tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-284153862024-03-07T18:45:33.382-06:00The Home Team WinsChristinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.comBlogger595125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-88154617221763788772014-10-12T11:27:00.000-05:002014-10-12T11:27:30.171-05:00Less than a week to go!Carson comes home in six days! I will not say the past two weeks have flown by, but it does seem like I have not been nearly has teary as I was the first few days. I thought I would break down every time I talked to him. I thought I wouldn't be ABLE to talk to him for losing it. But that hasn't happened! I'm surprising myself here as much as I'm surprised that Carson wants to end all our conversations after 10 minutes.<br />
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I've only talked to him about four times since he's been gone. I do my best to ask leading questions and get him going, telling me all the minutiae I want to hear, like what exactly are you eating every day. But he doesn't bite...he answers dutifully and then all of a sudden he'll say "hey, I gotta go, we're playing a game..." or some such thing that is far better than speaking to the one you brought you into this world and then sent you halfway around it and is a little on the freaked-out side that you do not want to speak to her more than nine minutes.<br />
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But you go play your game, by all means.<br />
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Honestly, it beats having to talk down a sobbing son who longs to come home. He seems to really be enjoying himself, and the details that I don't get from him are posted on a private Facebook site for all us parents to see. We get a recap of their field trips, photos galore, and videos. On one call, though, I did come right out and ask him "are you homesick?" And he said "well, I try not to think about it." So I shut up and said nothing else about it. Like any mom, I really want him to be able to tell me what he's thinking, but sheez I also want to leave the kid alone and if he can get through a tough time by just "not thinking about it" then maybe that's maturity?<br />
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Today he and his family are touring Paris. I am so thrilled for him I can't stand it and I reminded him yesterday to take a ton of pictures and get his camera charged, etc.<br />
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Oh, some people have asked me about his spending money, so if you're curious: part of the exchange "tuition" was an allowance of $40 in Euros per week they are there. The chaperone gives that to them on Mondays. I asked Carson if he'd spent any money and he got a twinkle in is eye: "oh, yes!" So I left it at that...I can't wait to see what he thought worthy to make the trip home.<br />
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As for Cooper, that other son of mine, he has survived quite well without Carson, but I will say he has not been in our backyard one time since Carson left. He is well aware of when we are scheduled to call Carson, and he's written him a couple of emails (which I cannot possibly decipher because they are about Clash of Clans and DreamLeague Soccer...). He said one day last week...he just wants to hug him.<br />
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Me too.<br />
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Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-73122273134096699592014-10-01T16:23:00.003-05:002014-10-01T16:23:54.139-05:00Day 5 of 21Y'all don't worry, I'm not posting my drama out here every single day until Carson comes home. But I could if I wanted to 'cause it is my blog and I'll cry if I want to.<br />
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And I have.<br />
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And it came out of nowhere.<br />
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And my friends understood.<br />
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I'm good with Carson being in France. I'm good with his host family situation. I love that he's getting to do this with kids he's known since Kindergarten and a chaperone he loves.<br />
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But apparently all this "goodness" has elevated my emotions without me realizing it.<br />
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Yesterday I was at work and I got a call from my doctor who wanted me to come visit her before she called in a prescription for me (to cure this nagging, three-month-old cough). The appointment she offered me was in the middle of my work day, THAT day, and I hadn't made arrangements to be gone. So I did what normal people do when they have to leave work unplanned:<br />
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I cried.<br />
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Then because crying for this reason is so absurd, I began laughing. It was all just absurd. And my friends at work were like, um, what are we supposed to do here? And that made me laugh some more while I was crying.<br />
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I ended up going to my appointment at my friends' suggestion (lordy, pity them had they said not to go), missing the rest of the day's work, and getting a bunch of prescriptions, an X-ray, and a breathing treatment (maybe I should have had one of those at the airport).<br />
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And then I realized that if I'm going to have a peaceful next 16 days I better get my emotions together, for my sake and those around me. Yes, it's an emotional thing for me: I'm proud and happy for him and overwhelmed and yes I MISS MY SON. So all of that means I'm going to be a little sensitive to things like demanding doctors.<br />
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I suppose that's okay as long as people are aware it's not them, it's me. I should wear a badge: "Caution: Son is in France. Disappoint me at your own risk."<br />
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Aww, I'll be able to keep it together until he gets back. I have no idea how I know this, but I believe it at this moment and that's what matters.<br />
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So on to Days 6-21. I can't wait. <br />
Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-12100470732478378322014-09-28T09:45:00.001-05:002014-09-28T09:45:19.804-05:00Let's skip to the fun part...I was going to sit down last night and write a post about the airport scene. I thought for a couple of hours what I wanted to write: about how the kids were so excited to get on the plane and how the parents were nervous and crazy. (Well, really just me.) I was going to write some tearjerker thing about being proud of Carson and proud of myself for keeping my emotions in check most of the time until they began their walk toward Security.<br />
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I was gonna write all that, but then it just got too late and I was exhausted and too busy watching the little plane inch along on Flight Aware.<br />
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So, too late for that post now, I want to skip to the fun stuff!<br />
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Carson has arrived and is safely with his host family! We Skyped with him this morning and he looks great...not tired but I know he is because he said he only slept for an hour (which could actually be 30 minutes or three hours, doesn't really matter). He said he got to sit by his BFF and that they had a croissant on-board. I'm sure they fed them more than that, and if not he had quite a buffet in his backpack.<br />
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He has his own room at his host family's house, and he proudly showed me a bookshelf where he "organized his stuff." He said there's a window in his room that he can open like a door. (And it's a beautiful sunny day there today which just added to the whole feel-good scenario.)<br />
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I met his host mom, who is so sweet and continues to apologize for her shaky English. I told her it was perfect. (I've also asked her to speak French to Carson as much as possible.)<br />
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This afternoon they were taking him to a park and then I hope he'll be able to stay awake until bedtime.<br />
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So here we go...the countdown to October 18 begins!<br />
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Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-6535838693666634272014-09-27T09:41:00.002-05:002014-09-27T09:41:45.462-05:00We leave in an hourIt's almost time to head to the airport. I've been up this morning since a crazy hour making my boy whatever he wanted for breakfast and trying to think of something he might have forgotten to pack in his suitcase. I've reached the they-have-stores-there stage and we are ready to close it up.<br />
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His backpack is full of enough snacks and activities to last him TWO international flights, but miraculously the thing only weighs 13 pounds. I think he must be in heaven with it and all its compartments: I can still remember when he was a toddler and wanted to pack Ziploc bags full of stuff all the time.<br />
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Me? I'm doin' okay. Last night I told Carson everything I wanted him to know before he leaves, so I wouldn't have to try to speak at the airport. He sat and listened and tried not to roll his eyes and I didn't even tear up one time. I think those things I was saying...all the safety reminders, all the encouraging words, were more for me though. He already knows them.<br />
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The most important thing I wanted him to know is that when we say goodbye I would not be talking to him because I'd be trying to keep it together, and I didn't want him to think something was wrong.<br />
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But honestly I don't think he would have noticed. He's so ready to get on that plane he can't stand it. And when he disappears around the corner after getting through security, I'll be so ready for him to get started on this trip. So ready to hear about this experience, the thing that HE'S doing that I've never done. It's gonna be amazing.<br />
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Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-28259573791653384052014-09-22T11:35:00.000-05:002014-09-22T11:35:46.969-05:00On sending Carson to FranceIt's been a while since I've posted anything (I know, not news to you). Maybe this time I'm posting for myself as much as anything else. It's a big week here, though...it's when we send Carson to France for three weeks.<br />
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There, I said it. Wow. It hardly seems possible.<br />
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Oh, the logistics of it are possible all right: he will depart this coming Saturday at 2:00, arrive the next morning in Paris, take a bus with his fellow travelers to the city of Amiens, and be greeted with a group lunch and his host family. He has a passport, a big suitcase, some electronics, books, and snacks, and a journal to write about his experience.<br />
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And it's possible also because of the awesome school he and Cooper attend. They've facilitated these exchanges many times to France, Costa Rica, and most recently Madrid. His chaperone is someone who has taken groups of Fifth Graders to France many times: she's organized, specific about what she expects from the kids, and she's a mom.<br />
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The "hardly seems possible" comes in when I consider that I'm good with all that. It's been a process, don't get me wrong. When he started at this school in Kindergarten, I heard about the French Exchange and it felt scary: I mean, c'mon, Carson was SIX. I couldn't imagine for a minute putting my baby on a plane without me. And letting him stay with strangers for three weeks, in a foreign country.<br />
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Then over the years my "baby" started hearing snippets at school about the exchange. I think I must have asked him a thousand times since 2009: "Carson, would you want to go on the exchange?" I was tempted to start fabricating horror stories about kids who wailed for days when they got over there, how French food is really horrible, and no soccer balls are allowed in France.<br />
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But I resisted, and I heard wonderful things about the experience, from both kids and parents. The kids get to go to school, tour Paris and other amazing sites, and use their French language skills for three weeks solid. And they come back with a new appreciation for their international counterparts. Their global horizon is broadened. There's emotional growth and they become more responsible.<br />
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And every single time I asked him if he wanted to go, he always said yes. Without hesitation.<br />
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But hey, just because my kid wants to do something doesn't me we always say yes (soccer, golf, and basketball notwithstanding). I also think Carson's mature enough to handle it. He's comfortable meeting new people, he can handle social situations, and he is responsible with his belongings. And he's done a little air travel so that's not an issue. He has closed all the loopholes!<br />
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So now the possibility has become reality: he's going. I'm letting him. I'm going to miss him terribly. I'm going to Skype him and email him. I'm going to cry when he leaves for so many reasons. <br />
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I'm also going to spoil Cooper for three weeks.<br />
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His host family:<br />
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<img alt="Displaying 02112013-02112013-IMG_4565.jpg" class="aLF-aPX-J1-J3" height="266" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=44c5b164bf&view=fimg&th=147ba647cd7a3079&attid=0.2&disp=inline&safe=1&attbid=ANGjdJ9P25nHRS6BdpdTExYuWD-rtrMdrZlCZcmqiGvuvKvmya6nP4yT21qk_8aso5W7aj4-mXjVLuIFtkjbmSurwOWt0fFnzE2EgCymiPUnX9QjCvuOI8Vnh0ldAL8&ats=1411401080046&rm=147ba647cd7a3079&zw&sz=w1237-h680" width="400" /><br />
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Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-40204820871369807062014-02-24T14:09:00.003-06:002014-02-24T14:09:59.845-06:00So long, SochiPardon me while I'm in my funk-of-every-four-years. See, yesterday the Winter Olympics ended. I LOOOOVE the Winter Olympics! Even though the USA figure skaters didn't really show up much. Okay, Meryl and Charlie won gold in Ice Dance but no one really watches that. We wanted our Ladies and Pairs up on that podium! (I also hope someone recognizes the insanity of that "team competition" and stops it before Korea 2018. It's just a country competition and I don't understand what the purpose of it is. I think if you put all the skaters from one country out on the ice at the same time and have them to a program together...that would be interesting!)<br />
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Anyway, so then there was hockey. I hate watching hockey. I'm thankful my husband is not a hockey fan. BUT, if there's a major hockey event I will watch it. We had a fleeting one of those when the USA beat Russia in a shoot-out and one of our guys (see, already forgot his name) was a household name for a minute. Then nothing, and I went back to hating hockey.<br />
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The boys were into it this year, too. Cooper told me, as if he was stating the sky is blue, that he wants to be an Olympic snowboarder. Guess he can do that in the off-season of NFL football. And the NBA. That boy... It's fun to think about though: this is the first Winter Olympics he'll remember watching with the family. Carson just might remember Vancouver 2010. I have awesome memories of watching the Olympics when I was a kid and I hope they do, too.<br />
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So for this sports-watching family we have to wait two years to hear that familiar Olympic anthem, and four years for the good Olympics.<br />
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And omg. I just realized I'll be 51 years old when that happens. Uh. Wow.<br />
Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-80202835691951364402014-02-15T20:08:00.000-06:002014-02-15T20:08:54.224-06:00Crickets. And game whistles.I'm such a cliche tonight.<br />
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My husband's out of town and the boys got invited out with a friend for the evening. Five hours with no one here at the house but me. At night, on a weekend.<br />
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I thought it would be kind of cool, ya know. Watch whatever I want on TV (even though omg the channels still land on SPORTS and I have no idea how that happens with the sports people in this family aren't even in the house!). Eat whatever I want for dinner. No one to pick up after or nag to pick up after themselves.<br />
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Instead of melting into solitary bliss, I'm watching the clock tick until someone interrupts it. I miss them all and I'm done with my silent night. Bring me back the busy!! Now!!<br />
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See? Cliche. But I believe cliches exist because they are often true.<br />
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But still, why can't we just be content with the way things are at this moment instead of always wishing for something different?<br />
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I'm going to ponder that awhile. In my boring silence but for the roar of some crowd on TV.Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-83808591660760529112014-02-14T21:38:00.005-06:002014-02-14T21:38:59.026-06:00A Love-ly DayHappy Valentine's Day. I went to the boys' school to help with their parties. Their teachers have them design and construct boxes or some other vessel at home and they bring them to school to hold all their Valentines.<br />
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I wish I'd photographed some of these structures! I think some kids must have started designing their boxes back in December. (Carson was not exactly jazzed about it...maybe that's expected from a Fourth Grade boy? Last night at 7:30 he poked around in the garage and came up with an Adidas shoe box. Glued a red heart on each side, called it "lame," and he was satisfied.)<br />
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Their parties were loud and chaotic as usual but the kids seemed to have a lot of fun. There were plenty of parents there to help hand out goodies and clean up and stuff, but oh my...I am exhausted and the boys are exhausted. Why are parties so dang exhausting?<br />
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I'm realizing, though, that they won't be having these little classroom parties much longer. And as they get older I'll have fewer chances to visit them in their classrooms for anything, much less a party. I kinda want them to remember that I took a little time to be there on some special days like this.<br />
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(I'm off to a flying start on this back-to-blogging thing, right? I just stared at this post for 15 minutes trying to make it into something...else. But you know, that's my life: it's not a fairytale or a riveting novel. It's just my everyday. Welcome to it.)Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-42397660830720452832014-02-12T18:18:00.004-06:002014-02-12T19:34:08.451-06:00So.I'm not going to spend a lot of time explaining or apologizing for not blogging for...gulp...YEARS. I'm just not going to do it. I think people get tired of hearing the excuses about why bloggers abandon their blogs and would rather them just get on with blogging again. Hmm.<br />
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But I can't start back up here without having a little bit of a plan as to what this blog will be now. I feel like I need to clarify why, on this day, I decided to write again.<br />
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One big reason is that I decided to read some past posts. I was astounded to read about some things that I would have completely forgotten about had I not written about them. There were a few cringe-worthy posts (omg who cares about me and Dwayne watching TV?!) and a few posts that still get me emotional. Good or bad, they are me in that moment of my life, and I kind of like being able to reflect on stuff since my memory is getting worse by the minute.<br />
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Now where was I?<br />
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Oh, so another reason I wanted to start writing again is that a couple of my nieces have started blogging. When I read their heartfelt posts I scream to myself "I have heartfelt in me, too!" or at least a little boring daily recap, and then I grumble about how my blog is old and stale and I only had seven readers anyway so why bother.<br />
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But then I would write posts in my head. I'd think "I'd so blog that, if I blogged anymore." And I remembered that even though I've been away from being paid for it for a long time, I still like to put my thoughts in writing. It's that simple. I like to write things down and string words together. Just sitting here pecking out these paragraphs feels like I'm home again.<br />
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So now I have to think about audience again, because you know, a good writer writes <i>to</i> someone. That's a tough one, since this blog is basically about me and my life and I'm not sure anyone really cares that much about all those details. There are way more interesting bloggers out there (ya think?!), bloggers who give information or write how-to posts or inspirational messages. This blog is none of those or maybe it is sometimes by accident. I believe my audience out here is...me. And I guess that's good enough if it gets me blogging again.<br />
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But if you enjoy reading about me (or my kids or my husband from time to time) then hang out here and let me know about it in the comments. I could use the company.Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-73857697693999819762011-10-17T21:42:00.000-05:002011-10-17T21:42:46.693-05:00Nothing special...which makes it specialI took these photos a couple of months ago. It wasn't a birthday. It wasn't a holiday. It wasn't an original location or first-day-of-anything or last-day-of-something or even a Saturday.<br />
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It was just an ordinary day. Evening I think, since Cooper (at six years old) is always lobbying to sleep in the top bunk. I didn't even crop or edit these pictures; I kind of didn't know what to do with them.<br />
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But now I know: I'm taking more pictures like them. They're a reminder that I need to take more photos of the ordinary times. The special occasions...of course I have a lot of shots of those. The day-to-day stuff? Not so much...not since they've gotten a little older and in school. Seems like school and all its activities have crowded out the routine but special time I used to have so much of with the boys. At least this time of year...<br />
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So here's to more of the ordinary. And Cooper getting to the top bunk someday.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUxjCmwBe9D4vElbPNc9gniap-_9xBie4ckMoNtlOl2aKK3IJPH2U86GjjOuuz8ZrhFfRs-TvE1GmPEfldOkbxKPmdJYvTLCzpJu-42-tQlm8oS80-rmk2pj3DZbETSPcDvIfazA/s1600/DSC01089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUxjCmwBe9D4vElbPNc9gniap-_9xBie4ckMoNtlOl2aKK3IJPH2U86GjjOuuz8ZrhFfRs-TvE1GmPEfldOkbxKPmdJYvTLCzpJu-42-tQlm8oS80-rmk2pj3DZbETSPcDvIfazA/s320/DSC01089.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7gymw4Dt4EKr9brpw0lA_LZbKCKT5SfTD8o8RDjPq2fulb1Pk4lmUjtEWGV22XkOgoc8MhUCyzFEUNjAMd8IYw9HUBgPVve-yyrpeoqfaMBX6vOjvl0qSjvNkgM4yzY1JHNiBA/s1600/DSC01096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7gymw4Dt4EKr9brpw0lA_LZbKCKT5SfTD8o8RDjPq2fulb1Pk4lmUjtEWGV22XkOgoc8MhUCyzFEUNjAMd8IYw9HUBgPVve-yyrpeoqfaMBX6vOjvl0qSjvNkgM4yzY1JHNiBA/s320/DSC01096.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWAfGaL3kKNUvqr_OzZuD8sMxdbJJbhOAeG5W-slo84yyJHB_M-DCgz2Y7IFOrrHi85Txc97DlzPcuvsWM8C3F1L2wjmnXNRjxcmMN3g7pHR2_noesGnt25BK17c4J-7Kd-ci7Q/s1600/DSC01092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWAfGaL3kKNUvqr_OzZuD8sMxdbJJbhOAeG5W-slo84yyJHB_M-DCgz2Y7IFOrrHi85Txc97DlzPcuvsWM8C3F1L2wjmnXNRjxcmMN3g7pHR2_noesGnt25BK17c4J-7Kd-ci7Q/s320/DSC01092.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></div>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-13654790615902655702011-10-11T07:58:00.000-05:002011-10-11T07:58:25.540-05:00If an apology falls on deaf ears, do you still have to apologize?So yesterday morning when I got the boys up I thought I'd try apologizing for acting the way I did the night before. I wanted to tell them it's hard to have a lot of patience all the time and that at the end of the day that patience gets thinner and thinner and when I have to do tasks I really dislike it puts me in a rotten mood and I took it out on them but also Cooper you shouldn't have hit your brother but I shouldn't have reacted like that and I'm soooo sorry.<br />
<br />
Yes, I really wanted to say all that, but I knew they would just stare at me and probably at the end of my diatribe they would just say "okay."<br />
<br />
So I decided to take an easier, less dramatic route. I waited until they were a few bites into their breakfast and then I said "sorry I was such a crab last night. You get double goodnight kisses tonight."<br />
<br />
Chewing their waffles, they looked up at me and Cooper says "okay." I don't think Carson looked up.<br />
<br />
Seriously, are apologies to my kids more for me than for them? Do they really care?<br />
<br />
I did feel better having said it to them, and maybe in ten years they'll remember their mom wasn't too good to tell them I'm sorry.<br />
<br />
But just in case they never remember that, I showed up at the school to have lunch with them. Maybe they'll never understand why I was there on that day, but for whatever reason they make a big deal about it when I surprise them at lunchtime. And that's just fine with me...Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-18873682103776297722011-10-09T22:01:00.001-05:002011-10-09T22:12:17.289-05:00One of those nights...Who knows why I'm choosing such a crappy night to turn to you, neglected blog readers (if there's any of you still out there). But tonight, for whatever reason, I feel compelled...<br />
<br />
It was a busy night here: we got home from soccer and eating dinner out at 7:15. Not insanely late but still late, considering the boys' bedtime is 8:00 on a school night and I am a major scrooge about varying from it even a little.<br />
<br />
So when we walked in the door I realized...and nearly turned back around and walked out...that I'd forgotten to get clean sheets on all our beds. The boys' BUNKBEDS were already stripped of their bedding or I'd have put off this horrible task yet another day. So I started my barking at them to begin their bath while I tackled the beds.<br />
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And our bed was jacked up, too. For some reason there was gigantic hole in the bottom sheet where my feet go. Maybe I desperately need a pedicure or something, but with each passing night the hole ripped further and further until it got about two feet (no pun intended) wide.<br />
<br />
So every bed in our house needed changing, on a school night with baths still ahead of us at 7:30 p.m.<br />
<br />
That's a lot of not-needed detail just to say that wrestling with it all just put me in a foul mood. Bunkbeds have their place in life, I suppose, but OH MY. Changing the sheets on those things ranks right up there with dental work.<br />
<br />
And since the clock was ticking toward bedtime I got to parent (i.e., yell) from afar to the boys to hurry up with their baths and teeth-brushing. That's fun.<br />
<br />
Dwayne was in the house, in case you're wondering. And he did show up in their bedroom to help. But he's just not as, shall we say, enthusiastic about keeping bedtime on time as I am. I tell him all the time if he was the one who had to drag them awake every morning, he'd make sure they got to bed on time.<br />
<br />
So finally the task of clean sheets was done and the boys were momentarily alone in their room, and I hear a "whap!"<br />
<br />
The sound of Cooper's hand hitting some part of Carson.<br />
<br />
So given the mood I was in and the late hour and whatever else had been piling up in my mind...I totally went off on him and yelled until the chandelier rattled (okay, if we had a chandelier it would have rattled). I made him apologize to Carson and then put them both in bed without saying goodnight or prayers or reading a story or even giving a kiss.<br />
<br />
I went in the living room, got the remote, and for one hour I polluted my mind with Kim Kardashian's wedding special.<br />
<br />
See, you'd feel like crap, too.<br />
<br />
I think Dwayne went in to the boys and tried to smooth things over for me, but I didn't get a chance to ask him because he, too, went straight to bed. Asleep.<br />
<br />
So looks like, at this moment, I've hurt the feelings of everyone in this house.<br />
<br />
Right now I really just want to go wake everyone up and tell them I'm sorry. But I know all these men, and I believe they all like their sleep more than hearing me grovel.<br />
<br />
I suppose I've done the crime; tomorrow I'll have to do the time. I don't really know what I can do to make it up to everyone. Frankly, I think the boys will forget about it pretty quickly and move on. Probably the more I say about it, the more they'll just be like "okay, Mom. Can we have fruit snacks in our lunch?"<br />
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Tonight, though, I think some prayers for patience are in order...<br />
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<a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="christine sig" border="0" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-15608755925783424882011-07-27T21:29:00.000-05:002011-07-27T21:29:26.352-05:00Wow.I used to love it out here. Just writing whatever...whenever. Now Whatever and Whenever have completely stopped.<br />
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I have my reasons. Maybe I started meeting too many of my readers face to face. That's weird. See, I like to think no one's reading and I can just write whatever...whenever. But now and then I get an audible comment and I want to escape somewhere and shut the door. Still trying to figure that one out...<br />
<br />
But it turns out some people missed reading my little (and I do mean little) blog. Not many, but some. <br />
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Maybe I'll just start up this ol' rickety thing again.<br />
<br />
Hmmm...<br />
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<img alt="christine sig" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" />Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-33625884647831161482011-04-18T11:44:00.001-05:002011-04-18T11:45:34.873-05:00How I'm living without FacebookIt's been since Ash Wednesday that I gave up Facebook for Lent. If you aren't sure why we Catholics bother to find something to "give up" during these days preceding Easter, <a href="http://www.americancatholic.org/newsletters/CU/ac0302.asp#F2">check here</a> for a thorough explanation. Me? I find it strengthening to challenge myself to abstain from something in my life that I feel is bringing me down...that seems to suck the time from my day (or brain cells from my head) with really nothing to offer me in return.<br />
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(The Lenten season is made up of the 40 days before Easter. I've read and heard a few places that Sundays during this time are not considered part of Lent, and therefore you're not required to abstain from whatever you're giving up on these days. I finally looked it up and found <a href="http://www.americancatholic.org/Messenger/Feb2002/wiseman.asp#F5">this explanation</a>, which is very convincing.)<br />
<br />
Why was Facebook my target this year? I found I was spending a couple of hours a day reading things like "nice day today...I think I'll take a walk" and "is it Monday already?" I don't think these types of inane comments would normally bother me, but seeing them every day was mind-numbing. Once I realized my friends' and family were having an okay day or their kids were super cute the day before, I would wander off to someone's photo albums and waste some more time viewing, ultimately, photos I'd already seen.<br />
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Then there was Bejeweled Blitz. It's an Facebook video game where...oh, suffice it to say it was not time well spent. In addition to a couple of hours on Facebook reading statuses and viewing photos and whatnot, I'd skip over to BB where I could play one-minute games for 40 minutes or more. And this would happen three or four times a day.<br />
<br />
<br />
So in an effort to use my time more wisely I gave it all up. For several days I went cold turkey: didn't even log on to Facebook one time.<br />
<br />
Then I started sneaking out there every once in a while. I do have some family members I like to keep up with...and my sister got married for heaven's sake. I had to view photos!<br />
<br />
I can tell you, however, it's nothing like it was before. I scroll down once, maybe twice, to see if there's anything I've missed. Then I'm done! There's no aimless wandering! Once or twice I've cringed at a status here or there, and then I know it's time to shut it down. And I do it with ease instead of trying to find something worthwhile. And recently when tornado weather passed through the area, I watched TV with glee and thought about the five or six or twenty media-types I follow, and how they'd be saying the same ol' thing over and over and over. (Could be a clue I need to de-friend some folks...)<br />
<br />
I like Facebook, I really do. But tempering my use of it these last few weeks has been good for my soul. I've learned I can say no to myself once in a while. I'll probably start updating my status a little after Easter, but it feels like the end of getting up from my computer wondering why I wasted so much time there.<br />
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<img alt="christine sig" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" /><br />
<a href="http://www.hometeamwins.com/" title="christine sig by I Should Be Folding Laundry, on Flickr"></a>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-11550179063261949872011-03-21T13:55:00.000-05:002011-03-21T13:55:52.654-05:00Since I gave up Facebook for Lent...I'm sharing this with my <i>true </i>friends...at least the ones who appreciate (or severely do not) pop music.<br />
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<a href="http://hypervocal.com/entertainment/2011/video-why-do-all-those-pop-songs-sound-the-same/">Why do all those pop songs sound the same?</a><br />
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<img alt="christine sig" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" />Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-18511038137104976152011-03-21T11:45:00.000-05:002011-03-21T11:45:55.166-05:00NCAA tournament comes to Tulsa...<a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="christine sig" border="0" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" /></a> ...and so do dancin' fans. Or at least <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDzPgiI1xcU">those who think they can</a>.Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-23733332685527941362011-02-04T13:25:00.001-06:002011-02-04T13:25:26.873-06:00Wow<div><p>We already got 14 inches of snow...is this really necessary?</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyqDIYJh5rZuuM75Qnj25y_afgLaQNYDVIJTTnfSHTD76PoYe-m15j6qasM0ovP6lcyOKMBp6yIKIrV4es1elVgHx6TDkfl3ax0omNTK4zWTm-SWMGk9Bvg4gHGhef29ctnKQ7g/' /></div>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-7988520731878192232011-02-04T10:16:00.001-06:002011-02-04T10:16:06.360-06:00Testing mobile blogger app<div><p>Just downloaded Blogger for android.  Apparently I can now blog from my phone.  Woo-hoo!  For me at least.</p>
<p>The boys are busy scanning 40-year-old slides into computer files for their grandpa.  I have no idea how to do it so I guess I can go take a nap.</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1sUTs-RdUOcIPSJg9AJCYQWjB5htVDuRl9gs-LY3nyAS_c_vWIkjTTXAMV7TSkD876Qp9_m8th1O2Nc54CxTbVWEn-idFD5InckJiYUar4GFZ-dhd_UsNURyLX9Oy7NBW9_Jpw/' /></div>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-81022775765885812992011-02-03T12:42:00.000-06:002011-02-03T12:42:40.943-06:00Blizzard: Day ThreeThat's right: I haven't updated my blog in a month and now I'm jumping into the fray in the middle, not even at the beginning, of Tulsa's big 'ol blizzard of 2011. It's Day Three of the mayhem, and even though the snow has stopped falling it's really worse than the first day, you know, the one when we got all the snow and wind...it wasn't as bad for the road and temps situation as the last two have been.<br />
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Man, I'm boring.<br />
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But trudging onward... <br />
<br />
Dwayne managed to get his truck out of the confines of the driveway yesterday and go to work, but I think he was one of about three people who made it. And he was not happy about it. For you motherly types out there, I did try to discourage him from going in but he was on a mission so I loaded him up with a big quilt and some rations in a paper bag, some coffee, and a Gatorade in case he sweat (huh?). He worked almost the whole day and crept home while talking to me on his headset thing and informing me of two drivers who passed him and how he "waved" to them. Thankfully he's made it driving about town without incident. Or accident.<br />
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The boys and I...we're surviving. The first day it was all fun and games and snow ice cream, now I'm just trying to keep them from hurting each other. I made them little tickets to redeem for playing video games, each of them worth 30 minutes. Give or take an hour. So far it's keeping everyone happy.<br />
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Oh, and in preparation for the storm, we stopped at their school's library on Monday and loaded up on books, about a dozen or so. Unfortunately, Carson only had about ten books left to go on his 100-books reading log and he managed to knock those out before the snow even stopped falling. That little piece of paper on the refrigerator was such a motivator for him to read every day that I'm thinking of printing off another one for him to do before the end of the year.<br />
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As for Cooper, he didn't have a reading log but that little dude is reading his share nonetheless. He can poke his way through Green Eggs and Ham and a couple of others. He informed me last night that he would read to me any time I wanted him to...<br />
<br />
Oh, and yes, we've been outside. The first trip I stayed indoors in my flannel while Dwayne ventured out with the boys. The drifts...they swallowed them up! Carson came in and told me he had so much fun making lots of "trespasses" all over the yard.<br />
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I'll pause while you think about that one.<br />
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I did take snow photos but they are still on my camera with most of December's. I'm so behind on photos...<br />
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To add to our drama...wait...there's no drama here. I wish there was, actually. But to add to whatever we have going on here, there's a leak in our roof that is drip-drip-dripping water into a pan in our living room. This happened during the Christmas Eve Blizzard last year and the roofer guy assured us that was a freak storm and it would never happen again. Thanks, roofer guy...<br />
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That's all I got. Stay warm.<br />
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<a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="christine sig" border="0" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-79012732208878981482010-12-28T22:01:00.000-06:002010-12-28T22:01:59.545-06:00ThieveryMy niece and my sister from Texas spent a night with us last night and Brittany, being The Fun Cousin, brought an activity for the kids.<br />
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And since I'm the Queen of the Lazy Bloggers I'm so stealing <a href="http://yeartwentyfive.blogspot.com/2010/12/343365.html">this post</a> from her about the evening.<br />
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(And the rest of her blog is pretty darn entertaining, too.) <br />
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<img alt="christine sig" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" />Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-59019747822204336052010-12-16T08:08:00.001-06:002010-12-16T08:08:49.724-06:00Eggnog Cupcakes: the recipeAs promised, here's the recipe for Eggnog Cupcakes. It came in the mail in a flyer for Braum's, a wonderful local-ish dairy store who needs a real graphic designer but puts out some to-die-for products and recipes.<br />
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<b>CREAMY EGGNOG CUPCAKES</b><br />
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<b>Cupcakes</b><br />
1 (16 oz.) package pound cake mix<br />
1 1/4 c. eggnog<br />
2 large eggs<br />
1/2 tsp. nutmeg<br />
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract<br />
<br />
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Beat all ingredients together at low speed until blended. Increase speed to medium and beat two minutes more. Place baking cups into muffin tin and spoon batter into cups. Bake for 18-20 minutes or until toothpick inserted into center comes out clean. Transfer to wire rack; cool completely before frosting.<br />
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<b>Frosting</b><br />
1/2 c. butter, softened<br />
3 oz. cream cheese, softened<br />
16 oz. powdered sugar (would someone please tell me how many cups this is??)<br />
1/4 c. eggnog<br />
1/2 tsp. nutmeg<br />
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract<br />
<br />
Beat butter and cream cheese until creamy. Gradually add powdered sugar alternating with eggnog, beginning and ending with sugar and beating at low speed. Add nutmeg and vanilla extract and beat until smooth. Spread over cupcakes.<br />
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<a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="christine sig" border="0" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-83677997489915112762010-12-15T09:12:00.001-06:002010-12-15T10:50:49.524-06:00Little clouds of Christmas.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Eggnog Cupcakes.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wouldn't these make cute Christmas tree ornaments?</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But then I wouldn't get to taste one since they'd be all petrified or made of wood. And there's two cups of 'nog in there that makes them taste like a little bit of heaven.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You want the recipe? I suppose that would be the responsible blogger thing to do. But I've never put myself in that category. And the recipe is all the way in the, um, kitchen. And I'm not getting up just yet.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Besides, if I'm going to start bloggin' again I have to streeetttch out my material. The responsible bloggers, they give you complete and detailed posts, all at once. With a lot of detailed photos detailing processes. Details, details, details...</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We flaky bloggers can't be bothered with details. Or completeness.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Unless you count my little cupcake friends...they're pretty complete, I'd say.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDoM6k5NXdG710VVV8f6Tv2bAEbD0X_M-ityldtT00Krw1S62WQVkKOagcpKmNPZRn5O-6kOwbhN5rS3w7VP7L03gFLfKPSz2sLtqO0TEWUvDWwAqMtRhrEgXLdEjrpGrDnIgiag/s1600/DSC08110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDoM6k5NXdG710VVV8f6Tv2bAEbD0X_M-ityldtT00Krw1S62WQVkKOagcpKmNPZRn5O-6kOwbhN5rS3w7VP7L03gFLfKPSz2sLtqO0TEWUvDWwAqMtRhrEgXLdEjrpGrDnIgiag/s640/DSC08110.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><img alt="christine sig" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" />Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-16067513326037741312010-12-14T14:35:00.000-06:002010-12-14T14:35:02.394-06:00An exchange I won't hear but will happen. Guaranteed.Mom #1: Did you see Christine just now?<br />
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Mom #2: Just said hi to her in the hallway.<br />
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Mom #1: So you just saw the front of her, not the back?<br />
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Mom #2: Yeah, why?<br />
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Mom #1: Seriously?! Well, someone must have finally broken the news to her about scrunchies.<br />
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Mom #2: Nooooo! Really?!! Are you sure??<br />
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Mom #1: If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'! She's NOT wearing a scrunchie today.<br />
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Mom #2: Wow, and she even knows how outdated they are because I think she's seen that Seinfeld episode about the girl with the velvet scrunchie...from like 1994 or so?<br />
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<i>(laughter from both) </i><br />
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Mom #1: I know, back when we were in junior high?!<br />
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<i>(more laughter)</i><br />
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Mom #2: I really thought I'd never see the day she didn't wear one.<br />
Mom #1: I know.<br />
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(pause)<br />
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Mom #2: Think we should save her from those black jeans?<br />
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<a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="christine sig" border="0" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-25360369254523370102010-12-09T22:21:00.000-06:002010-12-09T22:21:21.048-06:00Hello, friend.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We moved into our current house in July. Of 2009. I sacrificed some kitchen space to get square footage in other parts of the house, and one of the casualties was my Kitchen Aid mixer. It's my favorite possession, next to my wedding ring. And my photos. And my Burt's Bees lip balm. I think there's a reason "possession" and "obsession" sound alike.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But when we moved and I started settling into the new kitchen, I didn't measure it but I'm sure my counter space was cut in half. So I boxed up The Mixer and stored it in our (freaking small and dark) pantry where it's been ever since. I've missed it, but I bought a Kitchen Aid hand-held mixer which helped me heal from the trauma.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then last night at a church dinner, someone asked a group of us moms what we'd recommend for a Kitchen Aid model if we were going to buy one. And the conversation ensued. We all had our opinions about what she should get, but there was no doubt about it: those of us who are already KA mixer owners talked about ours like they were permanent family pets.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So today I began shoving and moving and crowding, and brought her out of hiding. Now she's ruling my kitchen from the (only) corner of my countertop, right where she should be. I'm thinking about finally installing under-cabinet lighting now.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Don't you think she deserves it?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7vL80MqRvEPrWnH0aWdhLKbPNqfh-3C21vNwva40eKKuKnC7MPg_MZPPRZH_XkGzTE8LHhyphenhypheni5xYppdSgP9trgPdBFo6XSKPt9h5wwXRx6wM4V_Ll3kvvFYt92RGUCP0hMhJx8g/s640/DSC08046.JPG" width="640" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="christine sig" border="0" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28415386.post-7809170266565725302010-12-07T10:24:00.000-06:002010-12-07T10:24:26.728-06:00One year.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A year ago today I was driving down 51st St. here in Tulsa with Cooper in the back seat. It was about 9:30 a.m. My cell phone rang and I glanced down to see it was my sister Judy, who works full time and never has time to call me during the day even if she wanted to...you know, to share a recipe or something. So I knew something was up and didn't hesitate a second before I picked it up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"It's Mamma," she said. "It's a heart attack." And she said it as gently as she could. I don't know how exactly that is, but I think she knew I was driving and she didn't want me to run off the road and I could hear the calmness in her voice.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So immediately I started to frantically try to stay calm and scanned the curb for a cut where I could turn around to go...actually at the time I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to turn around and stop doing what I was doing. Stop going where I was going. Get to somewhere where I could do something right then and there because driving down the road was out of the question.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But there really wasn't anything I could do. I quickly hung up with Judy after I'd gotten the details about Mom's condition. She was in the hospital in her town about an hour away and I should just wait for more info.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Retelling all the details from that day a year ago would simply take me too long. Since our immediate family is so big, a lot of the time was spent on the phone relaying information as we got it. We soon set up texting and call "trees," so no one person had to call ten people. As we got the news of Mom being helicoptered to Tulsa, I called my friend Amy who omigosh came to my rescue taking care of Carson and Cooper since Dwayne was out of town that day. As a family, we talked to so many doctors and other medical people and tried to figure out how and why it happened and what lies ahead for our mom since she's now become a member of the cardiac patient club.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Skip ahead. One year and a lot of doctor's visits and tests and other complications later.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzyA6snU6n87KglUZTwLAcuiXu6gGh0LN4hosmK9Xj1hq4pZGQ0Vx59QGRpat2r19rP3p5bpQH5haN0D9CV5tybFIzr1-UrnVxaBrp8A7yPBmDCUWtsGQUkdgvo9kngKh4MuNL-Q/s640/DSC07452.JPG" width="640" /> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>You could say she's recovering nicely.<br />
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It's been a long year for her, to be sure. She's had to change a lot of things in her lifestyle and start putting herself first. I imagine that's hard after a lifetime of taking care of so many people...family as well as friends.<br />
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But she's getting there. And one year later she's trying to do too much for Christmas once again. And she's not going to like reading that since that means her kids are going to start nagging her about taking it easy.<br />
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Ahhhh, all things back to normal...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="christine sig" border="0" height="40" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4442517418_41795cd3f5_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585015728899053831noreply@blogger.com3