help - they are stars of the cute book that helps her understand this since she doesn't read yet. Her musicality called for some sort of enrichment so we decided to try this. She loves singing but I see no value in formal voice lessons until she's much older - just let her sing her heart out, listen to classical music and her beloved Laurie Berkner CDs as well as the Disneyland and Walt Disney World attractions soundtracks. If you want to teach her anything, put it into a song and retention is 98% guaranteed!<br />
<br />
Her taste in television entertainment has changed from a steady diet of "Blue's Clues" to "Olivia" and the movie "Totoro". I like Olivia - and am happy she hasn't cottoned onto the likes of Dora or Diego. Those two drive me nutty. Olivia seems more "real" (behavior and personality-wise before you point out this is about a PIG who TALKS!) She saw her first cinema movie this summer when we took her to see the new Winnie-the-Pooh movie. We have it on DVD and I'm struggling to keep it for Christmas as I want to watch it again. Must. show. restraint.<br />
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So there you have it - a Reader's Digest version of Mirai's life for the past couple of months. I'll post a photo of our pumpkin tomorrow as I'm sure you are on photo overload right now. See you anon!</div>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-14188892878036713102011-09-29T22:33:00.004-05:002011-09-29T23:15:16.235-05:00I know the (maybe) Rich and (certainly) Famous...<div>...bloggers who become book authors!</div><div><br /></div><div>First there was <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/">Ree Drummond of Pioneer Woman</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pioneer-Woman-Cooks-Recipes-Accidental/dp/0061658197/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1317354124&sr=1-1">her book</a> which quickly became my most purchased book for Christmas gifts the year it was published. Okie girl makes good on the range/ranch after marrying hunky rancher - and Oklahoma is just north of Texas so, yahoo, that's close enough for me! Then came <a href="http://homesicktexan.blogspot.com/">Lisa Fain who authors the blog Homesick Texan</a> who just <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Homesick-Texan-Cookbook-Lisa-Fain/dp/1401324266/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1317354061&sr=1-1">published her cookbook</a> - of course I lost NO time getting my copy and copies for my "nearest and dearest" because a) I'm a Texan and b) I'm inordinately proud of both Texans and their cooking abilities. Obviously, living in New York City hasn't gone to her head (or ruined her kitchen prowess). And today I read that Melanie of <a href="http://thebigmamablog.com/10612/walking-to-the-future/">Big Mama </a>has a contract for a book! ANOTHER TEXAN! This gal is Mary Tyler Moore meets Erma Bombeck. Do I know how to pick 'em or WHAT?!?</div><div><br /></div><div>Now another long time blog author favorite I've read for YEARS, Liz Owen of <a href="http://mabelshouse.blogspot.com/">Mabel's House</a>, is being published. Liz reminds me of Anne Shirley in "Anne of Green Gables". I believe she attempted writing fiction before, something along the lines of the story by Anne in "Averil's Atonement", which did not catch the publisher's eye. Someone in her life MUST have been her own real life Gilbert Blythe who gently set her down and said, "Well, if you want my opinion, I'd write about places I knew something of and people that spoke everyday English." Because she did exactly that and DING, DING, DING - I think we have a winner!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-not-Storybook-Life-Friendship/dp/076277357X">"My (not so) Storybook Life"</a> will be published in October (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-not-Storybook-Life-Friendship/dp/076277357X">I've already pre-ordered my copy!</a>) and I'm so excited I could pop a cork! She included an excerpt from her book today in her blog and I am copying it here for your reading pleasure. And I hope you'll enjoy her blog as well. If you're a female from Planet Earth, you'll find more than one chronicled situation akin to something YOU'VE experienced in life! Because that's why we read blogs, right? To know "we are not alone".<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks, Liz. And may the (book buying public) Force be with you.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><a role="ui:popup" itemprop="url" href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/my-elizabeth-owen/1102006455" options="{url:'http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/imageviewer.asp?ean=9780762773572&imId=',name:'ThumbnailImage',width:'720',height:'900',scrollbars:'yes'}" exslt="http://exslt.org/common" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(90, 125, 86); text-decoration: underline; "><img src="http://img2.imagesbn.com/images/123520000/123523668.JPG" width="185" height="251" alt="My (not so) Storybook Life: A Tale of Friendship and Faith by Elizabeth Owen: Book Cover" itemprop="photo" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(90, 125, 86); " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 32px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">***</span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); line-height: 32px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 32px; "><span style="font-size: medium; font-style: italic; ">Once one has breathed in the deep pungent aroma of sewage, you never again forget the nose-hair singeing, eye clawing, throat gagging experience. It comes over you slowly. You begin to feel like a character in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest as your muscles involuntarily jerk and you run screaming and blowing raspberries. Anything to get away from the mind-numbing stench.</span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">But let me explain.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">It was 6:30 </span></i><span style="color: black; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">a.m.</span></i></span><i><span style="font-size: medium; "> I was standing in my retro pink tiled bathroom trying to open my bleary eyes and ready myself for work. As I stood there, peering into the mirror and wondering what demented nighttime fairy had planted four new wrinkles on my face, I paused and sniffed.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">“Matt… what’s that smell?”</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">Matt staggered from the bedroom in his underwear, eyes half shut. “I don’t smell anything.”</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">I pointed my nose into the air like a hunting dog. “Seriously? You can’t smell that?</span></i><span><i><span style="font-size: medium; "> </span></i></span><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">Did you go to the bathroom in here earlier? I told you to use the room spray when you do things like that.”</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">Matt puffed out his bare chest and gathered his pride as best a man can with sleep in his eyes and a small hole in the side of his underwear. “I just woke up!”</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">I frowned, catching a glimpse of my makeup-less hot-rollers-in-hair state and tried not to think about the fact that I looked fifty instead of twenty-nine. “Well, help me figure this out. Because something smells ripe.”</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">We sniffed the sink drain and ruled it out as a suspect.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">“Is it coming from the toilet?” Matt asked, examining it from top to bottom.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">“No, that’s not it,” I snapped. I’m not known for my milk of human kindness in a disaster. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a survivor. I plan on eating my radish like Scarlet and clawing my way out of the nuclear dust while dragging my loved ones with me. But I won’t be doing it with positive phrases and a smile.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">“Hon, I just don’t know. We’ll call a plumber after work, maybe it’s coming from under the house.” Matt staggered a little, trying to get past me and out of our tiny bathroom.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">“Well, that’s just great,” I moved aside and pulled the shower curtain back so I could perch on the side of the tub and give Matt room to move out the door.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">That’s when the full brunt of nastiness filled the air around us, a swirling mix of excrement and acrid stench that would have brought the sewer dwelling Ninja Turtles to their knees. Where the normally slightly-clean-with-a-hint-of-soap-scum bottom of the tub should have been, there sloshed gallons and gallons of brown sewage.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">I clutched the front of my sweatshirt and held my breath. Matt began to dry heave.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">“Get out and shut the door!” I screamed as we bumbled into the hallway.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">“I’ll deal with this,” Matt grabbed my shoulders, trying to talk and hold his breath at the same time.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">I could feel my eyes glaze over, the horrors of typhoid and hepatitis in our bathtub filling my mind. But more importantly, I could envision our evaporated savings account.</span></i><span><i><span style="font-size: medium; "> </span></i></span><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">In my mind’s eye I could see the long, gray hallway at the bank. A worker shrouded in a black suit pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlatched a small locker labeled “Owen Bank Account.” Inside were two small stacks of quarters and a few crumpled dollar bills. It was bleak, not only because the banker with an unimaginative wardrobe gazed at me with an expression that could only be interpreted as “You’re a Big Fat Loser,” but also there was a very definite possibility we wouldn’t be able to pay for a plumber.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">I wasn’t necessarily a spend thrift. In fact, I was downright frugal when it came to decorating with thrift store furniture and rewired vintage lamps. But the fact was, we were poor. We were starting out at starter jobs with starter salaries. We were starter adults with a starter bank account.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">“Okay,” I nodded numbly, thankful that Matt was taking the lead on such a disastrous biohazard. “But make sure the plumber is super cheap. We don’t have much money!”</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 32px; "><span style="line-height: 32px; "><i><span style="font-size: medium; ">I left for work like a wino stumbling through a fog, not really remembering my commute, not really doing any work as I sipped my coffee and stared blankly at the computer screen. A disaster of such gargantuan proportions had previously been unthinkable in my life, and now I found myself attempting to push the image of a vast sea of bathtub poop from my mind. But I was sure of one thing: Anne Shirley never had to get ready for work while breathing raw sewage.</span></i></span></div></span></div></div>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-80040859193688290352011-09-09T06:00:00.000-05:002011-09-09T06:00:08.651-05:00If our home is our castle...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kdfa06FOUrs/TmmRLj3wvII/AAAAAAAAFyQ/5-uQDpmRpkA/s1600/D7K_2309%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kdfa06FOUrs/TmmRLj3wvII/AAAAAAAAFyQ/5-uQDpmRpkA/s400/D7K_2309%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650206835306708098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Mirai<br /><br /></span></div>...then let's see where the princess lives.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Let me premise this posting by saying that I'm not into the typical "Princess" mentality as currently defined by our contemporary culture. Too often, being a "Princess" means one or more of the following:<br /></div><br />"It's all about me". A huge NO-NO in my book. A TRUE princess puts others feelings and well being before her own.<br /><br />"I always get my way." This isn't being a princess - this is creating a selfish person! The child who is allowed to "pimp her cuteness" to gain what she wants is the victim of a grave injustice by her parents. What a recipe for disaster! And heaven help the parents and the next door neighbors when this kid becomes a teenager.<br /><br />"I'm better than you - or at least my mommy wants you to think so which means I'll think it too". A true princess knows humility and doesn't brag about what she has or does or where she goes. Self confidence is a totally different fish than self importance. Huge difference.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2UiMigCLWqE/TmmQqJoKcdI/AAAAAAAAFxI/pKpMwS_fwp8/s1600/D7K_2317.jpg"><br /></a><br />"I get special treatment". Again, nope. A true princess doesn't expect others to "part the waters" for her but works to get what she wants and seeks fairness whenever, wherever she can. And learns to say "Please", "Thank you", "May I.." and wants to help.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSnfWoNF6INGWsPO3Ip6a8-HjVsQn-IbgRdx6tV_pmBkM4428ZFJinqAfLA1i9rOupFEzFG7s9bi6cXz2Ovac-zut9ct5XYH6n35kGJ1FRfjarRWzc0fhCtGwFqa5-0wbklin5O7zZ5E/s1600/D7K_2289+-+Version+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSnfWoNF6INGWsPO3Ip6a8-HjVsQn-IbgRdx6tV_pmBkM4428ZFJinqAfLA1i9rOupFEzFG7s9bi6cXz2Ovac-zut9ct5XYH6n35kGJ1FRfjarRWzc0fhCtGwFqa5-0wbklin5O7zZ5E/s400/D7K_2289+-+Version+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650206831626264066" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><span style="font-size:85%;">Ben, Mirai, Kennedy and Lleyton</span><br /><br /></div>Having said that, I do believe that children who are being trained to emulate the correct values being taught by their parents are true princes and princesses. The idea that children INHERIT something of great value by those who raise them equates to being "royalty" in that wisdom, graciousness and good manners are true family treasures to be "passed down" from one generation to the next.<br /><br />Mirai is our "resident" princess. She loves to play being Princess Aurora following her Bibbity Bobbity Boutique experience at Disneyland. And she loves her books of princess stories. We've created a "Royal Bedchamber" for her where she feels cocooned and "at home". Her treasures are displayed on her note boards - notes from friends, party invitations, pieces of artwork that are "firsts" (first face drawn, first face with body, first face with eyelashes and nose - you get the picture - pardon the pun) and even several tail feathers from a macaw owned by a friend of ours.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2UiMigCLWqE/TmmQqJoKcdI/AAAAAAAAFxI/pKpMwS_fwp8/s1600/D7K_2317.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2UiMigCLWqE/TmmQqJoKcdI/AAAAAAAAFxI/pKpMwS_fwp8/s400/D7K_2317.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650206261326279122" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Lleyton, Kennedy, Emery, Ben and Mirai</span><br /><br /></div>There is a reading corner with a big reading chair with good lighting behind it - we use that chair every single night we're home to read, first, the Bible and then story books. The bookcases hold more books than toys. And her stuffed animals are replicas of her reading favorites - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Knuffle-Bunny-Cautionary-Mo-Willems/dp/0786818700/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1315544672&sr=8-1">Knuffle Bunny</a> (from the Mo Willems books), Winnie-the-Pooh and the Hundred Acre Wood gang (A.A. Milne of course), <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hit-Entertainment-Timmy-Plush-TIMMY/dp/B003VG4VIC/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1315544747&sr=1-1">Timmy</a> (from the Shaun the Sheep series; okay, technically this is a show but Timmy is loved none-the-less) to name but a few.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U0w4uYLceAM/TmmRLHlozMI/AAAAAAAAFx4/jcnX0JNhTzU/s1600/D7K_2293.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U0w4uYLceAM/TmmRLHlozMI/AAAAAAAAFx4/jcnX0JNhTzU/s400/D7K_2293.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650206827714497730" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Emery and her mama, Jennifer</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JfBBK-HkhUg/TmmQq7p6MMI/AAAAAAAAFxo/eEOOlw6Yp9g/s1600/D7K_2296.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JfBBK-HkhUg/TmmQq7p6MMI/AAAAAAAAFxo/eEOOlw6Yp9g/s400/D7K_2296.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650206274755375298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Jennifer and Emery</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoufDdU47uzHgGzhzJlaDu5Be2gmyG2RPnX7x1Wb45AFFmYvGSuxgd21O9bVZGpRyQcjwwY05B_5ewuw_K5Dd0nt2oqDR4ZeFNgUErPbi3iacIuyuFmjvPEABKGTWMZUGnenEhsEKhBWg/s1600/D7K_2316.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoufDdU47uzHgGzhzJlaDu5Be2gmyG2RPnX7x1Wb45AFFmYvGSuxgd21O9bVZGpRyQcjwwY05B_5ewuw_K5Dd0nt2oqDR4ZeFNgUErPbi3iacIuyuFmjvPEABKGTWMZUGnenEhsEKhBWg/s400/D7K_2316.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650206261080704530" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Lleyton and Mirai</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIGPX4TqYs_A3iCU3_8Fug0QJ9D7-IUR7AxOt_TU0EHsEeUWioTIrX2cDRxmJuRUOxK3DTlnqHrcWeaE0ewRXO_MLvyktP80ygahKlSn_M9OthJum3-DcYm2QUnil5aLinh0qqbeTgDjw/s1600/D7K_2303.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIGPX4TqYs_A3iCU3_8Fug0QJ9D7-IUR7AxOt_TU0EHsEeUWioTIrX2cDRxmJuRUOxK3DTlnqHrcWeaE0ewRXO_MLvyktP80ygahKlSn_M9OthJum3-DcYm2QUnil5aLinh0qqbeTgDjw/s400/D7K_2303.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650206263293664130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Emery</span><br /><br /></div>There is a mini-princess sized dressing table that Santa brought last year where she keeps her Little Kitty bangles and bracelets, her Super Power pink cape and mask and her brush and comb. A big fishbowl is the perfect holder for her hair bows - we can "fish around" to find the one we need without the bows getting flattened or wrinkles. We like our big bows and Mirai won't leave home without one. Think of it as the pre-school version of lipstick.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uouFSMZHW1I/TmmQqko7ybI/AAAAAAAAFxg/QIFXJlhy04g/s1600/D7K_2298%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uouFSMZHW1I/TmmQqko7ybI/AAAAAAAAFxg/QIFXJlhy04g/s400/D7K_2298%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650206268577270194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Emery admiring how Mommy did her hair<br /><br /></span></div>Her room is cozy enough for just her but large enough to accommodate cousins when they visit. This was borne out when we had <a href="http://mrsculater.blogspot.com/2011/09/family-plagerism.html">Cousin's Week</a> last month. All six of the grandchildren were "in residence" (no, we didn't fly our Royal Standard from the chimney to let everyone know) and Kennedy (6) shared Mirai's room with her. But during the waking hours, all six of them would be in her room playing, reading, pestering each other, plotting and having a good old time. When Emery (1) is old enough, she will also share Mirai's room during visits. The boys (Ben - 6, Luke - 4 and Lleyton - 4) all stay in the game room which is the next room and also the official "Playroom". That room contains a bunk bed as well as two love-seats that make out into twin beds. Plus the bulk of the toys!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2smBF-oGzoM/TmmRLe-5uhI/AAAAAAAAFyI/dclvrwq2sy0/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2smBF-oGzoM/TmmRLe-5uhI/AAAAAAAAFyI/dclvrwq2sy0/s400/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650206833994480146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Mirai and Lleyton having Tea with their friends<br /><br /></span></div>While some of the items in her room were bought recently (the chair and dresser), most of the furniture is several years old and was used in other rooms before they came to live in Mirai's room. The sage green toybox was bought years ago when I found out I was going to be a grandmother for the first time. The lamps on the dressing table were in a condo we owned in the DFW area for a "Texas base" when we lived overseas and visited home. Winnie-the-Pooh and all his friends were a collection I started when we lived in the UK. But all in all, the room was designed to grow with her to adulthood and I bought pieces I felt would stand the test of time. One thing I've learned living all over the world and making numerous moves: buy classic, buy quality and it will work anywhere with minor "tweaking".<br /><br />All our granddaughters are princesses in the best possible way, being raised to be kind, responsible and accountable. And all our grandsons are Brave Knights, being raised to be gallant, honest and true. I'm very honored to be the Queen Mother of this lovely family of "Great People in Training"!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i8qYHe_soUQ/TmmRV2GwVEI/AAAAAAAAFyY/I4p1hkHk1Nk/s1600/D7K_2307.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i8qYHe_soUQ/TmmRV2GwVEI/AAAAAAAAFyY/I4p1hkHk1Nk/s400/D7K_2307.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650207012000126018" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Mirai - a happy girl!<br /></span></div>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-67053258081336802622011-09-06T22:49:00.002-05:002011-09-06T23:19:08.710-05:00Ode to a New School Year<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9FLBURkHskE/Tmbq67eJGLI/AAAAAAAAFw8/7eQGX68lVNw/s1600/DSCN0047%2B-%2B2011-09-05%2Bat%2B11-53-28.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-onwcV4lVrI0/TmbjybXfNYI/AAAAAAAAFww/-N7libkhbR0/s1600/DSCN0048%2B-%2B2011-09-05%2Bat%2B11-53-43%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 338px; height: 438px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-onwcV4lVrI0/TmbjybXfNYI/AAAAAAAAFww/-N7libkhbR0/s400/DSCN0048%2B-%2B2011-09-05%2Bat%2B11-53-43%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649453238062101890" border="0" /></a><br />Today was the first day of pre-kindergarten for Mirai. And we were on time. ON TIME. This is key because I am one of those people whose ancestors came over on the Juneflower because they missed the Mayflower. I will be late to my own funeral (and it was MY idea first, regardless of what the press and Elizabeth Taylor had to do with it). But she was in her room at 9:28am this morning for a 9:30am start. And she wasn't the last one there - there was one more boy who came in after. I'm seriously surprised this wasn't on the news tonight because this is HUGE! If you doubt me, there are two teachers from last year who, for a fee, will fill you in on my world record for "most successive days late" for the 2010-11 school year. And now I suspect that, precedent having been set, they'll always expect her to be on time.<br /><br />Perhaps I didn't think this through all the way.<br /><br />But Mirai had a Grand and Glorious first day of school. She took the opportunity to tell me, not once, but several times, just how much fun school was today! And, she solemnly announced that she had ALSO gone 'tee-tee' at school. Hey, I have realistic expectations of what goals are to be met for pre-k which include:<br /><br />1) Waiting patiently in line for water fountain, playground equipment, lunch<br />2) Not eating any Crayola product nor autographing any walls, desks or clothing items<br />3) Going potty (both "big" and "small") in the appropriate restrooms<br />4) Not interrupting the teacher(s) with "You know what? (fill in the blank)" while they are attempting to impart knowledge to the class<br /><br />And if she knows how to write the entire alphabet and her numbers by the year's end, BONUS!<br /><br />Seriously, the difference between her abilities this year and last are huge. She has a much larger vocabulary and isn't shy about using it (see #4 above). She knows many of the children in her class because they were either in her class last year or attend Bible class and Bible Hour with her now (or both!) She has more confidence in herself and is very social and outgoing. And she's pretty much potty-trained now (okay, working on Big Potty, but we're on it...yes, this blog may have Too Much Information but get over it).<br /><br />After I picked her up from school, we celebrated by going to Dairy Queen (yes! they still have one here in Katy) and got ice cream which is a big treat. She insisted on having her backpack on her lap on the drive home, took out her 'take-home folder' and proceeded to 'read' the papers inside. It was obvious to me that this was Important Big Stuff. I told her to just be sure and keep it all together so I could read it too when we got home.<br /><br />I'm finding her tastes in literature have broadened greatly. We've graduated from Knuffle Bunny (although Big Knuffle and Baby Knuffle are still bedtime companions along with Blue and Eeyore) to the volumes by A.A. Milne and the Glorious tales of Winnie-the-Pooh. She also wants princess stories now that we've returned from Disneyland and the-oh-too-numerous-to-count rides through The Little Mermaid in the California Adventure. It helps that moi is able to mimic the voices from the movie (I do a mean Ursula and can do the singing of Ariel - hey, don't hate me; it's a talent!) And she's starting to do Bible story 'requests'. We have a children's Bible that we've read out of "like forever", having gone in order the first couple of times through and now try to reinforce whatever is being taught on Wed and Sun Bible class by reading those stories. Tonight I picked it up and started to read and she put her hand on it and said, "I think I want...<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Moses </span>tonight". Bible On Demand - got one over on you, Comcast! :)<br /><br />The combination of first days and cooler weather puts me in a fine mood. One that recalls Pumpkin Spice Lattes and zucchini bread. One that sends me to the Home Goods store looking for Halloween decorations (and finding them - oh, did I ever find them...) Even gets me thinking about perhaps cleaning out closets and Christmas decorating. Okay, I squelched the "cleaning out closets" idea pretty quickly. And the 'cooler temp' was mid-80's. But when you've lived through triple-digit temps for the I-don't-remember-how-many-months summer, mid-80's is almost arctic in comparison.<br /><br />So here's to the New School Year. Here's to new backpacks and lunchboxes. To the smell of new Crayons. To new clothes and matching hair bows. To "Look, Gramma, I did it <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">all by myself!</span>" artwork. To leaps and bounds of learning. To the teachers who make the Magic for the children.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9FLBURkHskE/Tmbq67eJGLI/AAAAAAAAFw8/7eQGX68lVNw/s1600/DSCN0047%2B-%2B2011-09-05%2Bat%2B11-53-28.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9FLBURkHskE/Tmbq67eJGLI/AAAAAAAAFw8/7eQGX68lVNw/s400/DSCN0047%2B-%2B2011-09-05%2Bat%2B11-53-28.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649461080700295346" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And, lest we forget, to a few hours to get much-needed-maintenance (read "mani-pedi" here), browsing the shops a little and regaining a little sanity.<br /><br />Because frankly, if you're gonna be late, you might as well look as good as you can doing it!Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-434424684824996302011-09-03T12:20:00.009-05:002011-09-03T14:31:29.795-05:00Family plagiarism...<div class="fauxcolumn-inner"> </div> <div class="cap-bottom"> <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">
<br /></span></span> </div><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><div class="post-header"> </div> ...is what you resort to when you keep meaning to blog about something but never get to it. Megan took the photos and posted the following on HER blog today. Cousin's Week is something we've done for many years. The house is full of laughter, screaming, whining, tattling, cuddling, secret telling, whisperings at bedtime...you know, all the wonderful chaos that ensues when you put six children, aged six and younger, under the same roof for any length of time! :)
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<br />One of my favorite memories was swimming the first night. Tim and Megan's family and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Mirai</span> and I had just returned from Disneyland and our California vacation just the Monday before. We were swimming that first night and it got dark so I turned on the lights to the pool and spa which I've rarely done before as we don't usually swim after dark. I have several pool toys including small water cannons. Megan and I were in the big pool and the kids were entranced by the LED lights that cycle to different colors in the spa. All of the sudden Megan says, "Cheri!! Look at the kids!!!" They were in the spa, using the water cannons to make water designs in the air and singing, "The World of Color" from our recent California Adventure "World of Color" show! I wish we'd had video to capture it!
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<br />The scorching temps here in Texas also provided challenges to our usual trips to playgrounds or other outside activities so we became more creative with indoor spaces and pool use. We achieved the goal of multiple fun activities by going to:
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<br />-- Stomping Grounds in Sugar Land (an indoor "agility course" for kids with a cafe and tables for the mom-ladies)
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<br />-- Build-a-Bear where we "built" everything except a bear! I believe we had two cats and four dogs, multiple outfits and accessories
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<br />-- <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">In house</span> "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">incarceration</span>" upstairs with a babysitter for the six (and a brave Amanda who kept them all in line and managed to keep the house intact as well!) while the mamas went to see "The Help" movie
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<br />-- Lupe Tortillas who wins the 'kid friendly premises' award for having large fans on their patios so we could sit outside to eat while the kids played in the massive and well-stocked sandbox playground
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<br />-- Marble Slab Creamery where we attempted to get everyone ice cream and have them eat it before it totally melted - limited success but great fun none-the-less
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<br />-- Swimming every single day (except Sunday). And with it being so hot, we "assembly lined" showers for all the kids afterwards outside on the patio. Really made the bathing process very streamlined and convenient!
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<br />-- Aqua-toys on the back patio - canals, waterfalls, water pumps, great fun with the different configurations
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<br />We ate out a lot and got in a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Gymboree</span> shopping spree for the moms as well. It was an exhausting week for the adults but oh, OH, so much fun for everyone!
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<br />The remainder of this post is written by Megan who also took all the fantastic photos!
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<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4b2Y-b9B2o4/Tl_0xaSFCvI/AAAAAAAATOg/usffJJ8PLdc/s1600/2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 419px; height: 277px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4b2Y-b9B2o4/Tl_0xaSFCvI/AAAAAAAATOg/usffJJ8PLdc/s640/2.jpg" border="0" /></a></div> Cousin week in Katy was extra special this year because ALL 6 of the cousins got to be there. We had two 6 year <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">olds</span>, three 4 year <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">olds</span>, one 1 year old, 2 Mommas and 1 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Gramma</span> or should I say <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">GrandMomma</span>. :) It was a full, loud, and chaotic house and the kids loved it.
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<br /><span style="font-size:large;">There was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">alot</span> of this...</span>
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<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div>
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3IqMLqinksM/Tl_3pgH2Z0I/AAAAAAAATRM/CNQj-HKp4K8/s1600/D7K_2500.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 309px; height: 467px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3IqMLqinksM/Tl_3pgH2Z0I/AAAAAAAATRM/CNQj-HKp4K8/s640/D7K_2500.JPG" border="0" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wqI90ytdFWQ/Tl_4FtyilYI/AAAAAAAATRk/8PArAotQ5Fg/s1600/D7K_2552.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 298px; height: 449px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wqI90ytdFWQ/Tl_4FtyilYI/AAAAAAAATRk/8PArAotQ5Fg/s640/D7K_2552.JPG" border="0" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_8C47wSRVs0/Tl_1lPLbKlI/AAAAAAAATPE/OLebdzq7JcI/s1600/13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 307px; height: 462px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_8C47wSRVs0/Tl_1lPLbKlI/AAAAAAAATPE/OLebdzq7JcI/s640/13.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size:large;">a little bit of this...</span></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GgnfeGOl94k/Tl_3XOABrvI/AAAAAAAATQ8/OHooOIXXmSI/s1600/D7K_2452.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 313px; height: 206px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GgnfeGOl94k/Tl_3XOABrvI/AAAAAAAATQ8/OHooOIXXmSI/s640/D7K_2452.JPG" border="0" /></a></div> <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size:large;">a little bit of that...</span></div> <div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yk1UC6oOEp4/Tl_4K-gncoI/AAAAAAAATRw/30FjfIcjN68/s1600/D7K_2560.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 240px; height: 363px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yk1UC6oOEp4/Tl_4K-gncoI/AAAAAAAATRw/30FjfIcjN68/s320/D7K_2560.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n3fzmE0Uwu0/Tl_3ooISGsI/AAAAAAAATRI/HCnnTZn0GLU/s1600/D7K_2489.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 242px; height: 366px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n3fzmE0Uwu0/Tl_3ooISGsI/AAAAAAAATRI/HCnnTZn0GLU/s320/D7K_2489.JPG" border="0" /></a></div> <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size:large;">Some of this...
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<br /></span></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size:large;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ddq68mLu7IQ/Tl_1oMA0Z9I/AAAAAAAATPM/nHVd8pKabCw/s1600/12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 354px; height: 234px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ddq68mLu7IQ/Tl_1oMA0Z9I/AAAAAAAATPM/nHVd8pKabCw/s640/12.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div> <div style="text-align: center;">
<br /><span style="font-size:large;">A few of these...
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<br /></span></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YUuLGBBTTB4/Tl_36UAfiTI/AAAAAAAATRc/B4pPLkFeeQ4/s1600/D7K_2523.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 352px; height: 232px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YUuLGBBTTB4/Tl_36UAfiTI/AAAAAAAATRc/B4pPLkFeeQ4/s640/D7K_2523.JPG" border="0" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJMVgSjfTNQ/Tl_4FzmzuUI/AAAAAAAATRo/f-Ni2zZUpk8/s1600/D7K_2549.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 367px; height: 553px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJMVgSjfTNQ/Tl_4FzmzuUI/AAAAAAAATRo/f-Ni2zZUpk8/s640/D7K_2549.JPG" border="0" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ogp7AfbRsg/Tl_3S40vE2I/AAAAAAAATQ0/nTvHrn1TvQ8/s1600/D7K_2437.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 378px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ogp7AfbRsg/Tl_3S40vE2I/AAAAAAAATQ0/nTvHrn1TvQ8/s640/D7K_2437.JPG" border="0" /></a></div>
<br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size:large;">But mostly these...</span></div> <div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jesV4TDngis/Tl_3ez81yeI/AAAAAAAATRE/9cT_SwYo_OU/s1600/D7K_2486.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 391px; height: 259px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jesV4TDngis/Tl_3ez81yeI/AAAAAAAATRE/9cT_SwYo_OU/s640/D7K_2486.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9zGt7U2jpH8/Tl_09HmFN-I/AAAAAAAATOo/oVidyT2NIYw/s1600/5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 391px; height: 260px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9zGt7U2jpH8/Tl_09HmFN-I/AAAAAAAATOo/oVidyT2NIYw/s640/5.jpg" border="0" /></a></div> <div style="border-width: medium; border-style: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--hZclQISDIg/Tl_33cxNHsI/AAAAAAAATRY/dvmuV9mD5Vo/s1600/D7K_2517.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 391px; height: 259px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--hZclQISDIg/Tl_33cxNHsI/AAAAAAAATRY/dvmuV9mD5Vo/s640/D7K_2517.JPG" border="0" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W-VlIRD0JFk/Tl_1M_vr1PI/AAAAAAAATO0/HABm3u-O6RE/s1600/8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 321px; height: 485px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W-VlIRD0JFk/Tl_1M_vr1PI/AAAAAAAATO0/HABm3u-O6RE/s640/8.jpg" border="0" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bulS7cy0E84/Tl_0uhJ-V2I/AAAAAAAATOY/yZUnocQKCbA/s1600/3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 436px; height: 289px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bulS7cy0E84/Tl_0uhJ-V2I/AAAAAAAATOY/yZUnocQKCbA/s640/3.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-49692235765328240412011-07-28T12:01:00.003-05:002011-07-28T13:12:33.246-05:00Farewell, Shelby...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pht92LIVYSE/TjDQSrsAPyI/AAAAAAAAFvY/g9Ef53ZmIrs/s1600/P0000096.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVf-17m6WVuj0HePp2e4lbuDj1sdEjOd_YCqRkK_wAM2t-C22n4wG-VkOBN7AL4Z90LcLpg6u7IaaACWxQDrpq7a3XqY4mrzn9RKPEaaFbC9YbIQT3OMnt50dusWZskA9i3DlZ0Y0Q_PA/s1600/PICT0206.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVf-17m6WVuj0HePp2e4lbuDj1sdEjOd_YCqRkK_wAM2t-C22n4wG-VkOBN7AL4Z90LcLpg6u7IaaACWxQDrpq7a3XqY4mrzn9RKPEaaFbC9YbIQT3OMnt50dusWZskA9i3DlZ0Y0Q_PA/s400/PICT0206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634232144182200850" border="0" /></a><br />...I hope all dogs go do heaven. You were a good dog and you will be missed sorely. From the moment we brought you home as an 11 week old pup, you won over our hearts (and won 'intelligence points' from Mike who was shocked to find you as an addition to our family when he came back from on overseas trip - "Surprise!")<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VyBy8af0vUE/TjDYk-URe3I/AAAAAAAAFv8/NipQgp4wMj8/s1600/DSC_0161.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VyBy8af0vUE/TjDYk-URe3I/AAAAAAAAFv8/NipQgp4wMj8/s400/DSC_0161.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634241263555410802" border="0" /></a><br />You were in quarantine in Trinidad at the young age of seven months and "served your time" well. I joked that, since Shelby was up to date on her rabies shots, couldn't we put the boys (then teenagers) in quarantine and the dog come home with us? They were not amused - neither the boys or the "Powers That Be" in Animal Control.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bfwHp1yRq7M/TjDYlNcUSqI/AAAAAAAAFwE/KT3g1N_CClA/s1600/P0000106.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bfwHp1yRq7M/TjDYlNcUSqI/AAAAAAAAFwE/KT3g1N_CClA/s400/P0000106.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634241267615681186" border="0" /></a><br />You gained a following in Trinidad - especially with the Kramer's. Colleen would keep you often when we went to Texas and they treated you like royalty. You patrolled the grounds like one of the guards that were always outside our homes there. You had an innate desire to protect those whom you loved. You loved staying with the Littlefield's as well when we were in Port of Spain. You and Darcy, their Westie, were great pals. And you loved having young children to pay with in Joey and Kelsey. And Edie let you sleep at the foot of their bed, just like at home.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OdD5nHLhqKo/TjDYkOmPchI/AAAAAAAAFvs/U6niMZ0hNOs/s1600/300000-R1-3_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OdD5nHLhqKo/TjDYkOmPchI/AAAAAAAAFvs/U6niMZ0hNOs/s400/300000-R1-3_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634241250745872914" border="0" /></a><br />Three and a-half years later, you flew again across the Atlantic to England, where, once again you entered quarantine for six months. This was before the Pet Passport Program. You and Patches, the Bryant's Cavalier, stayed in the same kennel, and Cynthia and I would come out together to spend time petting you, telling you what a good girl you were and "it won't be much longer". I do admit you wormed your way into the heart of the owner as you got preferential treatment - they were quite sad to see you go. But we'd board there so they got to spoil you again. Once, when you were very sick, one of the quarantine attendants took several buses at night to come and sit with you and feed you boiled chicken and pasta and make sure it stayed down because he was so worried about you. That was love.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW92WUWjm6hBp20R29kjHGHO2S8mZmeAQWaYaTZAR4UJS9QLufEWAVp2UP4ZNT_7H4C7oBa0c2RRB4pAsHdpwvMU7o30PN-MBlGrCirm6DiU8hWSoudxIoIbVISniA8y9dx1M5FN3-Pp0/s1600/PICT0205.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW92WUWjm6hBp20R29kjHGHO2S8mZmeAQWaYaTZAR4UJS9QLufEWAVp2UP4ZNT_7H4C7oBa0c2RRB4pAsHdpwvMU7o30PN-MBlGrCirm6DiU8hWSoudxIoIbVISniA8y9dx1M5FN3-Pp0/s400/PICT0205.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634232158061253298" border="0" /></a><br />Once home, you thoroughly enjoyed having a HUGE yard to romp and play in. You'd "point" when the occasional deer or fox would race through the yard and bark to be let out. Everybody loved you (except perhaps the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bryant's</span> one time when they kept you and you barked, and barked and barked again every time someone came to the door...you wore out your welcome that time, tootsie!) But you "liberated" Patches from the utility room where she slept since you slept at the foot of the bed! I believe Whitney felt it wasn't fair that Shelby got to sleep with her or Paige but Patches had to sleep downstairs - alone.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LeXOV6tgWT0/TjDYlhxqzwI/AAAAAAAAFwM/z6Diam7UDxk/s1600/_DSC0240.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LeXOV6tgWT0/TjDYlhxqzwI/AAAAAAAAFwM/z6Diam7UDxk/s400/_DSC0240.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634241273073946370" border="0" /></a><br />You got your Pet Passport a couple of years later and traveled back and forth between the UK and Texas until you developed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pancreatitis</span> and your globe-trotting days were over. You lived alternately with Jennifer's family and then Tim's the months until we repatriate to Texas and could have you live with us again. You took in it your usual stride.<br /><br />Even where you boarded, Waggin' Tails, you quickly became the "Teacher's Pet" with Denise taking you with her when she ran errands - you have been to the Fulshear Post Office but I've never been! You were even in the Houston Chronicle when they ran a feature article about the kennel - you were one of four "guests" photographed with Denise. She's going to miss you something fierce too.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MX3pPAnu0KE/TjDYkjLO3eI/AAAAAAAAFv0/bowPflXoyy4/s1600/DSC_0134.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MX3pPAnu0KE/TjDYkjLO3eI/AAAAAAAAFv0/bowPflXoyy4/s400/DSC_0134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634241256269733346" border="0" /></a><br /><br />You were a quick learner with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">house training</span>. You loved to play with squeaky toys as long as they had plush on them! You loved playing tug-of-war with toys. And you were my shadow. You barked away strangers when I was alone in England and "Daddy" was in Africa. You scared off street vagrants in Trinidad where dogs are bred for security. Even though you weren't, you had a bark that meant business! But those you loved, you loved with an unselfish devotion.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OyWDL2RMBVU/TjDQSeSFzmI/AAAAAAAAFvQ/XPbbNMaUUUQ/s1600/P0000102.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OyWDL2RMBVU/TjDQSeSFzmI/AAAAAAAAFvQ/XPbbNMaUUUQ/s400/P0000102.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634232149625654882" border="0" /></a><br />We will miss you, Shelby. You were the dog we got when the kids still lived at home. You were the dog who made it 15-1/2 years in our household despite quarantines, moves, different homes, different vets, different continents. You were a good Expat dog. You were my companion when "Daddy" was away on business trips. You were the dog who met every grandchild and endeared yourself to them as you allowed them to play with you (sometimes not very gently either) and put up with pulled ears, fierce hugs and sloppy kisses. You were our fourth, albeit hirsute, child.<br /><br />Rest in peace, dear one. And know you were loved.<br /><br />And I do hope "All Good Dogs go to Heaven"...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pht92LIVYSE/TjDQSrsAPyI/AAAAAAAAFvY/g9Ef53ZmIrs/s1600/P0000096.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pht92LIVYSE/TjDQSrsAPyI/AAAAAAAAFvY/g9Ef53ZmIrs/s400/P0000096.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634232153224003362" border="0" /></a><br />Shelbourne Lynne Drennon (aka Shelby)<br />1996-2011<br /></div>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-2525780704517601692011-07-25T11:03:00.003-05:002011-07-25T12:16:49.689-05:00Tell me it ain't so!<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.designpublic.com/shop/graham-and-brown/15283#tabs" class="gallery-image-link" rel="http://arcsmedia01.s3.amazonaws.com/catalog/product/cache/2/image/550x550/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/1/8/18574_Primary.jpg"> <img id="mainImage" src="http://arcsmedia01.s3.amazonaws.com/catalog/product/cache/2/image/330x330/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/1/8/18574_Primary.jpg" alt="Graham and Brown Eco Collection Aspen Wallpaper - in Ochre" title="Graham and Brown Eco Collection Aspen Wallpaper - in Ochre" height="330" width="330" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: left;"> I swear I think I've seen this wallpaper before (and I can hear in my mind my mom saying, "Cheri! Don't swear!") I believe it was in the downstairs bathroom of the house we bought in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Naperville</span>, Illinois, back in 1981. I was pregnant up to my eyeballs when we transferred from Houston to Chicago for Mike's job. I was six weeks away from delivery and there I was, perched precariously on a ladder, removing a wallpaper very similar to this in that bathroom right after we'd closed on the house. Everything about it screamed "SEVENTIES!!" in loud, punctuated, tenacious tones. Metallic gold accents...shudder!<br /><br />So when I saw this online today - ON SALE for $59.95 per roll down from $89.95 - I was aghast! There are just some historical (and I use that term loosely since it was only 30 years ago - that makes it more "vintage" than historical) trends that do not bear repeating. They should be buried and forgotten.<br /><br />But I am sure there are others who beg to differ. And most of those others, I'd wager (and NOW I can here my mom saying, "Cheri! Don't gamble!") are in their 20's and 30's, passionately in love with all things '70s. I say that because there are so many people who have embraced "mid-century" furniture. the stuff I grew up with - in the '60s because it was hand-me-downs that my folks had been able to procure on their lean budget. Blond woods, sharp edges, lots of aluminum banding (I'm thinking of our kitchen table now), Formica laminate tops (tables, counters, bathrooms), modular looking upholstered pieces. My mom hates it to this day - and so do I frankly. I'm not sure why exactly but it wasn't "comforting" design and we both crave an environment that says, "Come in, sit down, put your feet up, be comfortable". And most of our 50s stuff was the antithesis of that.<br /><br />To each his own. And ones interiors should speak to them personally. Which is why, when I saw this, it said to me, "Na-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">na</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">nanana</span>!" And I shuddered.<br /><br />I don't like being taunted by wallpaper.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"></span><br /></div></div><span class="notice"></span>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-27759603149911862782011-07-23T13:06:00.005-05:002011-07-23T14:43:00.559-05:00Remember the Quilt Giveaway!Okay, maybe not so impressive/important as "Remember the Alamo!" but, if you win, <a href="http://www.mytworedshoes.com/2011/07/cozy-quilt-to-good-home-giveaway.html">you WILL get this gorgeous quilt</a>, made by my friend Sherri. Those of you who were overseas in Trinidad and England with us (Amoco/BP days) probably even know her. All those years I knew her, working to make a better international school, breaking leases on bad properties, collecting Polish Pottery, drinking Starbucks at Sainsbury's, keeping each other sane - I never knew her secret talent! Only in the last year or so do I discover, after we moved to different parts of the globe, that the woman has mad sewing skills! (or is that "skilz"? Nope, I'm too old for that...) <a href="http://www.mytworedshoes.com/2011/07/cozy-quilt-to-good-home-giveaway.html">Anyway, go to her daughter's blog and be sure to leave a comment as your entry.</a><br /><br /><center><img src="http://photos.smugmug.com/photos/i-9JPNxPT/0/550x300/i-9JPNxPT-550x300.jpg" /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Now, on to MY news! (Drumroll please...) Without help from me or copying it from already being written, Mirai can write her name!! I gave her a card yesterday that came in an order I'd received, thinking she would like to color it. I was working in the study a short time later when she says, "Gramma, look what I did!" And this is what I saw:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rNuePJfGPWU/TisO1E-WTnI/AAAAAAAAFuw/tWOFi76DDDE/s1600/2011.07.22.Mirai.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 367px; height: 492px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rNuePJfGPWU/TisO1E-WTnI/AAAAAAAAFuw/tWOFi76DDDE/s400/2011.07.22.Mirai.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632612063988043378" border="0" /></a>And she not only wrote it once but TWICE (and a cute picture to go with it)! Okay, so we need to work on "lower case" vs "upper case". Should I get the university apps ready? Probably premature, but I'm so pleased just the same. And I love how her pictures of people always have a nose and big SMILES on their faces! She starts pre-kindergarten in September with three days a week instead of the two last year. I can tell her brain is really clicking as she thinks things through now. She'll get this furrow in her brow, look away into the distance for a minute in concentration, then her face clears, she makes eye contact and, with a big old smile on her face, she imparts her new knowledge to you! Big doin's happening this year, folks; BIG doin's.<br /><br />Meanwhile, I'm working on my "preschoolers wardrobe" acquisition addiction. More on that in another blog. Let's just say a girl can never have too many shoes (or the outfits to go with them) or hair bows, right?<br /><br />RIGHT?? (insert validation here)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></center>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-42623066538067260572011-07-22T09:58:00.003-05:002011-07-22T10:12:37.013-05:00A quilt giveaway!A dear friend of mine from our overseas days, Sherri, quilts like nobody's business. I have several of her creations and I like to call their style "Contemporary Classic" as they are contemporary colors and fabric prints but traditional style blocking and composition. She uses only high quality long-staple cotton fabrics. I own, let's see - 4 baby, 1 twin and 1 throw quilt plus a toddler sized bed quilt that she's made and sold on Etsy.<br /><br />Well, (drum roll please!) THIS weekend, she is giving one away through her daughter's blog, <a href="http://www.mytworedshoes.com/2011/07/cozy-quilt-to-good-home-giveaway.html">"My Two Red Shoes"</a>. And it's a BEAUT! Lavender, blues and soft greens. If it were mine, I'd be tempted to call it Lavender Blue (Dilly Dilly) but, knowing Sherri, she's probably already named it and will have a sewn in embroidered tag with the name on it.<br /><br /><center><img src="http://photos.smugmug.com/photos/i-9JPNxPT/0/550x300/i-9JPNxPT-550x300.jpg" /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">You can read the entry rules on <a href="http://www.mytworedshoes.com/2011/07/cozy-quilt-to-good-home-giveaway.html">Kathleen's blog</a> but basically, you can enter once a day from today through Sunday plus a bonus entry if you mention the giveaway in YOUR blog, referencing it back to her and leaving a comment with a link to YOUR blog!<br /><br /><center><img src="http://www.smugmug.com/photos/i-bQKNf5f/0/500x300/i-bQKNf5f-500x300.jpg" /></center><br /><br />I'm trying not to covet this but it's hard - this is a DILLY of a quilt and my wishing vibes are going all out right now! On second thought, maybe you SHOULDN'T enter as that leaves more chances for me! Nope, you gotta enter and tell your blog friends about it. I can attest to the supreme quality of this quilt - they wash up beautifully in the washer and dryer (I've never had shrinkage issues) and they end up very soft and "drape-y" (I hate a stiff quilt that doesn't mold to you when under it - these are GREAT "drapers").<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mytworedshoes.com/2011/07/cozy-quilt-to-good-home-giveaway.html">Well, what are waiting around here for? Go ENTER!</a><br /><br />Thank you. That is all.<br /></div></center>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-63191855996259122382011-06-10T13:41:00.003-05:002011-06-10T14:37:50.195-05:00In which I learn a lesson about pork chops......and relationships.<br /><br />I (occasionally) blog and enjoy reading blogs. My yardstick for "blog consideration" in my must-read list measures content by several criteria. I love Texas bloggers for one - pride of State and South. I love food bloggers - love of belly? Perhaps. :) I love bloggers who "keep it real", journal-ing their observations on life and their interactions within their own lives, not embellishing it for pride purposes, laying out their truths warts and all - especially young mother bloggers who are navigating the rivers of their life and attempting to circumvent the dangerous undertows which threaten to pull them under at times. There is a sense of community withing the blogosphere - a combination of "been there-done that" and "oh, WOW!" that I find appealing. And, as a "back from retirement" full time caregiver to one of our grandchildren, reaching out and being reached creates a sense of "I am not alone".<br /><br />Yes, I do "have a life" lest you think I am an online lurker, seeking validation in a world of strangers whose moral fiber I know not of. :) But I believe there is value in blogging and reading blogs - nuggets of wisdom to squirrel away, loud signals of "WARNING!" when digesting the unfortunate consequences detailed, and a lifting of spirits when victories and/or hilarious happenings are sometimes regaled.<br /><br />One of the blogs I follow in <a href="http://www.google.com/reader">Google Reader</a> had a great nugget today. I am taking the liberty of quoting from her post today. The blog is called <a href="http://homesicktexan.blogspot.com/">Homesick Texan</a>, written by Liz, and I've been a reader for several years now. I find this blog engaging on two levels - the aforementioned "Pride of State" (she's from Texas although living in New York) and "love of belly" (lots of recipes, true Texan recipes - often with a new twist). Having lived overseas many years while hailing from the Great State of Texas, I completely understand what it is like to live somewhere besides Texas yet attempt to find the ingredients to recreate the dishes I love and crave so much. I believe her blog was born of a desire to find/recreate/educate herself (and thus her readers) to that end. And, I am happy to report, she is in the process of writing her own cookbook and has a publisher lined up! (Liz writes, "And I'm excited to announce that The Homesick Texan Cookbook will be published by Hyperion in September 2011.") Guess who will be ordering copies for Christmas gifts this year?<br /><br />Now that the introductions have been made, I (finally) come to the point of MY post today. Her recent post had a title involving pork chops. Not being a big pork fan, I almost skipped reading it. But the first paragraph, <a href="http://homesicktexan.blogspot.com/2011/06/pork-chops-jalapeno-beer-brined.html">the very first sentence</a>, intrigued me. "'Are you familiar with the pork chop theory?' asked food writer Virginia Willis." Hm, a pork chop theory? Okay, I'll bite (no pun intended, believe it or not).<br /><br />Reading to the end, I got to the last paragraph where she elaborates and shares this wonderful truth:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;" id="fullpost">"</span><span style="font-style: italic;" id="fullpost">Willis, a veteran author, was giving me tips about what to expect when my book is published, emphasizing how all authors can help each other. To illustrate her point, she quoted Nathalie Dupree who came up with the pork chop premise."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;" id="fullpost">"According to Dupree, if you cook one pork chop in a pan on high heat it will burn. But if you cook two pork chops in a pan, the chops will cook evenly as each chop’s fat will feed the other. As Willis has written, “It’s the ultimate in giving, sharing, and developing mutually beneficial partnerships and relationships. It’s not about competition, it’s about sharing the fat, sharing the love.”</span><br /><br />So, pork chops aside, this "universal truth" is one that really spoke to me! Trying to do big tasks "on my own", whether for pride, reluctance to ask for assistance or just plain old stubbornness, have often resulted in my "being burned". But having a team, sharing the load - as well as sharing the credit - almost always ends in a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie. The Bible speaks of this as well when it says, "Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor." (Eccl. 4:9) But how often I forget this as I strive and yet do not succeed. I have often been the author of my own discontent by insisting on either doing it MY way, doing it alone or, worse, wearing the sackcloth and ashes of the "Woe is me!" personae that infers that she has it rough, "it's tough to be me" and becomes hostile to (dare I say) my husband for not reading my mind. Judge Judy would have a hey day with me on those days.<br /><br />Anyway, that's my two-cents for the day. My "nugget of wisdom" to share. Take it for what it's worth. And I hope you'll meander over to Liz's blog, <a href="http://homesicktexan.blogspot.com/">Homesick Texan</a>, and enjoy the photos, recipes and insights she shares.<br /><br />I still don't like pork chops. But I do like universal truths. Food for thought, the best meal of all?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-74582702505964318242011-05-25T14:59:00.004-05:002011-05-25T16:03:58.562-05:00In which both Lleyton and Timothy have birthdays......and I didn't even mention it. Actually, there have been LOTS of birthdays and in my "I'll get to it later after all a blog is for life, not just for Christmas" stupor, I rationalized I'd get it done sooner or later.<br /><br />Welcome to "later". I swear, I'll be late to my own funeral. And no, I didn't get that idea from Liz Taylor. I had it first and if she was alive, I'd take her to task for getting the credit for the idea. At least I'M married to my FIRST husband.<br /><br />So, missed birthdays include:<br /><br />My mom. On tax day. Which is an easy way to remember it, except for THIS year when, for some reason, tax deadline was the 18th instead of the 15th. But I more than made up for it with several days of surprises, pieces of coconut cream pie and eating out. So either I'm good for the next few years or maybe, just maybe, I've made up for the past. Only my hairdresser knows for sure. And she ain't telling. (I'm a GREAT tipper!)<br /><br />Timothy. 30 years old on 5/15. He's finally "all growed up!" Actually, he's been grown up for some time but between turning 30 and the realization that my middle child is NOW THIRTY, the fact hit me smack on the head. He's like a fine, sharp cheddar - mellow with a nice bite, best at room temperature and goes with a LOT of good things.<br /><br />Jenjer. 28 years old on 5/17. Probably a strange birthday for her since it's the first "single" birthday in many years and Mirai is down here. She'll get to see her soon when we go down for a long weekend soon. Two years from thirty - or should I say, ONE year from her FIRST 29th birthday??<br /><br />Lleyton. 4 years old on 4/30. We had intended to join the entire Tim Drennon clan at the San Antonio Zoo on his birthday but some family medical emergencies with Mike's mom came up and we headed north instead of west that weekend. We did get to San Antonio in time to meet at Pei Wei and have dinner and present our gifts to him so not all was lost. But I hate that we missed it. As a rule, I have tried religiously to be present at every single grandchild's birthday for as long as I can (and they'll let me and not roll their eyes - those days be comin' soon!) so missing the bulk of this one was an "ouchy".<br /><br />Kati. My sister, on 4/26. Now, she lives in Canada. And I've lived (insert name of one of 12 different locations throughout the world the past 34 years since I left Lubbock) so it's obvious we don't see each other very often. But, as we get older, more and more I remember our childhood days, when we all lived in Lubbock, and wish we could see each other more often. I'll protect her dignity by NOT saying what her age is or that she is older than me by two years and that my age has been previously mentioned in other blog posts (as well as listed below). I have standards, you know.<br /><br />Luke. His birthday is tomorrow. He will be four. The Class of 07 is turning 4 right now. First Lleyton, then Luke. Mirai will round out the trio on 7/2 with her birthday. We won't get to see him on his actual day but will be able to go to his party on another day. He's our not-so-little future quarterback/soccer player/fill-in-the-name sports enthusiast. He's built for sports. He's a natural. And I may finally have to learn the rules of some of those games if I'm going to keep up.<br /><br />And then there was MY birthday back in March. March 12th. Put it on your calendars folks so you will know it's time to humiliate me, send me cards about how old I am and generally make me glad when it's over. I turned 54. I am not afraid of the number. It's just a number. Like my weight. Oh wait, I AM afraid of THAT number...<br /><br />But it was a greater birthday in that all my children and grands and Mike were up in Keller to help me celebrate, complete with a big dinner out and a cake with a few token candles (didn't want to break any fire codes in a public place you know). Mike actually. did. shopping. On his own. Without any input. At a DAVID YURMAN STORE!! After I came to, I thanked him profusely in the hopes of giving positive reinforcement since I've heard that THAT can cause a person to repeat a desired behavior. Yes, putting those great parenting skills to work in my marriage as well! Not that I'm treating Mike like a child - far from it! I'm treating him like a responsible adult who GOES TO A DAVID YURMAN STORE TO BUY BIRTHDAY GIFTS ON HIS OWN!! That's all.<br /><br />So enough of the fun and frivolity in our household. After a drought of no writing, the keys are fairly flying with two posts on one day. Anymore and my computer might start smoking or something (finally got it off drugs...) so I won't push my luck.<br /><br />Take care peeps and I'll see if I can do another post before another month has passed. I can't very well get onto people whose blogs I read to keep posting if I'm not willing to share too. The blogger's mantra: "I'll post mine if you'll post yours".<br /><br />I can hear my mom sighing...Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-46331345096768730422011-05-25T14:39:00.002-05:002011-05-25T14:59:27.382-05:00Untitled...but still the dot, dot, dot...Noticed it's been a month and a day since my last post. This could be for one of two reasons: (1) either nothing is going on her or (2) there is SO MUCH going on that I don't have a) time, b) energy, c) brain power and d) enough hours in the day to check in and update.<br /><br />I'll go with Option 2. Doing otherwise would make me sound like a total loser and a lazy slob. Must salvage what little reputation I still have.<br /><br />So, we have been in Katy an unprecedented eight, count 'em, E-I-G-H-T weeks! Mike had one trip (a shorty - one week) during that time and one blessedly cancelled trip. I'm in my own personal Nirvana. I had decided to stay home the month of May anyway so Mirai could be present for all the remaining days of school. We almost achieved that - we missed the LAST most FUNNEST day of school (Splash Party! Treats!! Seeing friends before the summer!!!) - thanks, strep. Yup, the girl woke up the day before the last school day with a 103 temp UNDER HER ARM. Now, if I was a first time mommy instead of a 54 "back in the trenches-mighty experienced-not prone to hysterics unless a flying roach is involved" (grand)mom, I would have made haste to my local ER and demanded immediate attention. But I dosed her with Motrin and patted myself on the back for my calm, cool, collected, informed approach to fevers in a three year old. She didn't want to eat but she did drink - a lot. By afternoon, when two doses of Motrin hadn't even dented the fever, I decided a trip to the pediatrician was in order - just to be on the safe side. They had an appointment (yeah!) and we got in the car.<br /><br />By the time we got there, she was pretty listless and wanted me to hold her. This has never happened at the doctor. Even they noticed it and got her in right away. Tests for flu and strep were done in short order with strep being the culprit. So a Tylenol/Motrin rotation, every 3 hours, started once we got home (after a massive, hair-curling-scream-induced penicillin shot was administered at the doc's) and we spent the next 6 days in "fever land". It took that long for her to finally get the fever below 100, feel like eating and have any enthusiasm for anything besides watching Blues Clues, sleeping and (thankfully) drinking lots of fluids. We even had to cancel our trip to Pflugerville we had on the books so we wouldn't chance infecting Kennedy and Lleyton. (It was Tim's call but I'm glad he made it because Saturday and Sunday BOTH were fever days after a low-fever Friday.) I was about to take her back to the doc a week later when, lo, and behold, the girl woke up without a fever, demanded her breakfast and, quick as you can say "Strep be GONE", she was back to her old self. Albeit 2 lbs lighter self - which, when you started out at only 32 lbs to begin with is a HUGE weight loss! She's put it all back on now as her appetite has returned.<br /><br />But Episode Strep left us with several days of an unwanted side effect that I shall call "Little Princess Syndrome". Little Miss Thang got used to being waited on hand and foot and did NOT understand why SHE should put her shoes on/put her trash away/eat at the table/put her own clothes on/etc. It took about 4 days and lots of tears for her to realize that her perceived New World Order had only been a figment of her fever-induced delirium. Hard life lessons. Yup, that's what we're all about folks. Kill you with kindness then put you back on the road to reality.<br /><br />She lived. And so did we. Fortunately, strep did not...Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-43376666804551359302011-04-24T15:24:00.006-05:002011-04-24T16:01:21.190-05:00Hoppy Easter to All...<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQg9H_8RAPUKbItRetnUHLqGhYhJWHSuEMQ5OPlxXNbjTWYcSXiD5WXbQ3Gs3q_mpuX8r2US_Se4mclISmpzW39c8oA2s5Y-0S7EFxqFxpalomr2UR-m1mmQ7ueBOQ89e0s5CcT2O4zMI/s1600/DSC_0105+-+Version+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQg9H_8RAPUKbItRetnUHLqGhYhJWHSuEMQ5OPlxXNbjTWYcSXiD5WXbQ3Gs3q_mpuX8r2US_Se4mclISmpzW39c8oA2s5Y-0S7EFxqFxpalomr2UR-m1mmQ7ueBOQ89e0s5CcT2O4zMI/s400/DSC_0105+-+Version+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251595247908978" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Knuffle Bunny is on the left while NEW Mrs. Knuffle is on the right</span><br /><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B7KSMyS0wbU/TbSJL5AXBnI/AAAAAAAAFrc/95tdM3o8Pvo/s1600/DSC_0126.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B7KSMyS0wbU/TbSJL5AXBnI/AAAAAAAAFrc/95tdM3o8Pvo/s400/DSC_0126.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251074102265458" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VDqOgdlcQwo/TbSJMFqgPfI/AAAAAAAAFrs/YaIu8ZJz-Qc/s1600/DSC_0090%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VDqOgdlcQwo/TbSJMFqgPfI/AAAAAAAAFrs/YaIu8ZJz-Qc/s400/DSC_0090%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251077500255730" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbkg0zGuNykJQjHpRfNrpYcv3X9TyJoplUzgAEyTi4wzNcR3lUsylYODHh4R-54F-qqcfZ8-ukPCyoH_0tAnI1eY54ZqFMqkE0iulT87rc-f8R_IIjH0WWbkATrHcOyhZ8K8ugO9zJ9w8/s1600/DSC_0094+-+Version+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbkg0zGuNykJQjHpRfNrpYcv3X9TyJoplUzgAEyTi4wzNcR3lUsylYODHh4R-54F-qqcfZ8-ukPCyoH_0tAnI1eY54ZqFMqkE0iulT87rc-f8R_IIjH0WWbkATrHcOyhZ8K8ugO9zJ9w8/s400/DSC_0094+-+Version+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251590739037874" border="0" /></a><br />The Easter Bunny made his (her?) way to our house last night for the first time in a L-O-N-G time! I think the last time he graced us with his presence was quite possibly 1999. I'm glad he found us as we've only moved twice since then! But then, bunnies have a way of finding sweet children, especially cute little girls, on Easter morning. I think they share a GPS and Global Interface system with Santa Claus. I believe I've heard a rumor that the Tooth Fairy is outsourcing her Direction Acquisitions Department to this same sourcing, but it's going to be a few years before she needs to find us, I hope!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkZT-EF3XVSpCAAoW3k9hpOQ3AiCMR_EdYwPyrAwZFkxPMU5fZvAj0RxQLPPpw-9gLDcPriyEagias-sSLs1kEh6KSw-21aeFHtk96XAd7ZOTrSzwsVyBhlr1vu47rXgIyIdpdRlLVfQ/s1600/DSC_0125.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkZT-EF3XVSpCAAoW3k9hpOQ3AiCMR_EdYwPyrAwZFkxPMU5fZvAj0RxQLPPpw-9gLDcPriyEagias-sSLs1kEh6KSw-21aeFHtk96XAd7ZOTrSzwsVyBhlr1vu47rXgIyIdpdRlLVfQ/s400/DSC_0125.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251080559739746" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tUto86yYKyU/TbSJqpLt9rI/AAAAAAAAFsc/uJrfrI5InvI/s1600/DSC_0107%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tUto86yYKyU/TbSJqpLt9rI/AAAAAAAAFsc/uJrfrI5InvI/s400/DSC_0107%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251602430883506" border="0" /></a><br />Mirai was very surprised and excited to see the basket of goodies left for her once she was dressed and ready for church this morning. We didn't have a lot of time for her to see what goodies there were but she was pretty quick, though thorough, going through the contents before we headed to the car.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0V_Dob7MHwM/TbSJNRt5Y0I/AAAAAAAAFr8/pmeP-e7Zy5c/s1600/DSC_0111.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0V_Dob7MHwM/TbSJNRt5Y0I/AAAAAAAAFr8/pmeP-e7Zy5c/s400/DSC_0111.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251097915581250" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hai7Y_5ot8o/TbSJqNbT8wI/AAAAAAAAFsM/58Eww1ueFE8/s1600/DSC_0103%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hai7Y_5ot8o/TbSJqNbT8wI/AAAAAAAAFsM/58Eww1ueFE8/s400/DSC_0103%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251594980094722" border="0" /></a><br />After Bible class and worship service, we went to Perry's Steakhouse for our (first annual?? ;) Easter lunch. Mirai was good as gold which is quite a feat considering it is a very nice restaurant that takes approximately two hours to complete an entire dinner service. But she had <a href="http://mowillemsdoodles.blogspot.com/">Knuffle Bunny</a> as well as Mrs. Knuffle Bunny (whom the aforementioned EASTER bunny - my what a lot of bunnies today! - had brought her) so she had lots with which to occupy herself. Those bunnies "ate" lunch and "drank" water just like we did!<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7LlehSydnnE/TbSJ_ibVpYI/AAAAAAAAFss/xFDuxQwWwKc/s1600/DSC_0116.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7LlehSydnnE/TbSJ_ibVpYI/AAAAAAAAFss/xFDuxQwWwKc/s400/DSC_0116.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251961394603394" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixSqfgWzSt8nQIPomVlmgjBaYOCEPR9S4s9jNEGi_wurPm249p99LaqIsNDyID14qO1U0xTQLjTgx_YQoBSfjouUmyj3Z7rLfHSnhCg1olcSMbaGry-3UYOeSarqZchyphenhyphenUCMeiSDjXS7mc/s1600/DSC_0113+-+Version+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixSqfgWzSt8nQIPomVlmgjBaYOCEPR9S4s9jNEGi_wurPm249p99LaqIsNDyID14qO1U0xTQLjTgx_YQoBSfjouUmyj3Z7rLfHSnhCg1olcSMbaGry-3UYOeSarqZchyphenhyphenUCMeiSDjXS7mc/s400/DSC_0113+-+Version+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251607953472690" border="0" /></a><br />She is now down for an afternoon siesta to recover from all the excitement - I plan to follow suit immediately after posting this! She has her two bunnies with her, of course. Mrs. Knuffle became an instant favorite much to my surprise given how enamored she is of Knuffle Bunny.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_gEVSsBHAAQ/TbSKAMpIjeI/AAAAAAAAFs8/GQhFojqjRbs/s1600/DSC_0129.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_gEVSsBHAAQ/TbSKAMpIjeI/AAAAAAAAFs8/GQhFojqjRbs/s400/DSC_0129.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251972726754786" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQgjVa4-AH0b5MJVcIidTiXjblSZGOJBXVmuNR5IiMdhUlPKDO2sqFLz-3Rs502zZilXsTncj-MhzhJY8TM5awJKwvwVaEFncW8dLhtapkbmKos8kAzYldHoVg-GYNriT-RLBlKUMQps/s1600/DSC_0081.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQgjVa4-AH0b5MJVcIidTiXjblSZGOJBXVmuNR5IiMdhUlPKDO2sqFLz-3Rs502zZilXsTncj-MhzhJY8TM5awJKwvwVaEFncW8dLhtapkbmKos8kAzYldHoVg-GYNriT-RLBlKUMQps/s400/DSC_0081.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251080046565826" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eCmZfK-g6Cw/TbSJ_4cWfkI/AAAAAAAAFs0/em0kttYtHuo/s1600/DSC_0124.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eCmZfK-g6Cw/TbSJ_4cWfkI/AAAAAAAAFs0/em0kttYtHuo/s400/DSC_0124.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599251967304433218" border="0" /></a><br />Happy Easter to all! May your chocolates be many, your weight gain be none, your nap uninterrupted and your family time be fun!<br /><br />P.S. For those unfamiliar with <a href="http://mowillemsdoodles.blogspot.com/">Knuffle Bunny</a>, I'll have to do a post later on extolling the virtues of this wonderful leporidae.Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-83997771452624450002011-04-23T11:28:00.009-05:002011-04-23T12:12:24.908-05:00An Easter egg in the basket...<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-24Oy-6GL4Vg/TbMEe3KV8eI/AAAAAAAAFrI/-I3-Ly_e59g/s1600/DSC_0053%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-24Oy-6GL4Vg/TbMEe3KV8eI/AAAAAAAAFrI/-I3-Ly_e59g/s400/DSC_0053%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598823690001576418" border="0" /></a><br />...is worth none in the bush. This week has brought Mirai the wonderful concept of candy hidden inside eggs which are hidden in "plain sight", bushes and trees. There were two Easter Egg hunts - one at school and one at a friend's home for the younger children and their families from church.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRFIgJUPKQhQ4uXdyP_t6x4J3qr6I2uPenh6pq3lMYL_j4Img2ilTgLxnA5VjeKjnbDoT-bLjTz68HcTO6joSAltcLX8uK1uDZQcePLTBd0_qujNaTUk438fTZOKbGjJUxZ46ix0Ggcc/s1600/DSC_0008+-+Version+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRFIgJUPKQhQ4uXdyP_t6x4J3qr6I2uPenh6pq3lMYL_j4Img2ilTgLxnA5VjeKjnbDoT-bLjTz68HcTO6joSAltcLX8uK1uDZQcePLTBd0_qujNaTUk438fTZOKbGjJUxZ46ix0Ggcc/s400/DSC_0008+-+Version+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598823098738960450" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Picnic supper before the Relay Race and Egg Hunt<br /><br /></span></div>I'd been talking to Mirai about the Easter Bunny and how she will put her basket out Saturday night and sometime during the night or early morning, a (I assume 'large') bunny would quietly visit and leave surprises in her basket. She looked at me as if to say, "Um, sure. Okay. Out of respect I'll listen, but you are NUTS, woman!" Well, after the first Easter Egg hunt at Yellow Brick Road School on Thursday, she was a <span style="font-style: italic;">believer</span>. How can you argue with a basket full of petrochemicals shaped into the form of eggs and filled with various forms of chocolate and jelly beans??<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOrjdepsbEIjAR50JTndMDnThCSdPC7sVFnXnM-O699kxZPnvF1iBOyZ4U5o6TguvQOBWfnORqsbd8IBGcyR04dKHM6r43cD5D0TYcbGDhuYFqFOgnB2gCY28kfzOclJMQYQGxPb_kYU/s1600/DSC_0025+-+Version+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOrjdepsbEIjAR50JTndMDnThCSdPC7sVFnXnM-O699kxZPnvF1iBOyZ4U5o6TguvQOBWfnORqsbd8IBGcyR04dKHM6r43cD5D0TYcbGDhuYFqFOgnB2gCY28kfzOclJMQYQGxPb_kYU/s400/DSC_0025+-+Version+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598823104468405266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Fernanda Cannon and Mirai<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2Ech8BX2HfrGVoqeU0EKCFJXuCQFhkUZ_Vu704_8SUTBLUQBrJlBCOCgNtelvGHS2t582enrWY2JFu2sBDaqZ_87u8_Mi1_CKE0onfGDs8eBcicoOzZkALAjrZXnZL9qMpAO4_Kd0_w/s1600/DSC_0022.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2Ech8BX2HfrGVoqeU0EKCFJXuCQFhkUZ_Vu704_8SUTBLUQBrJlBCOCgNtelvGHS2t582enrWY2JFu2sBDaqZ_87u8_Mi1_CKE0onfGDs8eBcicoOzZkALAjrZXnZL9qMpAO4_Kd0_w/s400/DSC_0022.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598823102250035266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Getting ready to do the Relay Race<br /></span></div><br />Last night we went to the home of friends from church, the Brockmans, and had another egg hunt as well as a relay race. Seeing a group of mainly preschoolers attempting to hold a plastic egg on a spoon and walk it across (without dropping it - right...) to the other side of the lawn was hilarious! Mirai did pretty good if I do say so - she dropped it only once coming and once going. Her concentration was intense as she cautiously walked and balanced her egg in that spoon.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEb69dxKY5SaLkD1BPQg5BPjNODbXUk8DnnKkAUiWd3z4cHOurEnjl1LGBD5Tyr7knqPCpj6VTLdjQfHACiZ7kZSmXT_NxIO5oDvYxL7aRMJCEWcVOt4FP-oUMbm6J3r4ln9aeBJvxG-4/s1600/DSC_0038.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEb69dxKY5SaLkD1BPQg5BPjNODbXUk8DnnKkAUiWd3z4cHOurEnjl1LGBD5Tyr7knqPCpj6VTLdjQfHACiZ7kZSmXT_NxIO5oDvYxL7aRMJCEWcVOt4FP-oUMbm6J3r4ln9aeBJvxG-4/s400/DSC_0038.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598823104195248386" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Major concentration</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjys879nexRKaXJ4h71cas4w_vnPvicNpcgwNt-jA4Vs5QGNFeUZEXpCs4hf4nTTkkeg_5NMSZgCr_l_iOcVFOwXhS2tAGu7Wg22hvt9uEryBQxva5Br4UADQZq_9-Xl6cqydZaXqS9gAs/s1600/DSC_0040.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjys879nexRKaXJ4h71cas4w_vnPvicNpcgwNt-jA4Vs5QGNFeUZEXpCs4hf4nTTkkeg_5NMSZgCr_l_iOcVFOwXhS2tAGu7Wg22hvt9uEryBQxva5Br4UADQZq_9-Xl6cqydZaXqS9gAs/s400/DSC_0040.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598823686711182962" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Steady now!<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNA3jb8OpntDm_ivhTpbjJwjvcg4uze4QGdTJYzEahkow4HuDrVF43TnJaGzAu7Tj4MMSPmeKlxs5Fgddp1eXmVjCUNsAaKQlNmJEfk2ljqum9PsoCuolB0Jox0cNJORfy580vGNEr3zA/s1600/DSC_0041.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNA3jb8OpntDm_ivhTpbjJwjvcg4uze4QGdTJYzEahkow4HuDrVF43TnJaGzAu7Tj4MMSPmeKlxs5Fgddp1eXmVjCUNsAaKQlNmJEfk2ljqum9PsoCuolB0Jox0cNJORfy580vGNEr3zA/s400/DSC_0041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598823689812988738" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Oops! Try again!!</span><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-24Oy-6GL4Vg/TbMEe3KV8eI/AAAAAAAAFrI/-I3-Ly_e59g/s1600/DSC_0053%2B-%2BVersion%2B2.jpg"><br /></a>I don't know if it was her first egg hunt but it was certainly OUR first egg hunt with HER! If her reaction to the festivities is anything to go by, Sunday morning is going to be a blast!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIcPl8QklodTHkQfxOgcgeyL7MK7pbkz6ESyGem-kjCTnx_eS1hGHU8f_dLnyCeUYv_8wEMuthxYlZ_4I8OBMOhylXgVX9BCe-HMRATNPOAqyaH5b7R_MRKKDrf95rOb9TJUMTCQ_PTw/s1600/DSC_0076.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIcPl8QklodTHkQfxOgcgeyL7MK7pbkz6ESyGem-kjCTnx_eS1hGHU8f_dLnyCeUYv_8wEMuthxYlZ_4I8OBMOhylXgVX9BCe-HMRATNPOAqyaH5b7R_MRKKDrf95rOb9TJUMTCQ_PTw/s400/DSC_0076.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598824083091003858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Mrs. Palmer and Mirai after the Egg Hunt<br /><br /></span></div>Mrs. Palmer is one of Mirai's favorites (she's the mother of Beth Brockman). They have a mutual admiration society that is very sweet to watch.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgDpKpPT3lXm1UvLng9COcyshPiECYEmvrBYsBwcI4tzN6DbWzs0C4HPRoq7d1-yS7242iBIHYANg4r29_JY0wL84sKUzEqwHloBVe1xJIlqQqPLv3j2uOrO0-gRz3iwWubSocdcjT0s/s1600/DSC_0011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgDpKpPT3lXm1UvLng9COcyshPiECYEmvrBYsBwcI4tzN6DbWzs0C4HPRoq7d1-yS7242iBIHYANg4r29_JY0wL84sKUzEqwHloBVe1xJIlqQqPLv3j2uOrO0-gRz3iwWubSocdcjT0s/s400/DSC_0011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598823100044232290" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Altogether a VERY fine day!</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Thanks to Mac and Beth for hosting the Egg Hunt at their home - we truly enjoyed it!<br /></div></div>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-66235836007253774332011-03-07T19:26:00.001-06:002011-03-07T19:27:54.145-06:00From a Southern Lady...A facebook friend posted this today and I love it.<br /><br />"I am proud to be from the South - where tea is sweet and accents are sweeter; summer starts in April; front porches are wide and words are long; macaroni and cheese is a vegetable; pecan pie is a staple; Y’all is the only proper pronoun; chicken is fried and biscuits come w/ gravy; everything is darling and someone is always getting their heart blessed. Have a good day y'all!"<br /><br />My only exception to that is my aversion to sweet tea. <br /><br />But I blame my northern parents for that.Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-7798379264314509182011-03-07T12:37:00.000-06:002011-03-07T12:38:40.980-06:00Words from wise men...Words from wise men, that never seem to fade too far from reality. <br /> <br />1. In my many years I have come to a conclusion that one useless man is <br /> a shame, two is a law firm, and three or more is a Congress.<br />-- John Adams<br /> <br />2. If you don't read the newspaper you are uninformed. If you do read the <br /> newspaper you are misinformed.<br />-- Mark Twain<br /><br />3. Suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress.<br /> But then I repeat myself.<br />-- Mark Twain<br /><br />4. I contend that for a nation to try to tax itself into prosperity is like a man<br /> standing in a bucket and trying to lift himself up by the handle.<br />-- Winston Churchill<br /><br />5. A government which robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the<br /> support of Paul.<br />-- George Bernard Shaw<br /><br />6. A liberal is someone who feels a great debt to his fellow man, which<br /> debt he proposes to pay off with your money.<br />-- G. Gordon Liddy<br /> <br />7. Democracy must be something more than two wolves and a sheep<br /> voting on what to have for dinner.<br />-- James Bovard, Civil Libertarian (1994)<br /><br />8. Foreign aid might be defined as a transfer of money from poor people<br /> in rich countries to rich people in poor countries.<br />-- Douglas Casey, <br /> Classmate of Bill Clinton at Georgetown University<br /><br />9. Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car<br /> keys to teenage boys.<br />-- P.J. O'Rourke, <br /> Civil Libertarian<br /><br />10. Government is the great fiction, through which everybody endeavors<br /> to live at the expense of everybody else.<br />-- Frederic Bastiat, French Economist (1801-1850)<br /><br />11. Government's view of the economy could be summed up in a few short <br /> phrases: If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it.<br /> And if it stops moving, subsidize it.<br />-- Ronald Reagan (1986)<br /><br />12. I don't make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts.<br />-- Will Rogers<br /><br />13. If you think health care is expensive now, wait until you see what it costs<br /> when it's free!<br />-- P.J. O'Rourke<br /><br />14. In general, the art of government consists of taking as much money as<br /> possible from one party of the citizens to give to the other.<br />-- Voltaire (1764)<br /><br />15. Just because you do not take an interest in politics doesn't mean<br /> politics won't take an interest in you!<br />-- Pericles (430 B.C.)<br /><br />16. No man's life, liberty, or property is safe while the legislature is in session.<br />-- Mark Twain (1866)<br /><br />17. Talk is cheap...except when Congress does it.<br />-- Anonymous<br /><br />18. The government is like a baby's alimentary canal, with a happy appetite<br /> at one end and no responsibility at the other.<br />-- Ronald Reagan<br /><br />19. The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of the blessings.<br /> The inherent blessing of socialism is the equal sharing of misery.<br />-- Winston Churchill<br /><br />20. The only difference between a tax man and a taxidermist is that the<br /> taxidermist leaves the skin.<br />-- Mark Twain<br /><br />21. The ultimate result of shielding men from the effects of folly is to fill<br /> the world with fools.<br />-- Herbert Spencer, English Philosopher (1820-1903)<br /><br />22. There is no distinctly native American criminal class...save Congress.<br />-- Mark Twain<br /><br />23. What this country needs are more unemployed politicians.<br />-- Edward Langley, Artist (1928-1995)<br /><br />24. A government big enough to give you everything you want, is strong<br /> enough to take everything you have.<br />-- Thomas JeffersonCheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-13606536754566702592011-02-01T19:10:00.002-06:002011-02-01T20:10:27.783-06:00The New Spectator Sport......is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">HGTV's</span> "House Hunters". I've been a fan of this show for a long time but I realized today, as I was watching yet another episode as I'm recovering from a particularly nasty bout of 'flu on a Snow Day, that my motivation for watching has changed COMPLETELY from what it originally was.<br /><br />I've always loved looking at houses. When we would be transferred, yet again, with an oil company, the hunt to find a home was always the carrot for me, motivating me to get with the program of moving to a new city or even a new country. Almost every single time I had unrealistic expectations of what we could afford but still I found it a fun adventure.<br /><br />So when we moved back to the States five years ago, and yet another house search which I enjoyed more than all the rest put together, I was excited to discover this show. Mike thought I was nuts. I don't know how many times he'd walk in while I was watching and say, "WHAT do you see in this show??" I would just look at him and say, "I guess the same thing YOU see in sports?" He'd shake his head and walk away.<br /><br />But today, after watching a couple who were particularly obnoxious, I realized that I no longer watch the show to see what the houses look like. I watch it because the people are often a train wreck. The dysfunction of the relationships has eclipsed the home features and prices. You know, where you watch in abject horror but yet can't turn away? Even with all the flashing lights and emergency vehicles??<br /><br />You can tell which couples you'd like to actually know and the ones you fear might move in next door to you. The good ones are those who know what they want and are united in price. The ones who ask each other what their opinion is of a property/style/location. The ones who find things in a property to tell their spouse about because they know it's something that is important to the spouse. The ones who seem happy and obviously care for each other.<br /><br /> The latter seem to make up a lot of them. The ones where one spouse (in couples) is always talking about what THEY want (THEIR style, THEIR room, THEIR pool, THEIR kitchen). The wives who "give" their husbands 1/5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> of the closet space. The husbands who demand their "man cave" over functioning kitchens and secondary family baths (and I HATE that term, "man cave" - like they are bears or something). The young professionals who make it abundantly clear they expect and can afford the very best and display an elitist attitude that dares anyone to tell them otherwise. The couples who belittle each other in an ill fated attempt to make themselves look more knowledgeable or "well-heeled". The wives who pout and just say, "I WANT this house. Get me THIS house." The ones who refuse to budge over a low-ball figure and then wonder why they don't get the house. The ones who give their realtor grief because they can't find the perfect castle in the best neighborhood for $150,000 or less.<br /><br />And the show "Selling New York"? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">House Hunters</span> on steroids?? Oh my, don't even get me started. Househunters International? The ones where the family are moving from the US to a foreign country for a job? I often wish for a "follow-up" episode to see if the family made it. Having been part of a group who helped soon-t0-be expatriates prepare for overseas assignments, I sometimes see the handwriting on the wall that THIS particular family has NO business moving overseas.<br /><br />Having purchased eleven properties and leased seven in our marriage, I've often wondered how I've come across to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">realtors</span>/estate agents of the past, both home and abroad, who helped us find our homes. I hope I never treated them with the disdain some of these people exhibit. And I know I've made the "here's your little bit of closet" joke more than once (sorry, Mike). It has to be a study in patience as well as family relationships to be a really good realtor I've often thought. They have to have worse hours than a doctor sometimes when people come into town and have one week or less to find a house. I know we've looked at 40-50 houses sometimes in really high dollar cities (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Chicagoland</span>) where we'd try to find SOMETHING similar to what we left in the cheaper city (Houston) that would work for the extra $100,000 this new location was going to cost us to get half of what we had before (at least we always DID buy something eventually, even when the first contracts fell through - as they ALWAYS did in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Naperville</span>).<br /><br />I remember Mike and I being torn between two houses when we first moved back to Houston in the early '90s. His boss took us out to dinner during the house hunting trip and asked us how the search was going. Mike told him we'd found a couple of houses we really liked but I liked one and he liked the other. His boss looked him in the eye and said, "Michael, buy the woman the house she wants. She's the one who's going to be living there." He did and I did. And I loved his boss, the dear, dear man.<br /><br />So for me, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">House Hunters</span> has become more of a study in relationships than home buying. The variety of homes one sees is of interest for sure but nothing beats the people who are the "home predators".<br /><br />And some days I just feel sorry for the house.Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5852618309954773158.post-23546657946713522402011-01-27T09:28:00.002-06:002011-01-27T09:29:12.564-06:00The Invisible MomThis was sent to me today by a dear friend in England. I just had to share it. Thanks Kathleen for sharing it with me.<br /><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 14pt;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Invisible Mother.....</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'<br /><br />Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??<br /><br />Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'<br /><br />Some days I'm a crystal ball; 'Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?'<br /><br />I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!?<br /><br />One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the greatcathedrals of Europe.<br /><br />I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'<br /><br />In the days ahead I would read - no, devoured - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.<br /><br />A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'<br /><br />I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.<br /><br />No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.<br /><br />I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.<br /><br />When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a<br />turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he'd say, 'You're gonna love it there...'<br /><br />As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.<br /><br />Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know... I just did.<br /><br />The Will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.<br /><br />To all the wonderful mothers out there!!<br />May God give you...<br />For every storm, a rainbow,<br />For every tear, a smile,<br />For every care, a promise,<br />And a blessing in each trial.<br />For every problem life sends,<br />A faithful friend to share,<br />For every sigh, a sweet song,<br />And an answer for each prayer.</span></p></div>Cheri (aka "The Mom Lady")http://www.blogger.com/profile/12447915936118039074noreply@blogger.com1