tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-194253342024-03-07T02:27:14.635-07:00Teacher, Mom, Mad WomanJust your average, ordinary, recoving infertile, mother, English teaching lady.Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-11792306375123243852011-02-22T20:52:00.002-07:002011-02-22T20:56:00.650-07:00A new homeI have a new blog. I now blog at <a href="http://hatbyhat.blogspot.com/">http://hatbyhat.blogspot.com</a>.Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-27832336494367379072009-04-13T19:31:00.002-07:002009-04-13T19:42:10.538-07:00Another Camden Update<span style="font-size:85%;">Some of you may have been following my saga of Camden and trying to figure out what is causing him to behave so miserably in public and in large groups. Our district preschool enrolled him a few months ago to observe him more. They called me last week to discuss their observations with me. I knew he was struggling, but again, I did not realize the severity of the struggles.<br /><br />Camden's social skills are low for his age. To make it harder on the poor boy, he is as tall as most 5 and 6 year olds, but he is barely turning 4, so people think he is older than he is and expect him to behave like an older child. To make it even harder, he is about a year ahead in his language skills, so that throws people off too. The observer told me Camden does not play "with" other kids. He will play next to them, but not with them. I never realized that he wasn't actually playing with other children. His only real interaction with the children at preschool is to be aggressive and confrontational. He will seek out adults and ignore the other children while at school.<br /><br />The special education evaluator and I had a long talk. I asked her flat out if there was a chance Camden had Asperger syndrome. She said she thinks that is a real possibility and I should discuss it with his pediatrician. Although I threw that word out there, I truly did not expect to hear that yes, the observing team had talked about that word in relationship to Camden for quite awhile. It is devestating to hear. I do worry for his future. While I think he will go far in life, I worry about his social life and how school will be for him. It's hard enough in this world without adding in having a hard time socially.<br /><br />The special education teacher did point out that he may just be socially behind and it may resolve itself over the next few years. She also pointed out that he is the oldest child and used to being around adults, so maybe he just doesn't know how to handle social situations yet or prefers talking to adults because that is what he knows. <br /><br />We have an appointment with Camden't pediatrician in a week. Hopefully after talking to him we can get some answers, or even just some clear direction of what to do next. No matter what, he is still my beautiful, intelligent, wonderful little boy. As his mother, I will fight to help him become the best he can be. </span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-11974016214144888612009-03-22T19:11:00.007-07:002009-03-22T19:34:13.092-07:00Beauty School Dropout<span style="font-size:85%;">I learned this weekend that I should stick to teaching and leave any future hair cuts to the experts. My babies don't get much hair until about the age of one. Camden's </span><span style="font-size:85%;">hair grew in nicely, but Easton has had some funky hair stuff going on. I call it his "old man hair" because it s</span><span style="font-size:85%;">ticks up in tufts, grows well in spots but not in others, and is thin and wispy. For weeks I have wanted to even it out, to som</span><span style="font-size:85%;">ehow make it look better, but left it alone hoping it would get better in time. On Friday night, I decided that was it.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> I wa</span><span style="font-size:85%;">s going to trim up the super long stuff over his ears and on top of his head. One minor detail - I've never done it before.<br /><br />I asked Mark to grab me his razor. I thought I would just shave a little off the sides and top and call it good. I grabbed the razors and started in the middle of Easton's head. After </span><span style="font-size:85%;">the first stroke, I noticed my mistake. I had no guard to prevent me from getting too close. So now, with hu</span><span style="font-size:85%;">ge bal</span><span style="font-size:85%;">d chu</span><span style="font-size:85%;">cks in the middle of his head, it became pretty obvious that all his hair was going to have to come off to correct my mistake. I took a deep breath and set to work. In about five minutes, Easton was completely bald! It's a good thing he has a good head shape for a bald hair cut. I only hope it will grow in looking better than it did before.<br /><br />Easton pre hair cut. See how weird and tufty his hair was growing?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JUtJGQLjlV4wWT86aCLpL4CTV8HvsYHFxn5F1cCZfOjFiXOgfTxGUZaZYpvkPnCE9mMqpa3j-BEVJg0oyt60fNNEl6uyldiMN2r-YZyy1HlwfTuKJb_gFFVBlFEu3gZyFmYhyQ/s1600-h/P1010742.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JUtJGQLjlV4wWT86aCLpL4CTV8HvsYHFxn5F1cCZfOjFiXOgfTxGUZaZYpvkPnCE9mMqpa3j-BEVJg0oyt60fNNEl6uyldiMN2r-YZyy1HlwfTuKJb_gFFVBlFEu3gZyFmYhyQ/s320/P1010742.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316204321068763442" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-5mwQDKCJZShF7_PyDM6Z7b9QsmivfEX_ro4SeVquXQsWUHBHnpvdIUBmKGibMuKHP36iXGOs6ZA6ZHGDs-qS5jUUVdmoRFZiqB-r5Rde__AT5qQ3zRewLgjhqykQpQLmUbJ0g/s1600-h/P1010760.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-5mwQDKCJZShF7_PyDM6Z7b9QsmivfEX_ro4SeVquXQsWUHBHnpvdIUBmKGibMuKHP36iXGOs6ZA6ZHGDs-qS5jUUVdmoRFZiqB-r5Rde__AT5qQ3zRewLgjhqykQpQLmUbJ0g/s320/P1010760.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316204325924315810" border="0" /></a><br />I think he knew what was coming.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqJ2oFZhISyv_BM9fQxUigga5L1ISdfXHpVj4qj9ZIM8AaPxondnlDLDLBtXg2CT4oCdQkj5tVxZmXRB3eHSymSIZPUt8mkja4IJ72OMNdedmPFtIf8B_BG8bTknS2RDI0348TtQ/s1600-h/P1010753.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqJ2oFZhISyv_BM9fQxUigga5L1ISdfXHpVj4qj9ZIM8AaPxondnlDLDLBtXg2CT4oCdQkj5tVxZmXRB3eHSymSIZPUt8mkja4IJ72OMNdedmPFtIf8B_BG8bTknS2RDI0348TtQ/s320/P1010753.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316204967508879026" border="0" /></a><br />Easton post hair cut. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6RmVA3gzzm7IiXIWVu41x1GrzowSEc_jagoYAK-xshkgElu7wNk3-VFnzExjmNHX2ej_WQM6UgQAWqK4zFiGWwMmD760PbKcnrpyIFf_KoogG5O-qvPviB0BqWYfxA7a0PJO4hQ/s1600-h/P1010778.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6RmVA3gzzm7IiXIWVu41x1GrzowSEc_jagoYAK-xshkgElu7wNk3-VFnzExjmNHX2ej_WQM6UgQAWqK4zFiGWwMmD760PbKcnrpyIFf_KoogG5O-qvPviB0BqWYfxA7a0PJO4hQ/s320/P1010778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316204983066985378" border="0" /></a><br />Bald heads are really good for smearing chocolate on. Yum!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGdIUEzhg_e7dJsq7dm4crduzXMpMgyBG4XNmTPD19XS_fxA5yPieW9BnB_e_8f9_K3r8h9doM9Rzan9jc2d7vwWRX6heHaiKB0F-pvZkzQoITwaV0nszIHWgPOaSGoIQ2qJi8g/s1600-h/P1010781.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGdIUEzhg_e7dJsq7dm4crduzXMpMgyBG4XNmTPD19XS_fxA5yPieW9BnB_e_8f9_K3r8h9doM9Rzan9jc2d7vwWRX6heHaiKB0F-pvZkzQoITwaV0nszIHWgPOaSGoIQ2qJi8g/s320/P1010781.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316205526122411154" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-ekVPHfObo-kCRaaquzYAfaa9vj7wWxYhb8N3_yTEtcnWWDaO8gyYg4hfc9zaozr6_QV6i_zu3oRBAkeKiSWdJaYermoLO1FNBqSNhyphenhyphenFdHb_INksoBMdJZSeEkeffN3Bv72JYA/s1600-h/P1010785.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-ekVPHfObo-kCRaaquzYAfaa9vj7wWxYhb8N3_yTEtcnWWDaO8gyYg4hfc9zaozr6_QV6i_zu3oRBAkeKiSWdJaYermoLO1FNBqSNhyphenhyphenFdHb_INksoBMdJZSeEkeffN3Bv72JYA/s320/P1010785.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316205535622640930" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-17143687263059546092009-03-03T11:04:00.002-07:002009-03-03T11:10:00.953-07:00Do you facebook?<span style="font-size:85%;">I admit, my blog has been a neglected thing in the past several months. I think about it often, but never quite muster the energy to come and blog. Why? Well, the excuses are many, but the one that saps most of my extra time these days is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">facebook</span>. I love that thing! There are so many useless games like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Yoville</span> or Mafia Wars that I find myself checking again and again. Then there are the fun notes passed around. On top of that are status updates, which are my favorite part of it all. I read all of them daily because it's like a little snapshot into the lives of so many friends. So do you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">facebook</span>? And if you do, are you on my friends list? If you are not and would like to be added, send me an email with your name and I'll be sure to add you. Then I can at least keep updated with your life until I get the urge to get back into blogging a bit more.</span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-53163984850954280482009-02-25T12:29:00.002-07:002009-02-25T12:39:34.048-07:00The Stapler lives!<span style="font-size:85%;">Remember when I posted about my industrial strength staplers about three years ago? Mentioned in <a href="http://teachergoingmad.blogspot.com/2006/03/post-in-which-you-are-glad-your-child.html">this post</a>? A few friends said it was one of their favorites. So I thought I'd reshare the story for those who want a laugh. Because I know I need one these days. And let you all know, the staplers still live! In fact, they made a stapler shooter appearance just today. They still have the power and the force. And even better, I no longer shoot myself in the finger!</span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-85031376439894809682009-02-09T09:08:00.002-07:002009-02-09T09:14:59.079-07:00Update on Camden<span style="font-size:85%;">We got the results for Camden's evaluation a few weeks ago. Like I expected, he is above average in language and in academic skills. On social and emotional, he was below average, but not enough to qualify for services at this point. However, the preschool was concerned enough about his behavior and sound issues that they want to observe him further. They are enrolling him in the preschool on a temporary basis to evaluate him further. They will have the occupational therapist evaluate him for sensory disorders. No matter what, even if he doesn't qualify for services this year, he is on the waiting list for a spot in the preschool next year, which pretty much means he'll get in as a tuition paying student next school year. I am glad they are being so thorough. Camden had a beautiful streak in behavior, but in the past few weeks, we've started to get bad reports from the gym daycare again and last week he had to leave Primary. I hope that the preschool will be able to see our concerns during his temporary enrollment. I feel we are on the right track.</span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-2114804228920500772009-01-19T20:22:00.004-07:002009-01-19T20:55:16.355-07:00Always changing . . .<span style="font-size:85%;">It seems like the boys change so rapidly that I have to record all the little things before they slip away and I forget.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Easton</span> is changing like crazy. He took his first steps right after the new year and has been unstoppable ever since. Most babies wait until they can balance rather well to walk. Not <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Eastie</span>! Once he started taking steps, he was off and is already trying to run. Each day his balance gets better, but it sure has been funny to watch him figure it all out. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Easton</span> also figured out how to get up and down the stairs. This kid is a problem solver and doesn't give up. He will try again and again until he gets it perfect and that's what he did with figuring out the stairs. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Easton</span> is signing "milk", "dog", and "ball" and is trying to figure out how to sign "eat" (right now he keeps patting his head). I think he is going to be really good at the "terrible two's" since he is already throwing himself on the floor when he doesn't get his way or what he wants. We always know when <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Eastie</span> is causing mischief because he growls as he starts his capers. He is still full of laughs and smiles and is still our sunshine.<br /><br />At the end of December, a mutual decision was made with Camden's preschool teacher to remove him from preschool for the time being. He was having as many bad days as good days and the stress was wearing on us all. After the advice of many friends, I've been reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Raising-Your-Spirited-Child-Rev/dp/0060739665/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1232422366&sr=8-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">Raising your Spirited Child</span></a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Out-Sync-Child-Recognizing-Processing/dp/0399531653/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1232422447&sr=8-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Out of Sync Child</span></a>. Both of these books have been a tremendous help to me. I see much of Camden in the descriptions found in these books. It's been reassuring to realize that my son is normal, just a bit more sensitive and spirited than the average child. In addition to helping me understand my son better, they have helped teach me strategies and activities to use with Cam. We're seeing a lot of improvement in him at home and in public situations. I'm learning what sets him off and what to do help him. I'm also learning strategies to help him help himself. Now instead of hitting, he will tell me he is angry and what he needs to do to calm down. I'm thrilled to be able to understand him better and be a better parent to him. It has been downright awesome to see my beautiful boy blossom, thrive, and mature before my eyes. His imagination, intelligence, and creativity astound me. <br /><br />We had his preschool evaluation last Friday. I prayed that it would go well and that the evaluators would be able to know my concerns for him. I knew he would pass the academic parts with flying colors and wondered how they could evaluate my behavior and sensory concerns. It may seem small, but I know the Lord heard and answered my prayers because Camden went into what I call "classic Camden" when confronted with noise. The speech therapist wanted to test his hearing. I was filling out paperwork and not paying much attention, but the speech therapist wanted to put something in his ear and he freaked out! He ran screaming from the room and went into full Camden melt down. I took him outside and calmed him down. The therapist skipped the hearing test and instead sat and talked to me. She asked if this was a typical behavior and I told her yes. I explained my concerns to her and what had happened in his last preschool. Without me even bringing it up, she mentioned a sensory processing disorder, mentioned occupational therapy, and talked to me for a bit about that. It was such confirmation to me, that my concerns have been right on the money. I only wish I had of followed through on my instincts months ago. I don't know if he will qualify for the preschool, but if not, I have the number of another evaluation service to call. I am praying that he will qualify for services at the preschool and be able to learn coping strategies for his noise issues.<br /><br />I am grateful to be a mom to these beautiful boys. I'm grateful for the opportunity to become a better mother. I know these children have been placed in my life specifically to teach me how to be a better parent - more patient, loving, and kind. I am very grateful for all the good friends who have listened to my concerns without judging, who have given me advice, and put me on the paths to understanding my son better. I'm grateful for all the prayers and best wishes on behalf of my child and myself. I truly feel them and they have helped when I have questioned my parenting and my own self worth as a mother. </span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-34216415041491723292009-01-13T11:05:00.008-07:002009-01-13T11:20:58.968-07:00Christmas 2008<span style="font-size:85%;">Sure it's almost a month after Christmas, but it's never too late for a Christmas post. So here are pictures from our Christmas shindig.<br /><br />Camden eating chocolate while waiting for grandparents </span><span style="font-size:85%;">to arrive before opening presents.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2dcO5mbZl44U6xY-r9NDE2aBdZNDt551NQPAVAKsAl_5UWmynTxkGXAKmx4AlezwX6GSD1a6mmRJ6a7Ohup02JJNr9M7HbJpjE-0fn5yb_rQjPdq5T1p9MTnyKpMwZNxYkjNe9g/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2dcO5mbZl44U6xY-r9NDE2aBdZNDt551NQPAVAKsAl_5UWmynTxkGXAKmx4AlezwX6GSD1a6mmRJ6a7Ohup02JJNr9M7HbJpjE-0fn5yb_rQjPdq5T1p9MTnyKpMwZNxYkjNe9g/s320/Christmas+2008+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290842887688073426" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Easton with his new bead maze. Melissa and Doug toys are the best!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgCqUCbZEi5AeNauDaF_cvBfAPqZc3H7oGqYV3SjdIYv1_D1J743JCmcUVoO-KwzLOrvJedgKKLU9aRNEdHqTzHxaXxf-bcZD-WkiXG4hI8Qmm2T4_etM7al8te8Ye7qkVSXiKpA/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgCqUCbZEi5AeNauDaF_cvBfAPqZc3H7oGqYV3SjdIYv1_D1J743JCmcUVoO-KwzLOrvJedgKKLU9aRNEdHqTzHxaXxf-bcZD-WkiXG4hI8Qmm2T4_etM7al8te8Ye7qkVSXiKpA/s320/Christmas+2008+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290843047579127746" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Camden opening his big Santa present.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDL1MZq1AsK8HQWoE2mQIqlMqtDZFzWzAijbeTR9YgwZgaJ5R4m6O-5ghvkMV1s4lA1d_UsMkaaDexh8CsguwocAUyfCcD1GZXtPkqBUvjQJmDa6pXj-hhutq6ilg0kDFVhY0H0A/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDL1MZq1AsK8HQWoE2mQIqlMqtDZFzWzAijbeTR9YgwZgaJ5R4m6O-5ghvkMV1s4lA1d_UsMkaaDexh8CsguwocAUyfCcD1GZXtPkqBUvjQJmDa6pXj-hhutq6ilg0kDFVhY0H0A/s320/Christmas+2008+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290843258184020738" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">It's a big wooden train! (Which has seriously have to be the best present he has ever received. He plays with it for HOURS!)</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ok44gYuUBOUGv4WGJwGAIb6BVRnbyrK2UwjOkwslK8iOedtL1KtxxslppY-K3lI9Trd7VdF3a5BV5luxbDpslFJLqIUO0x40H3oVX2Beq-UJ7shStnFh_o1s7O6nvrWb-OC0rQ/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+011.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ok44gYuUBOUGv4WGJwGAIb6BVRnbyrK2UwjOkwslK8iOedtL1KtxxslppY-K3lI9Trd7VdF3a5BV5luxbDpslFJLqIUO0x40H3oVX2Beq-UJ7shStnFh_o1s7O6nvrWb-OC0rQ/s320/Christmas+2008+011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290843408997823778" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Easton opening presents with the help of Daddy. Eastie didn't get the whole Christmas thing. One present and he was done. He was happy with things the way they were and kept crawling off to play with all the old toys.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_A-BBwJpwwPOXjA3zJZBZI4N-oqeEWG0-ZUr39OXx39oSpy0AKTQijVJDnpsHSMJ8ytB-0PGogH8BMUFl77WYUIDM1DcUD5uCpC02nLAOkyqENjubtTErdlNDIAPVMFxHdSSgCw/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_A-BBwJpwwPOXjA3zJZBZI4N-oqeEWG0-ZUr39OXx39oSpy0AKTQijVJDnpsHSMJ8ytB-0PGogH8BMUFl77WYUIDM1DcUD5uCpC02nLAOkyqENjubtTErdlNDIAPVMFxHdSSgCw/s320/Christmas+2008+015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290843751530335250" border="0" /></a><br />The boys playing - and Christmas aftermath. It seemed like we hadn't bought them all that much - until it was open and spread all over the floor.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIukBTsCGsyP5ZSjPhs9XwFTr-l05vtXsnq1pkuY0l-Ogrwwe2zyfVWZzQQDpZ7AFrtL2GMVZoyw_aZ0C83X1t4XOxVs_m9fBAJo5CZ8n3O8FB6vLSvawXIcb8F4fXksan2U1TSQ/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+014.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIukBTsCGsyP5ZSjPhs9XwFTr-l05vtXsnq1pkuY0l-Ogrwwe2zyfVWZzQQDpZ7AFrtL2GMVZoyw_aZ0C83X1t4XOxVs_m9fBAJo5CZ8n3O8FB6vLSvawXIcb8F4fXksan2U1TSQ/s320/Christmas+2008+014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290844153870898642" border="0" /></a><br />Camden later that day after all the mess was cleaned up and his train all put together. He loves that thing!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikl6BvHWh3Z3URn-G4e8zHuoHB2xYTg8ojeZw8NSziwxkx4KgzTXhq8rW9BBUlmzLvHhzkHbD0ZjG2CEEPy4EpISadpJaowOQ1hqHXRSmwRIXaa2UtAFN1fSH_rmm1DysXZyuHIw/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+019.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikl6BvHWh3Z3URn-G4e8zHuoHB2xYTg8ojeZw8NSziwxkx4KgzTXhq8rW9BBUlmzLvHhzkHbD0ZjG2CEEPy4EpISadpJaowOQ1hqHXRSmwRIXaa2UtAFN1fSH_rmm1DysXZyuHIw/s320/Christmas+2008+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290844701144829954" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><br /></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-87251927073465876542008-12-16T11:22:00.013-07:002008-12-16T14:04:45.623-07:00Easton's first birthday<span style="font-size:85%;">Easton officially turns one tomorrow (sniff, sniff! Where has the time gone?), but we celebrated last week. Easton threw up the day before his party and the day after, so I don't think h</span><span style="font-size:85%;">e was feeling his best on his special day. You'll see for yourself how thrilled he was at the whole thing, especiall</span><span style="font-size:85%;">y</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> the cake.<br /><br />Easton will grandma, waiting for the festivities to start. He looks </span><span style="font-size:85%;">so excited right?<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXg0OaLfWAuQLT0gy6Kf9sLgfZIy_LBoD0dr6yMuoSTMDSlx51M2N1kano08p4nhpspmsktssnqWl1QBbo_n-9w9anGJRhvzcsTLuzjUMZccewhDfH8ucRsNFWul3Uo22D7Nv52g/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXg0OaLfWAuQLT0gy6Kf9sLgfZIy_LBoD0dr6yMuoSTMDSlx51M2N1kano08p4nhpspmsktssnqWl1QBbo_n-9w9anGJRhvzcsTLuzjUMZccewhDfH8ucRsNFWul3Uo22D7Nv52g/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280455732657109330" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Pile of presents and other random bits of interesting things left from Camden.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_31E4rxMAtK0C9XSszKpDKRAcwGroM0257St0kl2mS6PoeoEqcaPtonWFbd_DqnryswOpJOW56OQSSTiygaQ2LuvsePIw53ekxwTVQLkj4oljKzW8yVTgT_kNKLt9tpfxLLEJtw/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_31E4rxMAtK0C9XSszKpDKRAcwGroM0257St0kl2mS6PoeoEqcaPtonWFbd_DqnryswOpJOW56OQSSTiygaQ2LuvsePIw53ekxwTVQLkj4oljKzW8yVTgT_kNKLt9tpfxLLEJtw/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280455929785207890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Opening presents with Camden's help. Easton loves to tear paper, but we never let him, so I think he was a little shocked that we actually encouraged him to do so.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl4eL14cqBto2w_d6FVsvRh8-30RRXRtOXKtx2Zu5TUgZavpKTOq3jfbnENuiasvOm-yEpxQmtnbROOsN3cnrv4orvsqExRkFSax0IqtMCJLBjemRIvcmKYyErIC0xjYG98W8rxw/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+010.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl4eL14cqBto2w_d6FVsvRh8-30RRXRtOXKtx2Zu5TUgZavpKTOq3jfbnENuiasvOm-yEpxQmtnbROOsN3cnrv4orvsqExRkFSax0IqtMCJLBjemRIvcmKYyErIC0xjYG98W8rxw/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280456204571830354" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Finally getting into it and having fun.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs9oCzTCV2cYcnhNduJYDOU1Aq3hPkYRUtuoLpI1UpSk1H66m_sz5fgx2fsB4T5CIevUc9JzSWcFhLCxk4UPzIFvL-zKLp0RWKgCRVGG0viHV9d8kjugkatWicDrV8bkmJphPdzg/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+013.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs9oCzTCV2cYcnhNduJYDOU1Aq3hPkYRUtuoLpI1UpSk1H66m_sz5fgx2fsB4T5CIevUc9JzSWcFhLCxk4UPzIFvL-zKLp0RWKgCRVGG0viHV9d8kjugkatWicDrV8bkmJphPdzg/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280456540012196098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />One of my students bought Eastie this hat. I loved it so much that I made him w</span><span style="font-size:85%;">ear it for the rest of his presents.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXtYCEUSuaBEHTau7Anty3Wpij6EgFPjRtUxF_XsAmbcZtdhis7URT6bQcmILAn9yDmVCPWwJOaufXDXjHsgF3M2DkErWNw8nBX8qettQzoV4ijq9wUQ9e7Lj5B9ZvZf4wa-TtQ/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+020.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXtYCEUSuaBEHTau7Anty3Wpij6EgFPjRtUxF_XsAmbcZtdhis7URT6bQcmILAn9yDmVCPWwJOaufXDXjHsgF3M2DkErWNw8nBX8qettQzoV4ijq9wUQ9e7Lj5B9ZvZf4wa-TtQ/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280456908151767714" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Easton with his favorite gift of the event.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27MwSEqkhG-0gLpbPiPgQVmIZdoyVuPfy__lk2OXzxcl9aHO-bXp5X0JOGQoDOCOya2556naIu6ahuFU2iD8hHw5tKi5tQ9bU03eKcgDGA7sSO6tj7R7d_dS9Y78pULELfXcW1w/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+023.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27MwSEqkhG-0gLpbPiPgQVmIZdoyVuPfy__lk2OXzxcl9aHO-bXp5X0JOGQoDOCOya2556naIu6ahuFU2iD8hHw5tKi5tQ9bU03eKcgDGA7sSO6tj7R7d_dS9Y78pULELfXcW1w/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280457274646427890" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The cake! We call Easton our sunshine because he is such a happy, smiley boy, so we felt it was only appropriate his cake be a sun. Mark and I had a lot of fun making an</span><span style="font-size:85%;">d dec</span><span style="font-size:85%;">orating this cake.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKmq0Np5le3Ux0X6siqzGvibYB7Ni6kYE3m9zoHq3ke7MJQbz_M2wpvX_KQmgpxx4eccfOQLlQ5NQPxLqbdmckljdgm08Qs9frsZw86q4O_PnttF9f5DUSSU8yunLKEhUH_kRqJw/s1600-h/Fall+20008+052.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKmq0Np5le3Ux0X6siqzGvibYB7Ni6kYE3m9zoHq3ke7MJQbz_M2wpvX_KQmgpxx4eccfOQLlQ5NQPxLqbdmckljdgm08Qs9frsZw86q4O_PnttF9f5DUSSU8yunLKEhUH_kRqJw/s320/Fall+20008+052.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280457614864404562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Easton was less than enamored with the whole cake thing.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWogswpOrq_5IwJfK6koCwh3bc-QBVFCyhWCI01FKrAk9lLK2wbMXStL4jlMbY3nVLqB0i1_9ls-Cw3DN-j8OFjtowy7N6pxvs1Wivh2WgMkegYrmR3B8TwIfcnrwX_DA-dj4ew/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+027.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWogswpOrq_5IwJfK6koCwh3bc-QBVFCyhWCI01FKrAk9lLK2wbMXStL4jlMbY3nVLqB0i1_9ls-Cw3DN-j8OFjtowy7N6pxvs1Wivh2WgMkegYrmR3B8TwIfcnrwX_DA-dj4ew/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280491774163958690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Easton didn't understand what he should do with the whole cake thing, so Daddy stepped in to help.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6wjoAXJUeiyE3oWL7wMmUPJ5132sSAKhlxZl75N8mIeDvijMQyg-rBVpAywdrgc1F-tkag10t3EuPE2cQHW5SVLck8x2x5nxNUrgVY89hCC5R5PRQiRWIsT3znFl5snAHN3RGlg/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+029.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6wjoAXJUeiyE3oWL7wMmUPJ5132sSAKhlxZl75N8mIeDvijMQyg-rBVpAywdrgc1F-tkag10t3EuPE2cQHW5SVLck8x2x5nxNUrgVY89hCC5R5PRQiRWIsT3znFl5snAHN3RGlg/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+029.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280492093541211170" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Easton didn't like the feel of the frosting on his fingers, so he thought throwing it on the dog was a great option.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCqPct6Sfnt3YREVtD-4pG0uW7UC6RxD-KY418R8Jbl82kutyctG6YXCGsYusutr1JXaclQTKt_Pc6h7Eib3gKZ7_mdRcbP7b1k3rWQFwsfoIHo2finIk-84-41WhT2_uX9wwhjQ/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+030.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCqPct6Sfnt3YREVtD-4pG0uW7UC6RxD-KY418R8Jbl82kutyctG6YXCGsYusutr1JXaclQTKt_Pc6h7Eib3gKZ7_mdRcbP7b1k3rWQFwsfoIHo2finIk-84-41WhT2_uX9wwhjQ/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280494847965983618" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Cutting the cake into pieces didn't make it any better.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDSdy1_G85N2W7CHvmDItKMol_rPC2DG-ezehiVEMApelWdR9Z4XxU9gV9l5K84IKQuVpt6qjqc7nIuS_ZelrrLzY7sMdX4fVY0VwNAwc9S2lLUqO2n1x8Bo3LeeWBguAA38DfQ/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+033.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDSdy1_G85N2W7CHvmDItKMol_rPC2DG-ezehiVEMApelWdR9Z4XxU9gV9l5K84IKQuVpt6qjqc7nIuS_ZelrrLzY7sMdX4fVY0VwNAwc9S2lLUqO2n1x8Bo3LeeWBguAA38DfQ/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280495266075538754" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />I tried to feed him bites of cake, thinking that would get him interested, but you can see how well that turned out (and I don't know why the flash decided to stop working here).</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEy_wdG6NadmezCpAtZBl6el8uqs7EtENMc-BnDTcgT4Yh3r4kMQg2NTLfvngpTAxSfwOofsP9t7YnE46XDD4YCDsmg0sSPmcxWZ0P3crKuqWosblpN4o5HjDALH0R7pTVPhkGwQ/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+035.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEy_wdG6NadmezCpAtZBl6el8uqs7EtENMc-BnDTcgT4Yh3r4kMQg2NTLfvngpTAxSfwOofsP9t7YnE46XDD4YCDsmg0sSPmcxWZ0P3crKuqWosblpN4o5HjDALH0R7pTVPhkGwQ/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+035.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280495569523880162" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Yeah, that whole eating cake thing didn't turn out so well. Neither of my boys have eaten their cakes on their birthday. I promise it is good cake really! In his defense, he got sick the next morning, so that may have been why we got such great first birthday cake pictures.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3AyIX9mJ_7XYX5YUOcR0HsuL1dJzWbjEVKiMPkmcMs1nz3a5v_WNSWvY-j3n9GB2FrbflIDEYWwyolePWnhpuFCmr_S8V8IvTr0zhFHPLtkBH9VyIvvn6l0o9hhHpeyQxewCrmw/s1600-h/Easton's+first+birthday+038.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3AyIX9mJ_7XYX5YUOcR0HsuL1dJzWbjEVKiMPkmcMs1nz3a5v_WNSWvY-j3n9GB2FrbflIDEYWwyolePWnhpuFCmr_S8V8IvTr0zhFHPLtkBH9VyIvvn6l0o9hhHpeyQxewCrmw/s320/Easton's+first+birthday+038.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280496095615736514" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-39922862305297158302008-12-10T15:20:00.002-07:002008-12-10T15:24:28.683-07:00Hard news to hear<span style="font-size:85%;">Sometimes being a mother can break your heart.</span><span style=";font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-size:85%;">Not long after my last post about <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Camden</st1:place></st1:city>, I received a phone call from his preschool that shattered my world.</span><span style=";font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-size:85%;">His preschool teacher called me to pick him up because he was behaving in an awful way.</span><span style=";font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-size:85%;">I talked to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Camden</st1:place></st1:city> about it when I got home from work that day and could tell he felt terrible about it.</span><span style=";font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-size:85%;">Because she had mentioned that he had a bad day before, I called her to find out what was going on.</span><span style=";font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-size:85%;">As his mother, I want to be informed of what is going on so that I can deal with any behaviors or issues at home.</span><span style=";font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-size:85%;">What she told me left me stunned and broken hearted for my little boy.</span><span style=";font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-size:85%;">I learned the little boy I so love and adore at home is completely different in a larger group.</span><span style=";font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-size:85%;">More than that, he’s the kid all teachers dread and nobody wants in a classroom. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /><br /></o:p>The preschool teacher told me <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Camden</st1:place></st1:city> is very immature for his age.<span style=""> </span>Although a very intelligent little boy, she said he is socially and behaviorally immature.<span style=""> </span>I was told he takes toys from other kids, pushes, hits, kicks, and crowds in line.<span style=""> </span>He knocks over towers that other kids build and bullies them.<span style=""> </span>He throws fits when he doesn’t get his way or if he doesn’t get to go first at something.<span style=""> </span>He doesn’t listen to instructions and won’t help clean up toys.<span style=""> </span>When put in time out, he hits, screams, and kicks either the teacher or the wall.<span style=""> </span>I was told he will do anything to have the attention on him and it’s usually in negative ways.<span style=""> </span>He’ll get out of time out just to get a toy to throw it or he’ll hit the wall and laugh at her as she adds more time to the clock.<span style=""> </span>The focus becomes on him and she can’t do her lessons or help the other children.<o:p><br /><br /></o:p>Needless to say, I broke down after I got off the phone.<span style=""> </span>Sure we see bits and pieces of this behavior at home.<span style=""> </span>He is three after all, and the first born in the house.<span style=""> </span>But we know how to deal with him and rarely see him as out of control as was described to me. It broke my heart to hear the problems he is having and the problems he creates for others. <span style=""> </span>In small groups and at home, he is well behaved, helpful, and fun.<span style=""> </span>I’ve talked to my friends who watch my child occasionally and was told they rarely, if ever, see this side of him.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, this was the final piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to figure out for months.<span style=""> </span>We’ve gotten similar reports from both the gym daycare and our church nursery (although not as extreme) and have wondered how <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Camden </st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:85%;">really behaves and acts when we are not around.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /><br /></o:p>I’m not sure what to think about it all.<span style=""> </span>I feel like the worst parent in the world who is failing their child.<span style=""> </span>I feel like I must not see him clearly or that there is a side to him that only comes out when a parent is not around.<span style=""> </span>After talking to some friends, they gave me some perspective.<span style=""> </span>Most feel it is related to the sensory issues I have mentioned before.<span style=""> </span>Because of that, we’ve set up an appointment for him to be evaluated at our local preschool.<span style=""> </span>A part of me has felt like I have needed to do this for him for a long time, but I have brushed it off because we can deal with his sensory issues at home and in small groups.<span style=""> </span>Seeing how they appear in large groups, however, has made me realize there may be more going on with my son that I want to admit.<span style=""> </span>I’m very hopeful that our evaluation will be able to help my son and help him learn critical social and behavioral skills he needs for school.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /><br /></o:p>It’s a hard thing to accept that my son has some issues that need to be addressed.<span style=""> </span>It’s even harder because I am an educator and know what it is like to have those students in a classroom.<span style=""> </span>It breaks my heart for my little boy, that so many see him as a behavior problem, instead of seeing his sweet heart and spirit.<span style=""> </span>It’s hard to watch him struggle so much as a three year old to deal with these sensory issues.<span style=""> </span>I feel like I don't know how to teach or discipline my own child in a way that works for him and his issues.<span style=""> </span>It’s hard to watch him be so smart, but yet so affected by so many noises, fears, anxieties, and situations out of mine or his control.<span style=""> </span>He’s a beautiful boy with a good heart.<span style=""> </span>He’s got so much to offer.<span style=""> </span>I just wish that side of him could be seen more than the problems.<span style=""> </span></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-86977504702515054152008-11-14T12:32:00.009-07:002008-11-14T15:01:14.934-07:00My Camdenator<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxyKdrpnnsyASi8fMwpFSeLEpsnVeZhTqUwgQN0hGSFMgp8Qqk11shM37jdrRA0hxr0ovThUJ5mmip6UV-_jVUDJUC_g-kX9KZg4jvFDi5GOBNP_bgeI55MwYimxhkTAWXcZu9g/s1600-h/Rachelle_3108.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxyKdrpnnsyASi8fMwpFSeLEpsnVeZhTqUwgQN0hGSFMgp8Qqk11shM37jdrRA0hxr0ovThUJ5mmip6UV-_jVUDJUC_g-kX9KZg4jvFDi5GOBNP_bgeI55MwYimxhkTAWXcZu9g/s320/Rachelle_3108.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268608913636453522" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">I haven't talked much about my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Camdenator</span> lately, so I decided he needed his own post. This little guy is so much fun! He has developed quite the imagination and loves to tell me stories full of giants, trolls, dragons, pirates, families, and more. It's fun to watch his brain work.<br /><br />I've discovered what an audio learner Camden is. I've known this for awhile, but it's become even more clear to me since he started preschool. If you repeat something to Camden </span><span style="font-size:85%;">a few times, he can repeat it back to you, especially if it's in song. He </span><span style="font-size:85%;">recently learned our phone number this way. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">oth</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;">er day while eating dinner, Camden started reciting the "Pledge of Allegiance." To my surprise, he was able to say it word for word correctly. Apparently they say the pledge in preschool once a week and he memorized it. I know if I read books out loud to him, after a few times, he'll be able to repeat it back to me. I love knowing this fact so that I know how to teach my child as he gets older. Put it to s</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ong</span>, repeat it out loud, and he'll learn it quickly. He has learned all his alphabet sounds this way and will tell you what sound each letter makes.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNioYt8JiBqY-h4jQDOTxw3_b2jC-sIO0kmQD0ghcxDh9Q4BRw3MAVHLp6Pk3gccHgWm8H4RfJ3bPCD85RzSMZLFrQMOQ91t1EPuISCnYjJ-4BtnBwGUFWHlsHD0DSXIh05uK0A/s1600-h/P1010480.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNioYt8JiBqY-h4jQDOTxw3_b2jC-sIO0kmQD0ghcxDh9Q4BRw3MAVHLp6Pk3gccHgWm8H4RfJ3bPCD85RzSMZLFrQMOQ91t1EPuISCnYjJ-4BtnBwGUFWHlsHD0DSXIh05uK0A/s320/P1010480.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268610616025389586" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">I love to listen to Camden talk, especially when he <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">mispronounces</span> a word. I love his "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hambabanger</span>," his "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">tricycple</span>", his "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">banna</span>". He's convinced that the song "We're not Gonna Take it" really says "We are not Naked" and he'll sing these lyrics loudly.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Camden still loves books. He loves to look at books, to be read books, and to hear stories. We recently got him a subscription our church magazine "The Friend" and he loves to look at "his magazine." He is active as can be! Rarely does he sit still for long. He loves to run, play, and especially jump. He loves trains. He almost always chooses a train as a reward when he earns a big reward. He also still loves <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">anim</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">als</span>. It doesn't matter the shape or the size, he loves animals.</span><span style="font-size:85%;">Camden is very sweet and sensitive. He doesn't understand when others are being mean to him. He tries to teach others to share and be nice. He is especially protective of his yo</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">unger</span> brother. Of course he can be rough with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Easton</span>, but for the most part, he wants to cuddle <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Easton</span> and wants him included in everything. If I'm not being nice to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Easton</span> (or a</span><span style="font-size:85%;">s nice as Cam thinks I should be), he'll tell me. He'll also tell others not to say words like "shut up" or "stupid" <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">because</span> they're "not nice."</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnvoLQ39bpk5i7auB55i21WozlwK9wjHRJwNKWUiKltILOf2OQ6yzeKDySu1Who3S_TvijjyfGqS9XG7T6GlJRxhMwyKmeGL9X2Yu2UbGmhheixyfd4tGk01PzY0GVI74nU6yvGw/s1600-h/Family+Pictures+011.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnvoLQ39bpk5i7auB55i21WozlwK9wjHRJwNKWUiKltILOf2OQ6yzeKDySu1Who3S_TvijjyfGqS9XG7T6GlJRxhMwyKmeGL9X2Yu2UbGmhheixyfd4tGk01PzY0GVI74nU6yvGw/s320/Family+Pictures+011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268636389475704338" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Camden is sometimes too sensitive in that he has a lot of fears and anxieties. These have been with him since he was a baby. We're learning how to work with him on these issues, but sometimes it doesn't help. We've had to remove him from a few child care situations because they weren't willing to learn what caused some of his actions (when he is afraid, all bets are off) or how to deal with it. We've learned to steel ourselves for doctor appointments, hair cuts, and many other things. </span><span style="font-size:85%;">He is very sensitive to noise. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"> We've learned that if there is a lot of noise, his behavior will get worse. The hardest part is not <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">dealin</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;">g with his behavior when he is in a situation where he is scared, but to deal with the judgment we get from others. Camden teaches me to be tougher, to have thicker armour when it comes to what others think of him and of our parenting, and to put his needs first over the looks from others.<br /><br />I have to admit, parenting Camden can be challenging. He's stubborn to a fault. He's obstinate and he doesn't always listen well. Dealing with his sensory issues take patience and sometimes I don't have a lot of it. But I am so glad he is mine. Recently I told Camden the story of how he came to our family. Now every night before bed he requests that I tell him "the story of me." I tell him how much we wanted a baby, how much we prayed for a baby, and how sad I was when it didn't happen. I tell him how happy we were when we found out he was coming. Then I tell him of his birth and how overjoyed that made his father and I. Finally I tell him how much I still love him, how I will always love him, and how happy I am that he i</span><span style="font-size:85%;">s my son. And that is true. In spite of the difficulties in parenting sometimes, I am so glad to have Camden in my life. He made me a mom and I am forever grateful for the blessing he is.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgP9pGsbmeX2WTD4pcBrZvXj-MnEcbTyAODhTkHLjXULjRYtIA-tD3B8iyYHaCXofcR5GOYSlfJIxkfmKRXSU6q2b8_UUQEk32bG3thpbcWs1rj_a7AIwCJiGDZthWCdA6OpNEA/s1600-h/8032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgP9pGsbmeX2WTD4pcBrZvXj-MnEcbTyAODhTkHLjXULjRYtIA-tD3B8iyYHaCXofcR5GOYSlfJIxkfmKRXSU6q2b8_UUQEk32bG3thpbcWs1rj_a7AIwCJiGDZthWCdA6OpNEA/s320/8032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268601817440806402" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-74896821618319548772008-10-30T08:16:00.013-07:002008-10-30T08:40:17.067-07:00New family pictures<span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy27EkX2IinOpy5HPtlLNoHVqmjAGXKbM6n6dSyBSrycbscFsy_ZnsY7Hr5fxC0ckUfWzfwRxZqq6Jt6-tiglg54L15mtSFLBRtaSE2viOZlz1kyEPjQPHsGlzEEPsDU3L-7wjmg/s1600-h/8142x.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy27EkX2IinOpy5HPtlLNoHVqmjAGXKbM6n6dSyBSrycbscFsy_ZnsY7Hr5fxC0ckUfWzfwRxZqq6Jt6-tiglg54L15mtSFLBRtaSE2viOZlz1kyEPjQPHsGlzEEPsDU3L-7wjmg/s320/8142x.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262971779022552946" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;">We met with my favorite photographer a few weeks ago to do fa</span><span style="font-size:85%;">mily pictures. I am thrilled with our pictures and want to show them off! These are the first family pictures we've had since Easton joined our family, so it's about time.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">I want to tell you a bit about my photographer because she is </span><span style="font-size:85%;">aweso</span><span style="font-size:85%;">me! I met <a href="http://tinamiera.com/">Tina Miera</a> in the spring and we've done three photo shoots with her now. Each time I am amazed at h</span><span style="font-size:85%;">er work. With two of our photo shoots, Easton has come down with a cold right before and been mis</span><span style="font-size:85%;">erably sick. S</span><span style="font-size:85%;">he still makes him look good! On this day, Easton had a cold and hadn't napped all day, the wind was blowin</span><span style="font-size:85%;">g like crazy, and Camden was being his obstinate self. Still, we got great shots. She works both in Salt Lake and the Uintah Basin, so if you are looking for a photographer, I highly recommend her!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">Cam wouldn't let go of that leaf for anything. I love this background!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh94XzCao_47s0BByZ5UCFQd6SGierYT7YR-whs717RtWheswAUvU9oBHNsFRa91HE5U1rFHafbeW1KwSOAbEF0TrpigShExWa4tIwNJEXFD3-Tu1CLvupUU1zd6oXAPgJElEnlhw/s1600-h/7995.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh94XzCao_47s0BByZ5UCFQd6SGierYT7YR-whs717RtWheswAUvU9oBHNsFRa91HE5U1rFHafbeW1KwSOAbEF0TrpigShExWa4tIwNJEXFD3-Tu1CLvupUU1zd6oXAPgJElEnlhw/s320/7995.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262969911717026642" border="0" /></a><br />She even made me look good. Do you know how long it has been since I looked at a picture of me and liked it? Years I tell you. Years!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFt5VgRH5xAQVZaEy1OZMXj3Kaa5QEI9aggZOqjUIl2b6VUU3Cbxzh0COtS-yTO7sbop4GDh5PlDPsoijHJDm5kTynWohhJK9789i24jiA_XdbPYLzmqgcTJHj1DvAXr9nrNS9mA/s1600-h/8187.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFt5VgRH5xAQVZaEy1OZMXj3Kaa5QEI9aggZOqjUIl2b6VUU3Cbxzh0COtS-yTO7sbop4GDh5PlDPsoijHJDm5kTynWohhJK9789i24jiA_XdbPYLzmqgcTJHj1DvAXr9nrNS9mA/s320/8187.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262971050048060050" border="0" /></a><br />Easton loves to be "Easton upside down cake" as we call it. He was so tired and this was one of the few smiles we got out of him.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQe2ztVtGWaNplmmsHkLtEvNzJQZtgbehtdA8jWOFejwWTw_ZYDsrYTtP-Bvh-4tocG_dETv-yk0qqQpEdhA0TsCMm8-x6qAk1K_bRaSwT_7K7Cgw86NYp1biyerAsv0J7yUi4Gw/s1600-h/8238.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQe2ztVtGWaNplmmsHkLtEvNzJQZtgbehtdA8jWOFejwWTw_ZYDsrYTtP-Bvh-4tocG_dETv-yk0qqQpEdhA0TsCMm8-x6qAk1K_bRaSwT_7K7Cgw86NYp1biyerAsv0J7yUi4Gw/s320/8238.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262970288777463730" border="0" /></a><br />I love those lashes. I've had people tell me this should be a picture for a baby clothing store because he looks all GQ in it.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-ScL_uy3ORafhEYHdBWkjbTVUwulGhdO2gB4fDQ0hZUcyTX4sBmYhq5Am2HjJHBYXlNCzQvvybapPn26YpbJHKVpjbqpeCtWDa3Kmc1gL7h5nicmE1wTITUkvHVqqsaxbPc0ZA/s1600-h/8071.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-ScL_uy3ORafhEYHdBWkjbTVUwulGhdO2gB4fDQ0hZUcyTX4sBmYhq5Am2HjJHBYXlNCzQvvybapPn26YpbJHKVpjbqpeCtWDa3Kmc1gL7h5nicmE1wTITUkvHVqqsaxbPc0ZA/s320/8071.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262971446555559122" border="0" /></a><br />Cam loved her tire swing! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNQjcvnyyVECjggw-8d-HLbzEv_iM7QZ5wYT7DWSPm7qIsv65kvBT2SfVZuSrWoevpZ5i4NdrDx3pSkaXsjLIrAVdOuYsTzkxUHaMV48qsiPBCfyEGyMRhS0Gahn530hWPWEm8w/s1600-h/8037.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNQjcvnyyVECjggw-8d-HLbzEv_iM7QZ5wYT7DWSPm7qIsv65kvBT2SfVZuSrWoevpZ5i4NdrDx3pSkaXsjLIrAVdOuYsTzkxUHaMV48qsiPBCfyEGyMRhS0Gahn530hWPWEm8w/s320/8037.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262970160550823442" border="0" /></a><br />I love my two boys together. Camden is a great older brother.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRt4dvNVNAVSnxHBRdXhyphenhyphenrCRdCiz-n_BHPFBjlv6WulZjQhbyXGxeFSGTHIqPnJDNq02Kkh6wakN41m0lhpkn91P1VQDughvK6qqUTT58_it_H7JtjWaTJhyphenhyphenPS7bobXz7URDJnWg/s1600-h/7967.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRt4dvNVNAVSnxHBRdXhyphenhyphenrCRdCiz-n_BHPFBjlv6WulZjQhbyXGxeFSGTHIqPnJDNq02Kkh6wakN41m0lhpkn91P1VQDughvK6qqUTT58_it_H7JtjWaTJhyphenhyphenPS7bobXz7URDJnWg/s320/7967.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262970052704940354" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbO37kg7SMFuvHNhV8Zx2aBi9J8nhDoIYLNxLEQPWypQhnUNxt37vUe-mjUjfM2qpgro_cwiYk6vRa4wt026gk2d0loGk6K6JwWw-En68LdEMkHsm-7SCWqWvTLT4IWDqeVClTDQ/s1600-h/8105.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbO37kg7SMFuvHNhV8Zx2aBi9J8nhDoIYLNxLEQPWypQhnUNxt37vUe-mjUjfM2qpgro_cwiYk6vRa4wt026gk2d0loGk6K6JwWw-En68LdEMkHsm-7SCWqWvTLT4IWDqeVClTDQ/s320/8105.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262971860535794258" border="0" /></a><br />I LOVE the way mark is looking at me in this picture. Love it!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ShXORbwyLcwspkCQdwm56zVrWq2oE2Ia1qau-b-Igl6DQN84Grfgl3kwsmhSDFkhkuSeUJXOujJcr6a8Qi0jf1_TG8qykfApNN0M3FnIqJMW_9JDQdo4J6YQHglaxIoBBTVUjA/s1600-h/8153-BW.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ShXORbwyLcwspkCQdwm56zVrWq2oE2Ia1qau-b-Igl6DQN84Grfgl3kwsmhSDFkhkuSeUJXOujJcr6a8Qi0jf1_TG8qykfApNN0M3FnIqJMW_9JDQdo4J6YQHglaxIoBBTVUjA/s320/8153-BW.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262970397928292418" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-23174328142593468132008-10-18T20:30:00.002-07:002008-10-18T20:33:39.866-07:00Be careful what you wish for . . .<span style="font-size:85%;">Because you just might get it.<br /><br />I LOVE the mints at our local Pizza Hut. They are cinnamon and delicious and I covet them. I always grab huge handfuls when I go there. If Mark goes and I don't, I make him pick up these mints for me and then I eat them all. I always tell him how much I love these mints. So Mark decided to purchase me a box to surprise me. He thought it would be a small box.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdMha6-TXgaTfoj3lOz4CTCTUHyHrr03bMDpzOIsxnVj1paK34iWthDIfpGaMUDdcIDMxwMEh_Ck9oKHohOWPwrXn6VYyopY9Pd0xzM3JT5azi98yWAXnGW7GWb3X6BuYWl9fxg/s1600-h/409.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdMha6-TXgaTfoj3lOz4CTCTUHyHrr03bMDpzOIsxnVj1paK34iWthDIfpGaMUDdcIDMxwMEh_Ck9oKHohOWPwrXn6VYyopY9Pd0xzM3JT5azi98yWAXnGW7GWb3X6BuYWl9fxg/s320/409.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258702726917920626" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's a 30 lb box! What am I going to do with 30 lbs of Cinnamon mints? Anybody want some mints?<br /></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-42454534778188550412008-10-10T09:55:00.002-07:002008-10-10T09:58:30.330-07:00Imagination!<span style="font-size:85%;">Camden loves playing dress up. So with Halloween coming, we bought some cheap costumes and made a dress up box. He has so much fun playing and I love watching his imagination blossom. It's our new favorite activity in our house. (And is it just me, or is Camden looking way too much like a bigger boy these days? He's lost his toddler look!)<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKcMuTE96f-7q8k7vzhWYIJ27cVPtpPNxtzi6FyEcNS4bS0uQ8HmSTlhBvYYBdCbi5Zp7p0yhb6Zq6_tTJdYpsyN99-PYh3v3u0tDoelazP2RSrMnDNOjOjMraDckPQTigKJ4sww/s1600-h/Family+Pictures+007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKcMuTE96f-7q8k7vzhWYIJ27cVPtpPNxtzi6FyEcNS4bS0uQ8HmSTlhBvYYBdCbi5Zp7p0yhb6Zq6_tTJdYpsyN99-PYh3v3u0tDoelazP2RSrMnDNOjOjMraDckPQTigKJ4sww/s320/Family+Pictures+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255570301765221730" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-zdxsgBj5bOaMADV4WvI3w7pU63rf7XMgHm-JTnCdsm1s18ZlkyzJYoGYPnouI2tUsU2kXUwz_LarXQhc6Ll036oaJaZp8yub8WoeW0QeVwJVz8fP-wj3caSLaS7a7SaN_MTkg/s1600-h/Family+Pictures+006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-zdxsgBj5bOaMADV4WvI3w7pU63rf7XMgHm-JTnCdsm1s18ZlkyzJYoGYPnouI2tUsU2kXUwz_LarXQhc6Ll036oaJaZp8yub8WoeW0QeVwJVz8fP-wj3caSLaS7a7SaN_MTkg/s320/Family+Pictures+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255570477532547346" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-60297279846585108692008-09-25T09:23:00.005-07:002008-09-25T10:18:05.211-07:00Mr. Sunshine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5epTZTq0pTnIlvHnGwFKplmaiJY-NIF79tMDI6GCQwsxHD5kncPXpOOL1RtIntOnA2-JzcxNwAp6CE42uugw4jylJrk781N_oEum0EgF-GH9CcpFXn3M8LU5cfrDXBGHnSwO8Qw/s1600-h/Rachelle_3092.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5epTZTq0pTnIlvHnGwFKplmaiJY-NIF79tMDI6GCQwsxHD5kncPXpOOL1RtIntOnA2-JzcxNwAp6CE42uugw4jylJrk781N_oEum0EgF-GH9CcpFXn3M8LU5cfrDXBGHnSwO8Qw/s320/Rachelle_3092.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250009350393218386" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Easton is 9 months old and I think it's about time I gave him his own post. Easton is truly my Mr. Sunshine. This boy smiles all the time. He's so happy and easy going.<br /><br />Easton has been a joy since the day he was born. He's always been easy going and likes sleep like his mommy. I remember when he was 5 weeks old. I had put him to bed at 9:30 the night before. At 5 am, I woke in a panic wondering if he was ok since he hadn't fed all night long. I checked on him and he was just fine and woke about an hour later to feed. That became normal for him - sleeping through the night at a super young age. Since I had to go back to work when he was 6 weeks old, that was great for me! He is still my great sleeper. When he is sick or is teething, you can expect a few wakings, but otherwise, he sleeps 11 hours at night. He is a total tummy sleeper too, something he did all on his own. Once he learned to roll, as soon as he hit the bed, he flipped </span><span style="font-size:85%;">over on his stomach. I love watching him sleep with his little bum up in the air.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Easton practices new skills all the time. Camden would study and wouldn't do anything until he could do it perfectly. As a result, we have some new experiences with a baby who practices and practices. Easton has been crawling for about a month now. He moves fast and if he sees something he wants, he's after it. He has found the dog food more than once. He also pulls to st</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPASguS9A5pZwk2lVhYISH2AL7DqaDdvdhWfr12RLKaLv6P7SZ4CDPF6M7ey3JjwL0TU7sBtmCm0-b885d3vAu5pVV1aJ4xASlcsBI7aGOEBP8O_d2a9hcVYB9vdBx1X2hAkEuVA/s1600-h/Rachelle_3034.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPASguS9A5pZwk2lVhYISH2AL7DqaDdvdhWfr12RLKaLv6P7SZ4CDPF6M7ey3JjwL0TU7sBtmCm0-b885d3vAu5pVV1aJ4xASlcsBI7aGOEBP8O_d2a9hcVYB9vdBx1X2hAkEuVA/s320/Rachelle_3034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249997649758897458" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;">anding on everything. He loves to be in the center of it all.<br /><br />This is the face I see most of the time. When I come home from work and Easton sees me, he lights up and scrambles as fast as he can to get me. Then he gives me huge, open mouth kisses. When we go to stores, church, or any place public, Easton will stare at somebody until they look at him and then smile big. We get comments all the time on how cute and happy he is. He's a shameless flirt. He'll smile big at any pretty girl, no matter the age. He has all his caretakers wrapped around his finger.<br /><br />Easton loves to laugh and play. He loves animals and stuffed toys. He loves Little People the most (something Camden never enjoyed). He loves baths, books, and exploring his world. He loves games where he bounces in the air and he loves dancing with the family. Although we try to not let him watch TV, if it's on, he's fascinated by the lights. He especially adores his brother. Nobody can get East laughing like Cam can. Nobody! It doesn't matter what simple thing Camden does, it will get Easton rolling on the floor. He looks up to Camden and follows Cam everywhere. Camden is so patient and gentle with him as well.<br /><br />Easton is a<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmHaDcjmCexxESCAlzuwlRd_xr96cy3-PF4_IgGwPWn9o7pIgHWsmhWTR6O5nHRTTQf2WcAjrJKsPAyEZ6U0XFE4vCGXC_Ri90DG9MfU0rS2Pom_FtZn264AwI5v6b7cdJquh7hg/s1600-h/3631HS2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmHaDcjmCexxESCAlzuwlRd_xr96cy3-PF4_IgGwPWn9o7pIgHWsmhWTR6O5nHRTTQf2WcAjrJKsPAyEZ6U0XFE4vCGXC_Ri90DG9MfU0rS2Pom_FtZn264AwI5v6b7cdJquh7hg/s320/3631HS2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250002675301999666" border="0" /></a> champion eater. He loves his solid and table food. He especially loves cheese, noodles, fruits, veggies, and Cheerios. My only complaint about the boy is his liquid diet. Every time he has gotten sick or been teething, he drops a liquid feeding. When he was 4 months old, he got his first cold and refused nursing for weeks on end. He never nursed again, even though I tried. Each cold after that, another feeding dropped. Now he takes one bottle in the morning and one at night. He'll only take a few small sips of liquid during the day from a sippy cup (will not touch a bottle during the day). He's healthy and happy, so his doctor tells me not to worry about it so much. Put anything in front of him in solid form and he'll eat it though, so that's a good thing.<br /><br />Easton is such a joy. We call him Easter Bug, Easter Bunny, Eastie, and bug most of the time. We tried calling him Eastie Beastie, but since he in no way is a beast, it just doesn't fit. I am so grateful this happy, sunshiney boy is in our lives!<br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-57160462190337455572008-06-20T20:37:00.005-07:002008-06-20T20:44:55.397-07:00My Students<span style="font-size:85%;">To make up for <a href="http://teachergoingmad.blogspot.com/2008/05/on-being-teacher.html">missing graduation</a>, I held a barbecue for some of my seniors. I had to show them off as we had one last big fling before they move on to new stages of their lives.<br /><br />Easton hanging out with the ladies (they are all so beautiful!)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU2EJD2HjRrsKrc9kNiJOH3Rp8tnsM6Fqo0lIzfwx7sr6KW5h9HMYk82_lk_jpoNS2dTbXdL8xvLGq4wf8LkdL2xtwUiP5snRG2gpo7lNBaJBcF3dWYGOX-pDK0VxEpAPjbet5Tg/s1600-h/P1010416.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU2EJD2HjRrsKrc9kNiJOH3Rp8tnsM6Fqo0lIzfwx7sr6KW5h9HMYk82_lk_jpoNS2dTbXdL8xvLGq4wf8LkdL2xtwUiP5snRG2gpo7lNBaJBcF3dWYGOX-pDK0VxEpAPjbet5Tg/s320/P1010416.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214175001203841474" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The boys trying oh so hard to be cool (or is that me trying to be cool?)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQaacBebyXulH0hHd6h-g1zP18zegLM1zhVWk6W2mpXikXJNt1gDKvlbUEie0vB93OWcJXtDbzVX-BjJEqhd4UD39GCmP-A5FFYN0E0Qw1B7LAPVn9O3uvEluuEt_aRcDAvDmVw/s1600-h/P1010417.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQaacBebyXulH0hHd6h-g1zP18zegLM1zhVWk6W2mpXikXJNt1gDKvlbUEie0vB93OWcJXtDbzVX-BjJEqhd4UD39GCmP-A5FFYN0E0Qw1B7LAPVn9O3uvEluuEt_aRcDAvDmVw/s320/P1010417.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214175208118747970" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />A bunch of the crew. Man, I love these kids!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrbT9cVXZ9AkePQP_hhAhcnV9pFl4FoZ10_rqhimHVrx928MMu1noa6rUZkQ6RNMUnvRpkszWu3VlgGRF_rhPY2M9H2NG1IZJb0JQMivX0BJR6QcZLhtwee60x6Fyd1zYDGjwBg/s1600-h/P1010423.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrbT9cVXZ9AkePQP_hhAhcnV9pFl4FoZ10_rqhimHVrx928MMu1noa6rUZkQ6RNMUnvRpkszWu3VlgGRF_rhPY2M9H2NG1IZJb0JQMivX0BJR6QcZLhtwee60x6Fyd1zYDGjwBg/s320/P1010423.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214175449990832434" border="0" /></a><br /></span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-50953220365096767952008-06-02T19:10:00.003-07:002008-06-02T19:17:18.503-07:00Toddler Math<span style="font-size:85%;">Take one active, curious three year old. Add in two parents busy getting ready for church, plus a spray bottle full of water unnoticed in the toddler's hand. Leave said child unattended while said parents prepare for church. Notice it has become eerily quiet and race downstairs to see said toddler sitting with said water bottle in front of the open laptop computer. What do you have? One <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">toddlerfied</span> computer. Yes Camden, that dear, sweet boy, sprayed water all over the screen of the laptop, which has consequently destroyed the laptop screen. So I am stuck with our old, SLOW PC and may be a bit scarce. If you are here from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">NCLM</span>, I will be catching up with you soon!</span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-52944356519909194602008-05-28T19:02:00.002-07:002008-05-28T19:04:55.133-07:00Shamelessly Showing Off<span style="font-size:85%;">Pictures of my two boys! I absolutely love how this photographer captured my boys and their personalities. If you are out in the Wasatch Front or the Uintah Basin parts of Utah, give her a call. She has reasonable prices and does great work! I scored a free session, but have already booked family pictures for the fall because I loved her work so much.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><a href="http://www.tinamieraphotography.com/Proofs/"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://www.tinamieraphotography.com/Proofs/</span></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Pull down the drop down menu until you see my last name (hint - starts with a D). Hit "enter gallery." Then hit submit. There is no password. I don't know how long the proofs will stay up, so check 'em out when you can.</span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-10752486413596919892008-05-23T19:06:00.004-07:002008-05-24T06:05:19.401-07:00On Being a Teacher<span style="font-size:85%;">Today my 10<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> year of teaching came to a close. In the past ten years, I have taught more than a thousand students. It's hard to believe I have been teaching that long. I still feel like I am a young 22 year old teacher just starting out. Instead I am an old veteran, no longer wearing rose colored glasses. The past ten years have been a fun and sometimes wild ride. Some years have been challenging, bringing struggles at every turn. Other years have been absolutely wonderful, bringing me joy. Most years are a combination of each.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Teaching is more than a job to me. Each year, over one hundred students enter my classroom. Some will delight me, some will annoy me, and some will challenge me. But each year, those children become like family to me. Each year, some students will ask me if I will miss them, while others will ask me if I will be glad they are gone. The truth is, I always miss my students. That last day of school each year is bitter sweet. While I am glad the year is over for many reasons (a big one that I get to be a mom full time for a few months), I am so sad my students are moving on. Students don't realize the way many teachers see their students. When those kids enter my classroom, they become mine. They become my students and I care about them deeply. Not only do I care about their academic success, but I care about them individually. I worry about them through the year. That doesn't stop when they leave my classroom. They take a piece of me with them when they leave. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It's true. My students really take a piece of me with them when they leave. I often find myself wondering how they are doing, what they are doing, how life is treating them. One of my greatest joys is when I run into a former student and they run up and say hi, ask about me, and tell me about their lives. I get sad when a former student acts like they don't know or remember me, because usually, I remember them.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Today I said goodbye to one of my favorite classes of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">eighth</span> grade. Out of the ten classes I have taught, this group rates up among my top three favorite classes ever. Tonight, my favorite group of students ever graduated from high school. Out of that top three, this group rates #1. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The graduating group came to me 5 years ago. I didn't yet have children, but I had finally found some peace in my infertility. I had the peace that some how, some day, I would have kids. In the meantime, while I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">waited</span>, I threw myself into teaching. This group of students came in and we immediately bonded. I saw so much beauty, promise, and hope in this class. Part way through the year, I noticed these students didn't see the same beauty in themselves. So I did an activity to help them see their own beauty. And that activity bonded us like no other. From then on, these students were my children and I was their adopted mom.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Our closeness didn't end at the end of that year. Many were student aides for me the next year. Many come to my house or my classroom to visit. It's not unusual, especially in the summer, for a group of them to show up at my door with a pizza, raid my fridge for drinks, and sit around and chat for awhile. They showed up just last week, wanting one last reunion before they graduated. They have played many, many pranks on me over the years. I've tried to get them back, but they always win. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Tonight they graduated. I wanted more than anything to be there with them. I planned and planned on being there. And then Mark had to work tonight. And then <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Easton</span> got sick. And it rained (ceremony is supposed to be outside). And Camden is a 3 year old who doesn't sit well. And the graduation is during dinner time. With all those things combining, I knew it would be patently unfair to my children to drag them to the graduation with all those factors in play. I am so sad I cannot be there tonight. I have been torn all night, rethinking the decision to stay home, and coming to the conclusion again that it is best for my children to stay home. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I am so sad to see these students leave - both the group from this year and my graduating seniors. Our school does a fun <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tradition</span> every year when the students leave. The teachers and staff get the noisiest things we can find. This year it was bull horns, whistles, and clapping hands. We get out there with our noise makers and make as much noise as we can while the students load on the buses. Then, before the buses leave, all the bus drivers lay on their horns and don't let go. You have more than 20 buses with horns blaring and an entire junior high staff making tons of noise. It's a huge, raucous, fun time. Then one by one, the buses pull out. Each year this tradition brings me so much joy because it's such a fun send off. But each year I find myself with tears in my eyes as another group of students leave. This year, tears rolled down my face. I am losing two of my favorite classes ever. While I am so excited for them and their futures, I am so sad to see them go.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My hope is the future will be kind to them. May they find joy and peace in the journey of their lives. May they carry the knowledge that this teacher, this one person, will always love and care about them. May they always find a soft place to land. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">For my students of this year, carry on your educational journey. Make wise choices. Live life to the fullest. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">To my graduating students - Kyle (Matt), Jeff, Megan, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Britli</span>, Brittany, Justin, and too many others to name - you carry my heart with you. I love you as much as I do my own kids. Don't forget to invite me to all those mission farewells, weddings, baby showers, and everything else. Life gets harder as an adult, but so much more rewarding. I hope you find more happiness and joy than you can ever imagine.</span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-38524643534275828492008-05-07T07:51:00.004-07:002008-05-07T09:31:32.653-07:00Life on the other side<span style="font-size:85%;">I've been thinking a lot about infertility and its impact on my life. Recently I found this </span><a href="http://lostandfoundandconnectionsabound.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">site</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> and I wished I had found it back when I was ttc Camden or after my miscarriage or when we were trying for Easton. I didn't start this blog until Camden was about 8 months old and I haven't fully shared my infertility story on this blog (coming in the next few weeks). When I was going through the infertility, I had a small support group, but one by one those girls got pregnant until I was mainly alone. I wished and wished for a bigger support group, which I have since discovered exists in this great world of blogs, but I knew nothing of blogging at the time. I'm so glad it exists now because I would never want another infertile person to feel as alone as I did during that time. At the worst of it, I just wanted somebody, anybody, to understand what a toll being infertile can take on a person's body and soul. I can say with certainty that infertility has been the hardest thing I have gone through to date and it still defines who I am as a woman and person.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Now I find myself on the other side. I have been blessed with two beautiful little boys - two boys that, at one point, I was told might never exist without major medical intervention. At one point I believed they would never exist and that I would never be a mother. Yet here they are. They complete me in ways I never thought possible. I often feel like I was born to be their mother; they are the reason I exist. They have brought more meaning, more light, more joy to my life than I ever expected. I would do anything for those two boys. There is not a day that I don't thank my Heavenly Father for these children. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It's a weird dichotomy. I have children, yet still define myself as infertile. Even though I am the mother of two, even though I have created, carried, and birthed two children, I still see myself as infertile. Not a day goes by that I do not think of myself as an infertile woman. But to anybody just meeting me, to anybody who does not know my background, I am a lucky mother of two. Most likely, they see me as a fertile being. They see the blessings I have received. They see the two children at my feet. They haven't seen the trial or the pain. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The more children I have, the more removed I am from the infertile world. Not necessarily by choice, but by the circumstance of being a mother. How is another infertile woman to know that I struggled, that I feel like I was granted two miracles? How is another infertile woman to relate to me when they are still going through the struggle to get a child? I know that 5 years ago I would have scoffed at such woman, who, with two children at their feet, told me they knew of my pain. I knew they could never imagine the pain and hurt I felt because they were blessed. Now I am that person I so dreaded not that many years ago.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I wonder where I fit in now. I still feel part of that infertile world, but yet I am also so far removed by the very nature of having children. Do other infertile people read my posts and then scoff because I do have children? My goal since having children has been to hopefully give hope to somebody else in the same situation, for somebody seeking for a happy ending story. But does that happy ending story hurt more than it helps? I don't know. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I know that I am not done having children. I also know that for each child I try for, fertilty medications will be involved. It's a fact - I rarely, if ever, ovulate on my own. I have PCOS. So by that definition, I am still infertile. Yet I also know what doses of medication will work for me. I know I have been pregnant three times now as a results of those medications, and that two of those pregnancies have resulted in living children. So by that definition, I am a mother.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Every day I think of infertility, in much the same way that a person who has survived cancer thinks about cancer. (No, the two are not equal and I don't mean to offend anybody in that comparison, but just like cancer changes ones live forever, so does infertility in a different way). I often wish that I could wear a shirt that proclaims, "These children are the result of years of trying, heartache, testing, medications, loss, more medications, and more trying" so that people, especially those who may resent me for my children (as I so often resented others), will know what a small bit of what I went through to get these children. I want people to know that I remember the pain so clearly; I remember the heartache, the longing, and the hurt. I want to reach out to those who are struggling and let them know there is life on the other side. I never want to get so far removed from the infertile world that I forget what it is like to struggle.</span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-59039479633962201482008-04-21T09:48:00.008-07:002008-04-21T10:12:54.922-07:00Houston, we have a 3 year old!<span style="font-size:85%;">Holy cow! I didn't think it had been that long since I last blogged. Where has the time gone?<br /></span><div><div><div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Camden turned 3 over the weekend. I cannot believe I am a mom to a 3 year old! Cam loves all things Mickey Mouse for his birthday and wanted "Mickey Mouse club house ears" for his birthday cake, so I obliged. I love making my children a special cake each year and this was no different. It was my first time using marshmallow fondant and while it didn't turn out quite as smooth as I hoped, Cam loved it and that's all that matters. He kept opening the oven and looking at his cake until his party.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191743635940192882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglIx6pfTKzo3ybTz9z7X4Z-WYJJ3EwgDEbY8kqL2fiK22ZisI6DcSiqh7xVfCXUr4qSSgNo_-KaB8zr8tKmb3K-rl3ZJMJ2JjH5QB9nAam8gwx-NN8nz11yQKDEi_7L3haGj5sNQ/s320/P1010265.JPG" border="0" /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">This was the first year that Camden really got what a birthday was all about. He loved being the center of attention and opening presents. Each one brought such joy to his face. I loved watching his face<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191744366084633250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw-M6E1HOVC7SblGf9pcL6sf6no3g7NRIQKzzhP8pFu9nStKbtLKsUEb4SPDf1zBJTFHpvr6cFdnRdcLcdxjFkvUs3do1Pb0-XBivN76as6v9nyeyi-9VJyDjZwIR0hyjJjjwp1w/s320/P1010276.JPG" border="0" /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">He's already got that 3 year old attitude down pat, as seen in this picture before church. He's probably wondering why Mommy dresses him in such funny clothes (because I can my son, because I can).</div></div></div></div></span><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191744726861886130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxvCH9c3vp0X-fJJ2tfzwYsaUpydBg891ZDm6PVdOMA_2xHkz6MJ3Mc-2jDoNzfHMADtePWpAQFuf2gMfCvQ-ORcDjDamv0UhyOMW5lE8tVXwBPovUkYkBT0_bEZaE7FK1JuQnQ/s320/P1010290.JPG" border="0" />And of course no post would be complete without the squishy we call Easton. I love those cheeks!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191747514295661266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLu-OZWVTtfm2YlJnExDzUkmRWtFm9PwocpoOJyIM1uUc6OZuIe5gJdpdVafvqkBMMvFRDyT2lEMc7uaZciTHD9FXGs3AvHj8bis-ukS1i9R5SfQ0C32q9wW1XrPalk4h9uugbg/s320/P1010288.JPG" border="0" /></p>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-78996248508999696752008-03-27T10:09:00.009-07:002008-03-27T13:23:07.339-07:00My Easter Post<span style="font-size:85%;">With the help of super high tech tools like a paper clip, our photo card was rescued from the computer slot where it was not-so-tenderly shoved and Camden will live to see his 3rd birthday. Without further ado, Easter pictures!<br /></span><div><div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Camden was so excited about his first official Easter egg hunt. They gave out bags of candy at the beginning and he clung tightly to it. He didn't realize there was candy in the bag until much later, otherwise there wouldn't have been this picture. </span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDmZ0N8qDHS2Wc82LRv5n-ilWhVqdJwL63zyZovnLJxbM8qk3zLhHE3zHQtwsaBBoC7-UIS4_WsztBacZJS7V4HeVsAGkbmPvjn0B23PfeB9WoArSac_z3U3Rz3p-PcgHiAPlIA/s1600-h/Family+Pictures+003.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182511745409939186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDmZ0N8qDHS2Wc82LRv5n-ilWhVqdJwL63zyZovnLJxbM8qk3zLhHE3zHQtwsaBBoC7-UIS4_WsztBacZJS7V4HeVsAGkbmPvjn0B23PfeB9WoArSac_z3U3Rz3p-PcgHiAPlIA/s320/Family+Pictures+003.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Camden found one egg and was so proud to have it! The Easter egg hunt was rather lame, but he had fun and that's all that matters. Easton, as usual, slept through the entire thing.</span><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithOcRHeFb5MBt2GYtU0nEQKagkIr4tcCJ-MtGL9tTW4uwOyy3DDpvYV_GeQBof0yPoyxgB0VZ9seLwoVAVWzVHvKvlvE7HvTHuyzX-gUyMpR-ACz9tnqk7QpKeyRSdUrLVjvFbQ/s1600-h/Family+Pictures+004.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182511848489154306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithOcRHeFb5MBt2GYtU0nEQKagkIr4tcCJ-MtGL9tTW4uwOyy3DDpvYV_GeQBof0yPoyxgB0VZ9seLwoVAVWzVHvKvlvE7HvTHuyzX-gUyMpR-ACz9tnqk7QpKeyRSdUrLVjvFbQ/s320/Family+Pictures+004.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">We had so much fun decoarting eggs together. Cam had to count them all to make sure there really were 12 eggs. He also insisted each egg had a name.</span><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZiT9PwposGGYoggaPs52eyP077USI6BhA476b-jL4HCgy0gIQGlzUf47Kap3t6MpCU7O9V9fmqw5SWmvZpEdoH1G7aR9w_-krbre_jT-UPAcWiLWTeXaMyphXDH__ArMJ4nzzwA/s1600-h/Family+Pictures+007.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182514842081359634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZiT9PwposGGYoggaPs52eyP077USI6BhA476b-jL4HCgy0gIQGlzUf47Kap3t6MpCU7O9V9fmqw5SWmvZpEdoH1G7aR9w_-krbre_jT-UPAcWiLWTeXaMyphXDH__ArMJ4nzzwA/s320/Family+Pictures+007.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6wnj9JlzgbabiRe28lkij3IEvsP1yVNG05Kq8e2yp7jduQjrfQmNuuJJm_rQwr4cDO8WpxSVLaFnNKjNKQn1ZB0AtOeErooagEpj1yoDJ62rJq-jUugkVjd97qzCGhwmijmedg/s1600-h/P1010261.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Of course the boys got new clothes for church and I had to take a picture. Notice the look of terror on Easton's face. "Mom, you're going to let Camden hold me? Are you crazy?!?!" Yes my dear child, I am. May you live to tell the tale.</span><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6wnj9JlzgbabiRe28lkij3IEvsP1yVNG05Kq8e2yp7jduQjrfQmNuuJJm_rQwr4cDO8WpxSVLaFnNKjNKQn1ZB0AtOeErooagEpj1yoDJ62rJq-jUugkVjd97qzCGhwmijmedg/s1600-h/P1010261.JPG"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182514996700182306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6wnj9JlzgbabiRe28lkij3IEvsP1yVNG05Kq8e2yp7jduQjrfQmNuuJJm_rQwr4cDO8WpxSVLaFnNKjNKQn1ZB0AtOeErooagEpj1yoDJ62rJq-jUugkVjd97qzCGhwmijmedg/s320/P1010261.JPG" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div></div><div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Finally Camden actually looked at the camera and smiled. Easton looks resigned to his fate of being held by big brother.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypq9LVbPeYkaHrP4jqsWyO9X0lDsKptVSFdZkMSvtQC_LxgtuqAcCo_MSyWE_5gPnCfLq3ow6rnRMF4-gkMpmSak0SIifaAIdVeNUvFp4d1k6mDuu6atFI2deZDFgWvm5caUgaw/s1600-h/Family+Pictures+009.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182515061124691762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypq9LVbPeYkaHrP4jqsWyO9X0lDsKptVSFdZkMSvtQC_LxgtuqAcCo_MSyWE_5gPnCfLq3ow6rnRMF4-gkMpmSak0SIifaAIdVeNUvFp4d1k6mDuu6atFI2deZDFgWvm5caUgaw/s320/Family+Pictures+009.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div> </div><div><br /> </div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">And one last picture of a smiling squishy. I love those cheeks and that smile! Chubby babies rock my world!</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ASFeN657PB7bFUquEb2QNYG79uWzDdECJJQCPxZNECzidmZOejnGUbkg0H8ZLsRMltdAoKLxdQxnxc4vNf-oZ7tUlv59PKtY3vIgP5XUt5sl0MqZ58N8PGQezIOhJ05_KBX2aQ/s1600-h/Family+Pictures+006.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182515116959266626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ASFeN657PB7bFUquEb2QNYG79uWzDdECJJQCPxZNECzidmZOejnGUbkg0H8ZLsRMltdAoKLxdQxnxc4vNf-oZ7tUlv59PKtY3vIgP5XUt5sl0MqZ58N8PGQezIOhJ05_KBX2aQ/s320/Family+Pictures+006.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div></div></div>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-6244818281938828872008-03-25T13:43:00.002-07:002008-03-25T13:51:37.945-07:00In this spot . . .<span style="font-size:85%;">In this spot you should be seeing MLM (now a week and one day late), but you're not because I still haven't gotten around to it. I want to write a longer post and just haven't had time (doing fun stuff like decorating eggs and cookies with my kiddos over spring break). It will be up sometime this week. Thanks for being patient with me.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In this spot I was going to do an Easter post, showing lots of pics of my sons. But Camden, that dear, sweet, almost 3 year old boy, had some fun with the camera card and our laptop, so said laptop is currently at the computer repair shop where they can hopefully extract said camera card from the card slot on the computer (where Camden jammed it in sideways). The fun of toddlers!</span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-56247479528089736862008-03-18T10:50:00.002-07:002008-03-18T10:57:09.638-07:00No time<span style="font-size:85%;">As you can see, I never quite got MLM up yesterday. I had really good intents. I even thought about the post last night as I laid in bed, not falling asleep. As much as I want to, I won't get it up today either or in the next few days. I figure many people did something with St. Patrick's Day (at least I hope), so I will post this week's topic (your greatest adventure) next week. If you have already completed it, post your link next week. If, like me, you haven't even started, you have another week to get it done. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I never knew how hard it would be to work full time and take care of two children. I love my life, but is a crazy hectic life. Between wearing the hats of wife, mother, and teacher, I also wear the hat of mentor teacher and department head at my school. Right now there are lots of deadlines looming in all these areas (taxes at home, ordering new textbooks, completing mentoring paper work, setting up school visits, etc), so this will probably be my one and only post for this week. Hopefully by Monday things will calm back down again and I will be back on track! Thanks for hanging in there with me!</span>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19425334.post-46675030602466039912008-03-10T07:04:00.006-07:002008-03-10T07:34:19.615-07:00My Life Monday - pictures<div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoDAC4HvXVSoRtpIXpAoHlWrGdQ5kf3TQoPRWH1B7xna_uJ5ZsT4_oFB9WVCaS7ToohwTsZOK1vU515OiHp2u3jAttTXzB10hb5HaUKSo6u4km2vatQeiKxI8xYQ4bbiUpEIklWQ/s1600-h/mylifemonday.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176114160716528290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoDAC4HvXVSoRtpIXpAoHlWrGdQ5kf3TQoPRWH1B7xna_uJ5ZsT4_oFB9WVCaS7ToohwTsZOK1vU515OiHp2u3jAttTXzB10hb5HaUKSo6u4km2vatQeiKxI8xYQ4bbiUpEIklWQ/s320/mylifemonday.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">I assigned this topic really quick last week because it was the first thing I could think of that sounded fun. And I planned all week to take a really cool picture of some sort. But that never happened (surprise surprise). So I'll use this as an excuse to show off pictures of my boys!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">This is Chef Camden. He loves to dress up. This cute hat and apron were made for him by a friend of ours. Whenever he "cooks" in his kitchen, he has to wear this.</span> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176116896610695858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnMZvj9NKIJWsRgaJpRGs1nvfd8O3WDPmcIIzL53P1aqD2uMm4uOASnra_P7RChO_rSFaRZWzw6aY2qI3kSuIomfZubF4EsXSrbc__jO4EOps9KIQu_6eMcAmUfrQz5GWkLdZC6A/s320/Family+Pictures+004.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Camden loves to line up things in what he calls "slides". For this one he took every single Magnetic in our house and lined them up in a huge snake around the living room. He was very proud of himself.</span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176118782101338818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl427YLz3yHf69VFmG6_gzEKkxuSuQbz-49Q2hiui6GVZqt2IdB2kOo4K6gNaJf030iSqepJqZ_T5nYH2avlSz37CzUMVPtJ_3iJw6PkxwFT9YROdRQrcP3LiqeG3Qgyt0uGCSEw/s320/Family+Pictures+005.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">And this post wouldn't be complete without one picture of the squishy I call Easton. No story, just a really cute baby!</span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176119739879045842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_UEZPLUIpTvpq0_AQZMzAaddqRnZGcWIa2m6xcsYRYnL1ktvjcIdoBWozjMS7w9ODgbvkLbMMJkObzc78vUkCrArj7PLwbBDKNF3rWmR-921Pv3sLbx8tlgBFvFtfEklpE8SAg/s320/Family+Pictures+009.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Next week's topic - share your greatest adventure. Whatever that may be. :) Leave a comment if you participated this week, as well as your link. Oh, and please either leave me some MLM ideas in the comments or email me some. I need more! We can also recycle old ones if you so wish. Thanks!</span></p><br /><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=teacherrjd&postid=10Mar2008"></script>Rachellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05906047158557222868noreply@blogger.com10