tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2270454736429485612024-03-13T12:48:47.399-05:00Boots, Bows, & the 5-OHPaigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.comBlogger919125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-2306343714185179512017-08-21T22:04:00.001-05:002017-08-21T22:04:21.857-05:00Another MemoryWhile blogging has taken the back burner over the course of a few years, I hope that I am able to start keeping track of some very important moments in our family again. <div><br></div><div>This season of life has brought us many changes. Charli starting sixth grade and Bryar entering kindergarten. My fourth year within preschool and hopefully more positive changes coming in that direction as well. Charli Beth is taking a break from softball, while preparing for Volleyball. Bryar is in his second season of baseball and wishing he could remake his favorite movie The Sandlot. </div><div><br></div><div>We had an amazing summer of trips to Florida, memory making, lazy days and days just simply well spent. Of course some of my favorite memory making moments happened down this lane as I walked with Charli Beth just talking about life. Or even the afternoon (yes, just that one afternoon) that I went for a run and the kids were concerned about me so they came running to find me. While we love the lane and the memories it holds, we're super excited to share that another little Hargett will soon be making memories with us here.... </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_a0db_6fcb_32ac_2d28" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g0InM8pmn0M/WZufNLSvJDI/AAAAAAAAM-c/6zjvTRr8xBEAa_H_4dGk1mbSwO661c0AQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div>While we are very excited and still trying to convince Bryar that it is indeed happening, we would love for you to pray along with us! </div><div><br></div><div>What a journey we are on as we become outnumbered by little hearts. </div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-13303182359211838612017-07-14T16:17:00.001-05:002017-07-14T16:17:35.931-05:00My Sisters Wedding! <img id="id_e2bb_13b8_88f0_5df6" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-69IUcLlRrxc/WWk00iRlsJI/AAAAAAAAM9A/zJ5DTrXcDtgVeS1TR7l-Rvri_jbXoUgMgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><img id="id_20fa_f76e_6d90_7f61" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8LuZjRt8iNw/WWk015HRfwI/AAAAAAAAM9I/SYoTDUImWrUjNWw0KaOl0Ax0x_Dn_8l6wCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">On June 27, 2017 my sister Ashley married her longtime fiancé Alex. She picked he perfect day, which would've been our Dads 51st birthday, and the perfect location of somewhere we used to vacation together. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span><img id="id_990e_d9f_a809_ff68" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3HTD-93b3Bo/WWk01roms5I/AAAAAAAAM9E/Yp6dU526byc2DG1wyhZpQYe8AYFurMo0ACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 432px; height: auto;"><br><br><div><img id="id_8aa1_2151_6b31_2180" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9DN62pdFK-o/WWk02EFxNLI/AAAAAAAAM9M/XgrICHgOLHAZE83TN1QySWTanOoAFLv0gCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><img id="id_a5d5_917b_69c6_3b1c" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cefiuf1nRfA/WWk04ctGKjI/AAAAAAAAM9Q/5aE6H9sFBkA1IconMVMWi6UC2iU4_8mmACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">The cookies were absolutely adorable. If you're in our area I would love to share their information with you. Her seashell wedding favors were the perfect items to add to her wedding touches. She had plans for a fancy camp tent but sadly with the rain that the area had experienced lately, she went with a back up plan that Fancy Camps helped with. They seemed to be the perfect fit to my sisters go with the flow personality. <br></span><br></div><div><img id="id_f32b_2b8e_a4e8_b9f2" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xQWZC6yIpkQ/WWk05H73k5I/AAAAAAAAM9Y/A-3PotC8BDU0Av7w76e-aZq_8Fg_gSdVwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div>Root beer and cream soda, along with the beach is the perfect example of my sister. </div><div><br></div><div>It's also the perfect example of this very grown up little girl in the next photo. She will be entering into sixth grade in the next few weeks. It's amazing to think how little she was when Alex and Ashley started dating. Time flies. Charli had an illness the night and morning before the wedding. I'm so glad she was able to feel up to coming with keeping her distance from others. She would've been devastated to miss this day. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_5a53_cdd9_8d4c_7951" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GgfwfR1F9XI/WWk04rLjMWI/AAAAAAAAM9U/3dRn_85WjxAt70H6b6c4g_ZY7sPa_58rwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><img id="id_ea3_61a_23d2_8e9f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QjtZocDnV2s/WWk06ucC--I/AAAAAAAAM9g/gBNBzJaymjI_o8SaeUnsgPEs18tVEHGbgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><img id="id_43d3_e83d_8269_d3e0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WeOGSeJC3YM/WWk06ukaK9I/AAAAAAAAM9c/ZwLyTZKImbYmkn9rde9F2epMlaQ3lGcBQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div>As you can see that our attire was mostly made of "tropical wear." This was another way to honor our Dad and his love for his tropical shirts at the beach. My sweet Mother in Law helped me make a skirt from one of his shirts. It turned out so well, and I loved being able to bring apart of his memories along. We also used some of this cloth to tie onto Ashley bouquet. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_9ace_bc15_ae25_c166" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1Kr0R1aTono/WWk07SpfxBI/AAAAAAAAM9o/xzQSeUILptwYTJXtHaKEdPae7MuxgD2NgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div>Isn't she just beautiful? </div><div><br></div><div>They are an amazing couple, that I'm blessed to be doing life with as a family. Our trip was amazing, and their day was perfect. I cannot wait to see their lives continue to grow together as a family. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_7fb9_195d_c959_6fda" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FrpkLhc9uIQ/WWk07YyOiPI/AAAAAAAAM9k/oxvVyUGHtBIUMZntSo1bM5eSgO-ov934gCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-50561274503046816612017-06-15T21:18:00.001-05:002017-06-15T21:18:56.985-05:00You're Killin' Me Smalls <img id="id_88fb_31a5_74d5_701c" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J1aSekTMB6o/WUNADm_MbbI/AAAAAAAAM8w/3CEhk4jvS-AVrJSyFqPe99lcoOd-rLIoACHMYCw/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <div><br></div><div>There is nothing in the world anymore precious in the world than watching a child play a sport with an innocent heart. Before our world and our parenting gets in the midst of their eyes, this is where athletes are crazy. Do not get me wrong, I absolutely love competition, and pushing my oldest child each day. But watching this little guy play in the dirt when strikes are repeating, turn is hat backwards while screaming that he looks like squints, or waving from second base. </div><div><br></div><div>Man... just leave me here in this ball game life.</div><div><br></div><div>Bryar has fallen in love with baseball and the Sandlot. </div><div><img id="id_1e16_188b_4a8a_c9ca" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z4C9MNqRlx4/WUNADXfRgLI/AAAAAAAAM8s/YH7cZ-zeX2sjd2b4yAcVAOwjdozRWlz_wCHMYCw/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-5397424820232789082017-06-08T09:42:00.001-05:002017-06-08T09:42:08.312-05:00The Best News To Share <br><img id="id_c551_549e_deb5_f264" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YlbUnDPi4Ag/WTliPW3nm9I/AAAAAAAAM8c/gk5rZ6uILBgX0Gqbnp6iDk8kecJozeB2wCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <div><br></div><div>There are days when we wonder why certain things are taking place, and what the greater good of heartache could even be coming from. But on Saturday, June 3 while Charli Beth was away at an overnight camp she was saved and most things started to make sense. She called me as she was leaving that afternoon, and her heart was still tender as I've ever noticed. </div><div><br></div><div>While we are worrying, fretting and letting our lives whirl us around we forget the image of how each life is being a message to little eyes who are watching. I cannot even express into words how happy Charli Beth's news made me on that beautiful Saturday afternoon. To see her grow in Christ over the past few years, has been a blessing. Listening to her give her heart out to God in praying has been heart warming. We are blessed to be able to continue to watch her grow in Christ. </div><div><br></div><div>I cannot express how thankful my heart is for the families that have prayed from Charli since she was born, during this hard year and at different times. We are blessed with two church families that have continued to surround us with love, prayers and guidance. </div><div><br></div><div>What a wonderful day with even better news to share. </div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-6207344727412995222017-05-21T23:14:00.001-05:002017-05-22T22:03:19.541-05:00Pancakes & Pajamas - 11th BirthdayIt's been almost ten years since I started this blog. Our life has changed dramatically within these years, but one thing that has changed is how I love celebrating the life of Charli Beth and Bryar. Parties are just simply fun. Planning on the other hand can sometimes be a little...not so fun. But I try to use ideas that she comes up, Pinterest and other boards to help provide exactly what I think will work in giving not only her, but all of us memories to look back upon. In reality, my kids would be fine with dinners only but I just simply enjoy the rush of throwing parties together. <div><br></div><div>Yes, it's a rush... and yes, I need a more productive hobby. </div><div><br></div><div>This year Charli Beth was stuck on pancakes and pajamas. I'm certain she came across the theme on Pinterest and it just stuck with her. I was a little hesistant as the theme seemed to be a little more toodler friendly, but she was motivated by this one particular theme only. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_1c39_831c_9fc1_ff92" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-JVcF8Q9RZYc/WSJlJUJM4uI/AAAAAAAAM6U/nDaO478ct04VKkCUTVLZe-oXuAoVUszEwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_43b6_4986_e037_2f3e" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4DHhzkPOl_o/WSJlF1F8h0I/AAAAAAAAM6Q/b-6nA6MselstGJxKQobD9tcQz4aFZXYmwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>We tried to make things as much spring colored and bold as that was her one request. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_5b7b_646f_65f1_1cee" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ujEZve4Jji0/WSJlJjmMTFI/AAAAAAAAM6Y/W4IgeXFS6uA8VLEclvRAEkH3Q23OUvz9QCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_4ccc_e1ca_1c9e_ef19" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-34EUf3GkTxM/WSJlFj65fEI/AAAAAAAAM6M/cdDXK2kanKcmd3-E4-t1gDXVVJ3nkH5IQCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>Most of everything came from Mighty Dollar. It's my secret party planning store. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_cfa8_dbc4_e6d0_79dc" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AjaEdhG_EVA/WSJlKeyqIgI/AAAAAAAAM6c/RohjINKIu-oE2iC1-iYOwOpROCaJhnNygCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>You're welcome. </div><div><br></div><div>Sometime all it takes is a little hot glue then boom, you have a $2 stand. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_77d7_8f34_38f8_6f12" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ewQtvfbP34g/WSJlK9WQP1I/AAAAAAAAM6g/ZleOvjHvnIIn1pggU3AkG4dWecUWIZmGACHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>The pancake centerpieces came from my sweet friend Jenny who helped make them in a pinch. I know she worked very hard on them and they were a perfect match to be added into the fruit loop jars. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_4ce4_2357_d132_d7b4" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--NpEa9oo9tw/WSJlMQa78II/AAAAAAAAM6k/SQB1cGBJ_RwDSsu1JctFhkhbiHJ3_f1EwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>Charli Beth's shirt was made by Barn Door Designs. She took my request and made it perfectly! </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_1919_3c8a_ea37_d1c6" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sWz-7DOVupA/WSJlOWPicxI/AAAAAAAAM6w/DxdwyUNe8MgIZry4mFWZUhAcCUBTafDYwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>Pancakes were famously made by Curtis as Charli only wanted her favorite pancake chef making them for her friends. He was SO very willing and actually wanted to go all out on ingredients. But instead I let the children add their toppings rather than inserting. It would've been a much harder time trying to incorporate ingredients into the pancakes. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_8bd1_2f_38e1_77f5" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XSmZFscqwyU/WSJlOAPahFI/AAAAAAAAM6o/8HV3EprgYpY6rjmYEYCVtwfPLOFTYKR4wCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_4d3c_5ba3_c79c_a54" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fAhBFO-OslA/WSJlOHDPcAI/AAAAAAAAM6s/oWS3-pQVB9cOfgwwNBUMUwUCBE2qfK3OgCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_38c4_c003_3a3d_8037" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Szm4K2Wqi0Q/WSJlPuS_ZZI/AAAAAAAAM60/sPdK5MGCnFMTPRqV_e7jkoWJLOyZbUDFgCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>My sweet Mother and Mother in law, are always such a blessing to me. From the help with decorating, to the makings of different foods, and cleaning up. I know that none of this would be able with out their unselfish love. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_129a_a24b_82b4_5e1e" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Yov2LLjh3aM/WSJlS98HPvI/AAAAAAAAM7A/7cTRq3Xgo1Y4kz3LxRPr3qU91AzEyDpJACHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_b79b_5dd2_149b_5caf" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZpP9mrZuc2Y/WSJlSKeJVuI/AAAAAAAAM64/9w2z_QJIHO4nWjFkOu3psq7VY3x7h7p0gCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_aa9d_747_d02e_b8fb" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A7_asOT4bVU/WSJlSxMXVkI/AAAAAAAAM68/tEgA26saPJQ_QKJOVkKLqG9n_KyCD6KUgCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_9733_85e6_2ed_69a3" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Qq5IcLv9uo8/WSJlXn8-uDI/AAAAAAAAM7M/NQlm8dMrPcsAipya9_faXr-aKoD1pg2wwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>The girls loved playing outside while pancakes were making. Then they came back inside to a craft which was as simply as adding stickers to a handheld mirror. After breakfast was served the girls huddled around to open gifts, take pictures and then play more. We are so blessed with such a great group of girls for Charli Beth to go through life with! </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_7069_9825_1ff9_292f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7EkKL8vjzvI/WSJlTOeADDI/AAAAAAAAM7E/1j1cPZnm9sIA25Z0Nr6N9xhivNIkgFwzACHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_9115_cca9_7cee_1e01" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sXJpbB8U9Ac/WSJldtIveCI/AAAAAAAAM7c/f5sdpieLtZMxxugRYZ3GITRpCd8JeHragCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_1258_8e0d_4f9_f4bd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-floI6zDoK2M/WSJlVz8DILI/AAAAAAAAM7I/QO7XRzUF238xRiLwtgxYsrgRd2tAz8YVACHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_e4fc_9900_e0df_cbb8" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fFbehsQ_DM0/WSJlYalpL6I/AAAAAAAAM7Q/PSSA4_bPTp4RmEdwA4UkbJz6rdjFVgKpACHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_e741_5322_c0c5_c54e" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zZuhXkYvJkk/WSJlbk4GW6I/AAAAAAAAM7Y/vNRwWTUkKsgedq9O8OReXXNpclGFtq0NwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>Our last addition to the party was asking families to bring in slippers, for "Slipper for Seniors." We collected over 12 pairs ans socks. We will be delivering them to a local nursing home in our area this Friday. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_aad3_3925_86f_8a21" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EtQhHDo83ac/WSJlZ62cTMI/AAAAAAAAM7U/3Y4BkAaJf68m1W4kU_GisWBN_g5irqo6ACHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>This year for her birthday she decided to go rock climbing at a new facility close to our home. I swear this girl is part monkey and as limber as they come. She spent hours climbing up and down, and figuring out how to accomplish each step. We also had dinner together as a family, and Mississippi mud cake for dessert. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_314f_24dd_e238_9b60" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-feXzc6ri9c0/WSJldkKDnEI/AAAAAAAAM7g/8yswmsCs9Bkp37A_1pmrrsjh3ykPgDzowCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"></div><div><br></div><img id="id_f64b_f68c_9df1_99f8" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-X7Iugt80oak/WSJliumuSrI/AAAAAAAAM7k/9VXl93wAX3sCfN5Mjf97lIUUL3SiTqqIgCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <div><br></div><div><img id="id_2dda_2b2b_f06a_dcce" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-JlTpRAPrXzw/WSJlkihLT-I/AAAAAAAAM7s/C5dWK6R0ioktObIIqh7I3ctwcge84KChwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <div><br></div><div><img id="id_439d_5f95_8d4b_a343" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6kauk0zGrFk/WSJlukhcaSI/AAAAAAAAM74/QRxd-5gEaVsuxaE1mxh6mxr779SKbpJ3QCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> </div></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We also had our yearly celebrating with Mimi and Papaw for her, "birthday lunch." Only Charli Beth would pick fried chicken, turnip greens, apples and, "anything else that's good." </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_2da0_6d7e_c5f2_9fca" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Rvah5Ek8p40/WSJlkS191EI/AAAAAAAAM7o/nI_Lt7Xf8zci18D6amI4FD7yrjw00CVoACHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_4b42_4caa_91eb_b3b8" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xymZHc2F1ig/WSJltf-huXI/AAAAAAAAM70/cnkibb-BVXo0CIlMe6UxxIMRBvC7j5_iwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As you can see her Daddy took care of birthday gift purchasing this year. I'm not sure if I could love him more for a thoughtful gift that includes quality time for them together. Some of my fondest memories with my Dad include shooting together and just spending time with one another. What a blessing for Curtis to know how special his days are with Charli, even if it includes deer hunting. Charli's nana also gifted her with the perfect pet stroller to turn into a "chicken stroller." I believe she will spend many summer days walking one of our girls down the lane and back. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_4ebd_f321_e1c0_8378" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--JKTd85PFOw/WSJltcbRPgI/AAAAAAAAM7w/HHnFT6bgls0QvoJPfHwi1LBu_JshJINgwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Our party days may be winding down as Charli gets closer and closer to her teenage years. I hope that no matter how she decides to celebrate her birthday, she always know just how loved she is. </span></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-91898925472200600472017-04-23T09:05:00.001-05:002017-05-03T23:11:13.120-05:00An Untold Story<b><i>"There is no greater agnoy than bearing an untold story inside you." </i></b><div><br></div><div>I recently read this quote and tears filled my eyes at the possibilities that families experience with pain in all situations. I've never thought of a story being untold, until I had one. My life has now become an open book, and for some reason my heart needs to let this story turn into one that is heard. </div><div><br></div><div>Miscarriages are never spoke of. It may be the pain that conversations bring up for the Moms and Dads that have experienced them, or the unknown of what could've become. Statistics show that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. These numbers are devastating. They're not the fault of anyone but sadly, (as much as I've hated hearing the phrase,) "something that just happens." Which is where all of the hurt begins. </div><div><br></div><div>On a March afternoon after leaving school and just having that feeling of, "oh my word, I believe this is finally happening!" Curtis and I found out that baby #3 was soon to be. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_6688_5aa2_8d23_cd38" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IL1R5DbO7jI/WPy0u-vX95I/AAAAAAAAM5s/70ZeuXF_qNYR7wxIPALH9O1m8rgv-QpYgCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>We were nervous, excited and ready for another adventure that God had given us. We playfully argued back and forth about finding out the gender, or not. Wether we would be finished after number 3, or not. How we would tell our parents, our children and our friends. </div><div><br></div><div>I never realized how perfect the highlited scripture was for this experience. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_b650_3543_533f_d611" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LhD530vYe0k/WPy0upuXalI/AAAAAAAAM5o/jjUy56yDwKU7jNCVU0bnNxCo0q9JZmqGACHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>That was until I woke on a Tuesday morning during Spring Break to what would become one of the hardest valleys my life has endured. I continued to read over this scripture as I sat in an ER room waiting for answers of what I already knew was taking place. </div><div><br></div><div>It's true that noone ever tells you how much pain you can hold for someone you've never met. There isn't a number of weeks, numbers in an HCG count, or a line graph of numbers that could show the love a Mother holds for baby. Even though I knew from the moment I left, it was unbearable for me to tell my husband that my body was working against what we thought was our next big adventure. No one prepares you for crying in your husbands arms as daylight is beginning to break. Or going from plans of announcing a pregnancy, to giving them news that your plans have changed. The gasps and smiles as you start to tell your news to family, that quickly change to hugs and tears. Or how when you get a reminder phone call for your first ultrasound and appointment because your doctor's office mistakenly didn't cancel the appointment. Your heart literally just breaks all over again. Loss is loss, and it's just simply hard. A hard that<i> no one</i> can describe. </div><div><br></div><div>Obviously, it's true that miscarriages are <i>not</i> talked about. But they should be.</div><div><br></div><div>We recognize life in so many forms, and we also recognize the passing of life. We grieve with loved ones and total strangers on many occasions throughout life, and grieving is an important role. The Lord even calls us to grieve. Stories of sadness may not be spoke of because they are hard to hear, but sometimes they are what we <u>need</u> to say. I didn't realize how much I needed to speak about this recent experience until one afternoon I blurted it out to two sweet ladies after a PTO meeting. I'm sure I blindsided them, but their responses comforted me and told me that they too would be praying for this valley. </div><div><br></div><div>"<i>God knew we needed you to tell us.</i>"</div><div><br></div><div>I agree and I'm thankful for their words. </div><div><br></div><div>The twelve week rule isn't an etiquette guideline that I've ever followed. But after this journey I personally cannot say I ever will. </div><div><br></div><div>Life is celebrated with reveals, postings, parties, and surprises. Death is a protocol for a memorial or funeral. But a miscarriage death is usually an experience of grief held by only one person, or two. </div><div><br></div><div>No one should ever have to grieve alone. Or feel as if their grief should be hidden. We shouldn't feel as if a miscarriage passing isn't adequate enough to grieve for. </div><div><br></div><div>We should be excited about our pregnancies from the moment we have the first thought of, "Oh could this be?" We should let our loved one surround us with love and encouragement in all situations - easier said than done. And to never fear the judgements like I feared would come. As I told my family and close friends, I told them that I didn't want anyone knowing per the judgement that could follow. But in reality, there isn't judgment to be casted out. </div><div><br></div><div>I've grieved and there are moments that I will still grieve. Even though this was an early pregnancy, there are no words to change what could've been. I've since learned that when you miscarry, it isn't just a physical process but one of emotions from the start to I assume never ending - as grief always just gets better in time. </div><div><br></div><div>My untold story of our could've been may have been full of possibilities. But how thankful I am for a God that loves the broken. One that was also my ear when I had only a few to speak to. Even though I may not ever understand, I know his timing and our "what if's" are his perfect plan. </div><div><br></div><div>I hope that I can be more diligent with being honest in my conversations. It may be hard to talk about, but talks that we need to have. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If you're someone who has <i>not</i> experienced a miscarriage but are a shoulder for some who has, just listen. Let this person know it's okay to feel whatever they need to. Share scripture with them, and just let them be heard.</span> If you're someone who has experienced a miscarriage reach out to someone because you never know if they may be within that 25% that has suffered a miscarriage. For myself, I'm personally trying to grow the introvert out and have these hard talks. They may range from sick children, a busy mom schedule or just someone I know who is in a season of struggle. </div><div><br></div><div>While I'm still in this hallway, I'll continue to praise him until the next door opens, whether it's a rainbow or another hard storm. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Hard things bring us to our knees and I'm not sure about you, but that's exactly what I need most days.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_8d85_9d93_8dad_4d82" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MVUeAXZ836w/WP1vDFV2o2I/AAAAAAAAM58/TWgCv9GmF-seYkGPmyVVTdGoe_CnMDTTgCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-45601052234013722732017-04-19T22:58:00.000-05:002017-04-20T09:56:48.758-05:00Hatching ChicksHatchimals have nothing on my eleven year old farm girl that has a love for not only animals, but for life itself.<br>
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On Christmas, we gave Charli Beth an incubator as a gift. It's seriously nothing fancy but after some research I found that it would do its job and give us many memory making days. To say the least this gift was perfect, and is already the gift that never stops giving and growing.<br>
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In March, I started asking asking for someone to buy fertilized eggs from to start our project. Let me just say that we are blessed to know many kind, loving families that quickly wanted to share with us. We went with a family friend who also babysat Charli Beth as a baby. She had maran, Araucana and wynadotte eggs.<br>
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The perfect combination for all of our wants.<br>
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So we picked our eggs and marked them on one side (we used marker and that was a big mistake apparently. I never even thought of the damage it could do but after reading I realize pencil is best. As my 8 year old self would say.."duh!")<div><br></div><div><img id="id_4197_ca16_18c5_63a3" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8Jw6xIhN5JE/WPimbrhvmXI/AAAAAAAAM40/qbQgDrTS-v4/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br>
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The reason we marked the eggs is because we were turning them three times a day by hand. Typically you can find egg turners for a cheap amount at TSC. But I wanted to give this a try and let Charli B stay more engaged - not that she would ever have a problem doing so. We placed them within the incubator and began our journey of incubating chick eggs.<br>
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It takes 21 days to hatch. 21 long nerve wracking days.<br>
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Are they too hot? Is the Humidity too low? Is this storm going to make us loose power?<br>
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It's literally like being a Mama hen. Don't laugh.<br>
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You can start to see life forming around Day 6/Day 7.<br>
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The veins are spreading and the embryo is very pronounced. Isn't this amazing? It's literally like a chick egg ultrasound. This process is called Egg Candling and is done by a special flashlight.<br>
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Day 10 candling already shows movement! I'm not certain that the videos will post along but I will add them to my Facebook page - Boots, Bows & 5-oh</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_dc37_5d33_fc81_f4ea" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vOd7ZjZkfaY/WPimZtOi3EI/AAAAAAAAM4g/0XR1y76h31s/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br>
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Day 14 was the day to officially throw out eggs that had stopped growing or were not fertile to begin with. On this day we tossed 5. I did crack two of them just to investigate. If you see more than a blood ring within an egg, I do not advise this. The two I opened never started forming after being implanted. There are many reasons this could've occurred.<br>
<br><img id="id_f254_9990_9600_faea" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EGATArylUI0/WPimbSRrTEI/AAAAAAAAM4s/FLZSD4qyxno/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br>(This is a bad egg with a blood ring) </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_df9f_d441_6bbc_2b2" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LLqzYkjzvXU/WPimbPfbmKI/AAAAAAAAM4o/TPs31OOIXhU/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br><br></div><div>
Day 18 is the last official egg candling day. This is also known as, "lock down day." After you candle for the last time you shut the incubator and do not open again until hatching occurs. The eggs need to keep their humidity so the shells do not become soft once pip holes begin. This is SO hard.</div><div>
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Day 20 arrived and of course no hatchings started. I literally thought we had killed them all until the next morning came and a little hole came about. I wanted to stay home all day just to watch, but work calls. We were all so anxious that it was hard to wait. We had to make deals of which kid would be the first in the door to check the incubator. By no surprise, Charli won. But no action had been made. We literally ordered pizza and sat by the incubator until Charli and Bryar went to bed. I returned to my perch after tucking in and reading stories. At 12:20 our first chick hatched. I tried waking little Miss Mama hen, but she didn't budge so I ran back in to start a video for her. It was literally...</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_3bb0_3ce_27c2_1e98" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iYVyte58W0E/WPimbY-Eh9I/AAAAAAAAM4w/LZ_aKxrwm7Y/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br>
<br><img id="id_a101_3069_b00d_954c" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-duqV8l6WFzU/WPimck3bwHI/AAAAAAAAM48/q_NPRCKclIc/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br><img id="id_e062_64eb_4082_1c9a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-JL-iRy7GsJY/WPimcl1GY-I/AAAAAAAAM44/vmVWD8efQW4/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>
The ugliest thing ever, but so very cute and sweet at the same time! I listened to it peep all night long as it not so gracefully walked around to cuddle other eggs.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_94c_d7db_8bd3_b724" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aFSugpxhcBg/WPimf7TAa7I/AAAAAAAAM5M/QaF1ZhCoZqI/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_4a0a_9c2b_7519_6b3a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J7nfJd98AFQ/WPimeba2RDI/AAAAAAAAM5A/UJbjzi1Fv4s/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>As time passed one thing I noticed with our incubator is that it did not help chick dry off properly. I'm not sure why this is, or what I can help do at this point. For this time I spent an Friday night bathing them with hot water on a cotton ball, then blowing drying their little feathers. After this they each immediately went into our brooder under a heat lamp. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_2b6e_f94_e387_9857" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H6kUEkWu-Gc/WPimfdFUn8I/AAAAAAAAM5E/6jKGJBYCRqY/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>As other chicks started to hatch and Charli was sound asleep, I decided to do a live Facebook video. This hatch took 48 mins, and yes 17 people watched the entire time. I'm so glad that I'm not the only person who was anxiously awaiting hatchlings to arrive. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_d91e_9794_ac2c_402" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E7oea2BSJac/WPimfqT9PaI/AAAAAAAAM5I/b3I0_q9zeq4/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_767f_c8cf_7f4_56e2" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rVIPEYmDor8/WPimjEhu1dI/AAAAAAAAM5Y/qtrso1njErA/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>The chicks are now around 3 weeks old. This a latest photo of some from Easter.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_e025_80a8_884b_ad84" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gI-fobiiMSQ/WPimiqf-R9I/AAAAAAAAM5Q/GsVbcUduhaQ/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"></div><div><br></div><div>We hope to start a new hatch in a few weeks when life slows down a bit. For now, I believe we'll continue researching and learning from this experience. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_cf0e_da99_3970_b422" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_7lZmQGIbpU/WPimjOIn-4I/AAAAAAAAM5U/RVlJCYBSonc/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-61547654029898889202017-03-27T22:06:00.001-05:002017-03-28T22:13:51.076-05:00While the door stands closed...Life is but a blur. At least that's what some say. Some days it's never ending, other moments go by just as quickly as they arrived. I spend my days worrying over what's next, or how I'll create that next moment worth adding to the top of the memory bank. I live for days that are simple and uncostly, as I've found they sometime cherish the most meaningful memories. Other memories are precious just for the memory making.<br>
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I love all just the same.</div>
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I've recently been wondering why things happen the way the do. Or why they do not happen.<br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGD4ydnvZ9Q-QzQpHEwMdT8xgOcbRvBR_ppdQDN2pCqOYfEuB46gg7fMUAZZ4UVNo8VmWJ_sl2F6qwXDXMd3MTuVJ1YnR972s_BJUGLOA9ypVM7xpUOMbcj_TBieD6HOccf2Dc-MlcYwf/s640/blogger-image--407033104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGD4ydnvZ9Q-QzQpHEwMdT8xgOcbRvBR_ppdQDN2pCqOYfEuB46gg7fMUAZZ4UVNo8VmWJ_sl2F6qwXDXMd3MTuVJ1YnR972s_BJUGLOA9ypVM7xpUOMbcj_TBieD6HOccf2Dc-MlcYwf/s640/blogger-image--407033104.jpg"></a></div><br></div>
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It's a little over my pay grade as a sinful human undeserving of grace to question God's plans. Some days I understand, actually most days I do. But we all fall short and have our moments of wonders. I have them more often than I would like to say. I then find myself in the mix of a powerful moment, and could almost laugh out loud at the irony as I'm saying "ok God, I get it."</div>
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I may not have the fancy cars, a blog that is worldly known, or clothes that are perfectly stitched with brands we've all known. What I do have is two children smiling along with me most days as we create memories. A husband that knows I'm here for him when he needs to share some crazy adventure with. A mom who is a phone call away. A sister who gets my crazy messages, and my "person" who just gets me - crazy and all. </div>
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Gods plan may not be my plan, and I'm okay with that. While I wait within this hall, I'll worship while the next door either starts to open, or barricades it's self. </div>
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While I ask that you pray for my heart as I do not waste pain.<br>
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That while a door stands closed before me, that I find beauty in the hallways while waiting. Each door has a new adventure or memory before it. I just hope that I can relax and be willing to take it all in.<br>
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Recently, the kids and I were able to take a, "fun day" and go with my home church snow tubing at Perfect North. It's been a long time since I can recall such smiles and pure fun. I remember thinking about the perfect moments of the day, and reminding myself that these moments are all around me. Two growing children who love to laugh, smile and adventure. I couldn't be anymore thankful for just that.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_I4588wDgG8ERUTTtaC-4KfjwuwIbSCwIVtNRUq5Jciq6gH0meSqSnsdIm5JGfwZHoN96kGMQoX1oGu6ZYB7urqiR_Ik3TuFn0Nd__hTHDO4Zrpf23IPDNolRxohKgVZERFdBdwAMDe_h/s640/blogger-image--1828633536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_I4588wDgG8ERUTTtaC-4KfjwuwIbSCwIVtNRUq5Jciq6gH0meSqSnsdIm5JGfwZHoN96kGMQoX1oGu6ZYB7urqiR_Ik3TuFn0Nd__hTHDO4Zrpf23IPDNolRxohKgVZERFdBdwAMDe_h/s640/blogger-image--1828633536.jpg"></a></div><br>
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Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-47943558060378787892017-02-06T22:07:00.001-06:002017-02-06T22:35:54.036-06:00Chaotic PeaceAs we grow older, the years seem to become shorter with each passing season. The weeks fly by, and then it seems a new year is here facing us once again. I remember being a child and thinking the days would never pass by quickly enough for Christmas, my birthday or Easter to arrive. My own daughter even checks the days off on her own calendar counting down until each new week comes to be. <div><br></div><div>Even though I love growing older and watching my babies do the same, sometimes it's just perfect to slow down, stop and enjoy. Life can be so hectic and some days I bring my own version of mindful hectic to reality. But I long for the days where the sun is shining and the world is practically begging you to see the beauty in each little moment. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrlaq3E4HSW23TC3m59eP0vu6TR-zKhQ7k3FcaP1Ctq7Y5isxCXIOaC1qXO9VkhB7LYrpY1sZ6jmFUk6ly98uUSWajQILsr4D4c-d0W8vaLqhHj3gY7TCIGGRY2X3UGbqp8tpmx7WBSUM-/s640/blogger-image-1825644712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrlaq3E4HSW23TC3m59eP0vu6TR-zKhQ7k3FcaP1Ctq7Y5isxCXIOaC1qXO9VkhB7LYrpY1sZ6jmFUk6ly98uUSWajQILsr4D4c-d0W8vaLqhHj3gY7TCIGGRY2X3UGbqp8tpmx7WBSUM-/s640/blogger-image-1825644712.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>As a child I remember walking creek beds just searching for an adventure . Or seeing how far I could take myself without ever getting lost. But even the simple moments of watching too much tv was good for my little soul, that was tired of what I thought was a busy world. How life is almost comical to make us believe the world can be so tough be at such young ages. But then again, we don't know what their little minds are holding in or how they've experienced life for the day. </div><div><br></div><div>Even through our own stresses and worries we're merely blinded to the fact that our children also need that moment of reassurance. That isn't just the reassurance of love, but of grace and mercy. As a Mother, I'm far too often jumping to conclusions rather than holding the peace. It's part of my faults as a person. Sometimes in the middle of a moment of parenting I think, "create the peace, don't join the choas" with the choas still stirring I don't listen to my inner thoughts. Within moments I'm Mommy shaming myself until the next parenting praise. Or I'm thinking about how my Dad would silently whisper, "leave that poor baby alone" even though he knew I was parenting - for he greater good. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHXtLK_pJiCkNoR8FAwbie7zw8YgJ_ZoaN4vnFQF-CPM6Dkqc0NmMD8REzzoEJEmq3s1C2fNKM-x5zEcjkecxT8j3s8Wk64gXxUTaC_70ol3MZeHbvZZovP-74FfEWf-PMK1it18CM4-9/s640/blogger-image--1912913745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHXtLK_pJiCkNoR8FAwbie7zw8YgJ_ZoaN4vnFQF-CPM6Dkqc0NmMD8REzzoEJEmq3s1C2fNKM-x5zEcjkecxT8j3s8Wk64gXxUTaC_70ol3MZeHbvZZovP-74FfEWf-PMK1it18CM4-9/s640/blogger-image--1912913745.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>While I may need the slow down, and the moments to take in of silence. These little humans may too. Tonight we spent the afternoon running a few errands, having dinner, stopping for donuts and then pulling into the park while I screamed "last one out is a rockin' egg" {Rockin egg = rotten egg for the littlest} It took a few moments of convincing that I'm not a loon and if the police showed up, we would shake their hands and remind them that Daddy is home with the stomach bug. While I tend to freak the holy haystacks out when the bug is present, I somehow turned my night around with these thoughts...</div><div><br></div><div>"These are the moments they'll never remember, but I'll never forget."</div><div><br></div><div>They may not remember thirty minutes we spent screaming to jump the hay rolls, but I'll remember the first smile during the landing. She probably won't remember me climbing the monkey bars, but I'll never forget the laughter while we played tagged on this warm Feburary night. They may {Mommy fail} wake up with croup, but I'll be darn if we didn't have fun. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghI6WAP97tWfuhfa-3LL1KI1snu9pVMtzYJRJI2-k_rdkNJ1H3bNk1mRtPKjOesRQ78pAsIZ7lxGOG6c5nGhyphenhyphen_Tt7rcgG7lasO9cti0J8X6ZlD5oLNvGhHcDm-hdq6m3O6q5462sd_3n31/s640/blogger-image-1736138673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghI6WAP97tWfuhfa-3LL1KI1snu9pVMtzYJRJI2-k_rdkNJ1H3bNk1mRtPKjOesRQ78pAsIZ7lxGOG6c5nGhyphenhyphen_Tt7rcgG7lasO9cti0J8X6ZlD5oLNvGhHcDm-hdq6m3O6q5462sd_3n31/s640/blogger-image-1736138673.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>We may cause choas in our moments of memory making, and if we do that's okay. Just take the next moment to pause, smile at them {they may need that slight moment of reassurance, just as we do} and remember these moments pass way too often. </div><div>For now, I'll be spending the rest of this non-snowy winter jumping hay - or finding my way out of the chaos. Either way, I sure I hope I never forget these moments. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcUhyOHucOD7JkkOeShsCD4G2ehQbzBkEQX6sswGDUynrHudK89rhHIqdZ19iw2-P4q-A-Tf-cbl6n67MoKnQdvKYsbYd5Aujhq4IJi0DJr7YiHAj_0odItUH1Dm6ljmZadIS5wXYpoOlE/s640/blogger-image-1893318847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcUhyOHucOD7JkkOeShsCD4G2ehQbzBkEQX6sswGDUynrHudK89rhHIqdZ19iw2-P4q-A-Tf-cbl6n67MoKnQdvKYsbYd5Aujhq4IJi0DJr7YiHAj_0odItUH1Dm6ljmZadIS5wXYpoOlE/s640/blogger-image-1893318847.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-9293310560198971692017-01-19T23:32:00.001-06:002017-01-23T17:32:24.317-06:00Be The Good.<div align="center" style="text-align: start;"><em style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"The world is full of good people. If you can't find one, be one."</em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: start;"><em style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: start;"><em style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxXixI3y3KnXLH_2zGO5z8z5osNO0O2DBpw46XZj0gwOuwwHsfxNuorGeesvRS59Ewipn_HumTV5ZivIbrs0RZtHjJylNuRoM7e9y8LwTxsKh99In3kBj5aHwPsH1pLV1kBGMuRL2UNSB/s640/blogger-image-1083521052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxXixI3y3KnXLH_2zGO5z8z5osNO0O2DBpw46XZj0gwOuwwHsfxNuorGeesvRS59Ewipn_HumTV5ZivIbrs0RZtHjJylNuRoM7e9y8LwTxsKh99In3kBj5aHwPsH1pLV1kBGMuRL2UNSB/s640/blogger-image-1083521052.jpg"></a></div><br></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A wise person once stated this quote and although, I am uncertain who said it (because lets face it you cannot believe everything you read on the interwebz.) I truly believe that there is no truer words than those spoken, especially during the times we are facing as a country at this moment. I've really let myself down lately by complaining and gripping. I've been frustrated with how things are turning out in my own experiences, but also just flabbergasted at the society we are living in as well. I have failed at the expectations that I set for myself, and the ones that were set for me too. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It wasn't until today that I read this comment for the fifth time, and thought over my day that I realized how incorrectly my outlook has been. My struggles over the last year have been known publically through my blog and various social media sites. At one time, I was a quiet person about my feelings. I sucked it up, and got over it. At this stage in my life, I feel better venting and even crying sometimes. I'm not sure which is right, or wrong. But what is best for me in the moment I am facing, seems to be the one that I turn to. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I cannot say that I understand life at this stage. There seems to be a lot of experiences happening that are continuing to turn me into a new person. But one thing known to be true is to not let bad experiences or moments turn you into a bad person. It's so cliche but then again very true. From a girl who turned bad experiences as a child, into even worse. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Loosing your way, typically means finding a new person on your new path.</span></div><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I've literally become this new "Paige" like 47 times, and I've yet to hit age 30. I can only hope that each time, the person within me becomes a little better. I'll sadly never forget right after high school, I became closer friends with a girl and she stated something to the assumption of "I don't even really know who you are. In high school you were just ...scary."</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Thank the Heavens above that people now laugh at this story. Along with the stories of how I tested my limits one too many times. But boy, does it make my stomach turn that this is the past people know me as. Wouldn't it be nice if people could ease into forgiveness and new light just as Christ does? Even better what if we were able to do this within our marriages. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am the worlds absolute worst at holding grudges. Especially grudges I can hang onto that my dear Husband helps me behold. But honestly, that's another post for another day. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The heart topic that is truly pulling at my heart strings tonight is one that is overflowing within my little piece of a hometown. A town that has no more than eight stop lights, five gas stations, and one school system. It's a town that I spent most of my years growing up in, and one that supported me as a single Mom with a wonderful occupaton as a 911 telecommunicator for nearly five years. A community that has taken my bad experiences, and showed me how to love life into the new path I would face. A town with a heart bigger than the size of the state that we live within, as they all helped support my family during the recent loss of my Dad. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I've watched this little southern town come together, lock arms and pray for a tragedy that shook the community. We held candles, sang, prayed and spoke highly of how all were coming together to support the hurting hearts within the community. It was truly amazing to be a witness to that event. To drive home, cry tears and explain to my nine year old daughter at the time that this is how the world should react when things happen a such. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">But tonight friends, I'm ashamed.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm ashamed that the little town that I've blogged, commented and raved to my new small community about is going downhill all over a political view. I'm ashamed that the bashing and the opinions have become more than friendship. I'm angry that people believe that just because a town isn't growing within certain aspects that it's lousy and "piss poor" as one would say. I'm hurt that this experience, is shedding light to citizens who aren't willing to accept the good within our world. I'm disgusted that no matter how the election results will read next week, at the end... The devil has won.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">How may you ask? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Go check Facebook.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Facebook has become this place that helps each of us lonely old folks feel as if our opinions matter, when I'll be honest - they don't. But what matters, is your character. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Character; What you do when no one else is looking. </i></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If you are acting ugly as an individual in plain view through comments, or Facebook feeds, all due to your opinion, then we have much larger problems.This goes for the Christian, and for the non-believers as well. Our issues as a county, and even a country with President Elect Donald Trump's inauguration tomorrow are running much deeper than a vote no to alcohol sales sign. Our issues are simply lying with the hearts of each of us, including yours truly. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">At the end of the day, you are not going to sway the opinion of the person that is on the other end of the computer. You will not feel justification in being the last to comment in a Facebook war - trust me, I've been there. But what you will feel is embarrassed and ashamed the next time you view the other person face to face. You will feel that burning in your heart, to do the right thing. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So, can we all just agree on one thing? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">To be kind and loving.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> Let's not let the devil win this one, folks. Let's stop now, and start being the community that I've bragged on. You haven't let me down in the past, so for the love of man kind, let's get it together. Shake hands, lock arms, and continue being the small community that supports one another in hard times, rather than causing more grief. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It's been five years since I've left the county that I am speaking of. I travel one of the main roads continuously to visit. I for one, love this lousy little town and would hate for anything to ever change it or the sweet atmosphere that it holds. There have been many tragedies over the past year, and my mind cannot help but to recall of how much the citizens of the United States proudly wore the stripes of our nation after the horrible attack of 9/11. But now we seem to be more divided than ever. The devil is winning and everyday we are getting further behind in the race of continuing to be the greatest nation in the world. Don't let this happen to your community. Continue lifting one another up, loving your neighbor and upholding your character. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Keep calm, classy and Christian. Let's don't go into that path of having to find yourself, because sometimes it's an ugly feeling. A feeling that I too, wish I could avoid most days. Be the good within the world, that you are hoping to find. </span></div></div><div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-39435738779570211442017-01-17T19:28:00.001-06:002017-01-17T19:28:53.093-06:00On the 6th day of Christmas Break...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm forever behind in my blogging nights and at times I'm not so sure that I'll ever catch up. But this wouldn't be a Mommy blog, if I didn't post for the entire world to see my failure as a Mother... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-vGdE7AMKXonVn8vfWNV7xVC43oYj1YtCdPUAlI2KM1xTQY8dABj65bZq3UgRtWW0rXCfPSt06Owc38CXwb66D4R0GM16EsEdFaYO_ZgSJtw5FI8vJMsJipfRSSoKVTwht-0t4nvidf_/s640/blogger-image--1262530103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-vGdE7AMKXonVn8vfWNV7xVC43oYj1YtCdPUAlI2KM1xTQY8dABj65bZq3UgRtWW0rXCfPSt06Owc38CXwb66D4R0GM16EsEdFaYO_ZgSJtw5FI8vJMsJipfRSSoKVTwht-0t4nvidf_/s640/blogger-image--1262530103.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It looked a little like this...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But all begin while that little superhero on the left and I were Christmas shopping for the sister while she was at a birthday party. Not just any regular party, but an ice skating one. We were walking through Hobby Lobby as my phone rang and the sweet Mama on the other end said Charli had taken a fall. Oh, big deal right?! She's ice skating, call me back if she's really hurt. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Well, of course a physical therapist was right by taking a look and thought her wrist needed some attention. But still not I.. The know if all Mom who would then pick up the child, and drive her to a nearby urgent clinic as I touched and poked around on it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I checked in all while asking how to check back out if we ended up thinking she didn't need xrays. The looks from the receptionist were quiet astonishing. 😳 So, we stayed and laughed about the bill we would have for a non-broken arm... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Until... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCfZDdkJugO58FEY6t3kFHwe0WqDyufoUgxJ49QeyPe0_jWuYNdSlHRpQqBZs4MHL38BH2BCey1Ahk3fCqAoXWJ1PW4A-7y8J-v3Telsr74WraOYRYrG1WzGoOphPj62iGX6nA9S5CpYZ/s640/blogger-image--1895165396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCfZDdkJugO58FEY6t3kFHwe0WqDyufoUgxJ49QeyPe0_jWuYNdSlHRpQqBZs4MHL38BH2BCey1Ahk3fCqAoXWJ1PW4A-7y8J-v3Telsr74WraOYRYrG1WzGoOphPj62iGX6nA9S5CpYZ/s640/blogger-image--1895165396.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It was actually broken. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The look, the laughter, the "I told you so...", the jokes were just overly funny but Charli's face was just priceless. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYqBpgHOD7dED8R0lMAzuQoXNnEzmaZyf-VWrST_oU10OOLcMMRsOSXFfs2WScxUXCTSAyBkdWqpHcC05SFA0nMvTS6upRqvFwH-na-fTo978rBD7A0wRGjjERLCeYDIHx6dTFu7FWQy96/s640/blogger-image--715833739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYqBpgHOD7dED8R0lMAzuQoXNnEzmaZyf-VWrST_oU10OOLcMMRsOSXFfs2WScxUXCTSAyBkdWqpHcC05SFA0nMvTS6upRqvFwH-na-fTo978rBD7A0wRGjjERLCeYDIHx6dTFu7FWQy96/s640/blogger-image--715833739.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We started our Christmas journey out with a hot pink cast and Tylenol to be safe. In a short three weeks later, she was able to get her cast off and is still sporting her splint for a few more weeks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3yowkUvTzQPBJObi97mJi-gP_pkRq0w0n08rLpnESbnrcEYHoSKps-Ev9e2yFId4vuVNh8AHF5qLsjRPUDJ6gC4XhJxdYxyA8PYJV1KJElX-A8ko6NC8YXFU7JZn4GwY6felHJxop6PIN/s640/blogger-image-869203651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3yowkUvTzQPBJObi97mJi-gP_pkRq0w0n08rLpnESbnrcEYHoSKps-Ev9e2yFId4vuVNh8AHF5qLsjRPUDJ6gC4XhJxdYxyA8PYJV1KJElX-A8ko6NC8YXFU7JZn4GwY6felHJxop6PIN/s640/blogger-image-869203651.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8RmyAmlbuDaWT-ZLI7rZzF9KPjKmwbZtB4nULebCKRm6_xLcBecoo4BxkdHTkxcPGfAOkag0edqIJOLOgpvSwoT4jWQaDTjNvDsRJgDhAeuGJlVIkL1mhfFTx3lyenAogCss5k0aJ6ZC/s640/blogger-image--1741161381.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8RmyAmlbuDaWT-ZLI7rZzF9KPjKmwbZtB4nULebCKRm6_xLcBecoo4BxkdHTkxcPGfAOkag0edqIJOLOgpvSwoT4jWQaDTjNvDsRJgDhAeuGJlVIkL1mhfFTx3lyenAogCss5k0aJ6ZC/s640/blogger-image--1741161381.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I won't lie and say that I'll always believe the broken bones but next time I won't be "as tough" on my little fragile child 😂I'm just still overly surprised the our wild man wasn't the first to break a bone. But he was the first to stick a button inside of his ear. Because you know every little boy needs a descret way to speak to his navy seal partners. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Thankfully, I was at school and was able to get it out without anymore medical bills piling up. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtB5UNZtTz135gcdKDMvXqSUnaGDHyGLHnCkHH_N0vrNm2qq6j0RYcntJJnabw7VObZfUSYLUVQwjr3p_-6MtDzo8kWdDVl9yjIHY8dGrN_NCHSLmAfj5x6bB8HN1fuiHtDFalhWu3dB7J/s640/blogger-image-339946692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtB5UNZtTz135gcdKDMvXqSUnaGDHyGLHnCkHH_N0vrNm2qq6j0RYcntJJnabw7VObZfUSYLUVQwjr3p_-6MtDzo8kWdDVl9yjIHY8dGrN_NCHSLmAfj5x6bB8HN1fuiHtDFalhWu3dB7J/s640/blogger-image-339946692.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Lesson learned but I'm sure they're not over with just yet. </div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-23756308309090312682016-12-27T14:13:00.001-06:002016-12-27T14:13:02.611-06:00Our Christmas ProjectChristmas is a time of joy, family gatherings and memory making. But for families that have lost a significant member of their family, it holds emotions of all different sorts. I'm certain that those feeling never really change, and things just become a little more ordinary with a new way of life over the years. But this year I was rushed by my own faults and started shopping late. Then I would end up tearing up in aisles and have to walk out. "oh, there's a plaid shirt marcel would love..." Then my heart was done. <div><br></div><div>But something that helped me throughout this Christmas season was a project that I had been longing to do. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOv7f36aY0Y0-bfu1-U8XFQ30_dQv9tpi6lajTgCfgyizq4lvZc6_iEqB0lHbJUzSnqJNZErRrdyp0hwskZ6ot_-w6Wm7LNI1wgtZNmByuM-ftR0a15F70nc3P6EVhs7Ge0XT4dGrfuKJ/s640/blogger-image-966783122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOv7f36aY0Y0-bfu1-U8XFQ30_dQv9tpi6lajTgCfgyizq4lvZc6_iEqB0lHbJUzSnqJNZErRrdyp0hwskZ6ot_-w6Wm7LNI1wgtZNmByuM-ftR0a15F70nc3P6EVhs7Ge0XT4dGrfuKJ/s640/blogger-image-966783122.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Pinterest is such a wonderful thing for ideas for crafty creative souls, like mine longs to be. But when I found this item months ago, I just knew it had to be accomplished. </div><div><br></div><div>Thankfully, my Dad was a hoarder of clothing a items - much like my own husband. So, my Mom picked the perfect shirts and purchased pillow inserts for all the women, best friend and grandchildren of our family.{Her ability to carry own, and find happiness in making others happy continues to amaze me.}</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZZ7_e8XDAkPYdnpi3ieDqcHddBBrBVSS6ttB17yZ5-0FqiF8lXuB1-RywHlqVn6NdqrexKUjPNw68jVJqrcYVAa4CXLdC8Et5TAIo4yyxk7qynuKaW1tlQ8tnDQU4krsYl_DBBjAHgag/s640/blogger-image-1122515965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZZ7_e8XDAkPYdnpi3ieDqcHddBBrBVSS6ttB17yZ5-0FqiF8lXuB1-RywHlqVn6NdqrexKUjPNw68jVJqrcYVAa4CXLdC8Et5TAIo4yyxk7qynuKaW1tlQ8tnDQU4krsYl_DBBjAHgag/s640/blogger-image-1122515965.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0Y7ru3e-Flu7N_ZAxJy8sSKM-THicfShsYRMPoXauKFr2WBotm5WCrkEGB8Osj0F5uAy6qA0-nrFeRwjMnhOWdO9QoxQFXGnmtmqC-0xpw_PvzXH_xHc2rEBpBFwYCalnrZc8AqnCMMy/s640/blogger-image--1650139229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0Y7ru3e-Flu7N_ZAxJy8sSKM-THicfShsYRMPoXauKFr2WBotm5WCrkEGB8Osj0F5uAy6qA0-nrFeRwjMnhOWdO9QoxQFXGnmtmqC-0xpw_PvzXH_xHc2rEBpBFwYCalnrZc8AqnCMMy/s640/blogger-image--1650139229.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJheAwvhnuk7lhRAs4deaFGK3beZAANIR3L8pacarpjISgCbsmgtjjfADx-mZFseT7b9f0YFB7QHulqbrPYkRJ18ZdrexWX81xYGdN3ow_bnn-V2eLiuTfYJsGlpRKl11rzFFbBE-WZIc/s640/blogger-image-497028778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJheAwvhnuk7lhRAs4deaFGK3beZAANIR3L8pacarpjISgCbsmgtjjfADx-mZFseT7b9f0YFB7QHulqbrPYkRJ18ZdrexWX81xYGdN3ow_bnn-V2eLiuTfYJsGlpRKl11rzFFbBE-WZIc/s640/blogger-image-497028778.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>My wonderful Mother in law never hesitated in helping me with this project, even with a cold and house guests of her own. We spent an afternoon cutting, measuring, pinning and sewing together nine fantastic pillows made from Marcel's shirts. </div><div><br></div><div>The first product made me cry tears of more emotions than this sentence can hold. It brought me pure joy to know that these items would posses great meaning to all who received one. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimdFUj141qsuNZ55L9JGIwvhNo-1JLhBRVzhnou96uJpqK_LiH7-xZ3UeV5HMUJWb2B5dco9Ft-CdJyO0Vc_6EWq51IrcqFk__wK2yiqknvtnXtWxMB1OuuCz7kckK9lBWniZ9zL-YRaIL/s640/blogger-image--796260001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimdFUj141qsuNZ55L9JGIwvhNo-1JLhBRVzhnou96uJpqK_LiH7-xZ3UeV5HMUJWb2B5dco9Ft-CdJyO0Vc_6EWq51IrcqFk__wK2yiqknvtnXtWxMB1OuuCz7kckK9lBWniZ9zL-YRaIL/s640/blogger-image--796260001.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vl4Extr2-CXSSwT-IiFmuKk0gt8Rn3eV1_a6Gp-m59SLLlZ3xM5viLsYs6WCpTtslIZoqkKzAEu1EjgVbDKcUAEFjAa-YLr2JWqlELXJaq7kGhKZwys4R6KrgkfVRLjbQBGtxNlAnB9n/s640/blogger-image--2128811602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vl4Extr2-CXSSwT-IiFmuKk0gt8Rn3eV1_a6Gp-m59SLLlZ3xM5viLsYs6WCpTtslIZoqkKzAEu1EjgVbDKcUAEFjAa-YLr2JWqlELXJaq7kGhKZwys4R6KrgkfVRLjbQBGtxNlAnB9n/s640/blogger-image--2128811602.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>This project made my Christmas joyful and meaningful. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">From the fireball wrapper tucked away in a pocket to the grease spot near his belly each shirt held a perfect meaning. A meaning of a great man, the great legend of marcel. Shinning chrome surrounded trucks, to carrying in his bible each Sunday to church. We will forever miss this family staple of a man, but I hope we can always find the joy in all he left behind for us. </span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq5444WWxG6h3nIVkHtat-cW8TiqNNkEclyzMsE7bljjMSJIVRAb0reKWSm-1dl68DLGiwzjazXTtDySP6pfWHx6x7YS5gyLjybVV8LkyjZ8A4P7yF19SUFwIvRLySBHaLEgljGo0LsD6Y/s640/blogger-image-365814889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq5444WWxG6h3nIVkHtat-cW8TiqNNkEclyzMsE7bljjMSJIVRAb0reKWSm-1dl68DLGiwzjazXTtDySP6pfWHx6x7YS5gyLjybVV8LkyjZ8A4P7yF19SUFwIvRLySBHaLEgljGo0LsD6Y/s640/blogger-image-365814889.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJZ2tYlyx8HtuBdx9QRA4JpeMoC6lZYnA7-EsnFmeJS5e3pPVAmeHXKukll_WzLj8SSO01VaPyJQzAGRftwSe6CU89CWl754nGbwsxJjqCIF5DX_Q2FhUpev95HYVqJVnrZeRXusavUH-/s640/blogger-image--698915603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJZ2tYlyx8HtuBdx9QRA4JpeMoC6lZYnA7-EsnFmeJS5e3pPVAmeHXKukll_WzLj8SSO01VaPyJQzAGRftwSe6CU89CWl754nGbwsxJjqCIF5DX_Q2FhUpev95HYVqJVnrZeRXusavUH-/s640/blogger-image--698915603.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-18276754613542756622016-11-19T22:04:00.001-06:002016-11-19T22:42:09.962-06:00A Day Like Today.<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"And the memory of a day like today<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">Could get you through the rest of your life..."</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; color: rgb(77, 77, 77); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif, Arial; letter-spacing: 0.16500000655651093px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaV6JfilzEENCvhAx7diX0_6kozNKco4zSH9Dkpi5pmIgUsq4jjFx_3X5jkkJU_hK4GqcdNSlXa2o2QI51zaBc4ydsSQ1Se036yLuqOpzIy4zz8NtNEJDHoBqfkbfrK_WENSJi7vPH1QTh/s640/blogger-image-1230116704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaV6JfilzEENCvhAx7diX0_6kozNKco4zSH9Dkpi5pmIgUsq4jjFx_3X5jkkJU_hK4GqcdNSlXa2o2QI51zaBc4ydsSQ1Se036yLuqOpzIy4zz8NtNEJDHoBqfkbfrK_WENSJi7vPH1QTh/s640/blogger-image-1230116704.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">In the middle of parenthood, life can throw some pretty sour lemons at marriages. You can look over at the love of your life, and your heart can skip a beat all while you're wanting to chop his feisty little neck. It's just the reality of it. We spend our lives trying to appease too many lives. All while we sometimes forget the ones standing in front of us. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My husband and I are excruciatingly bad at this. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Words cannot even describe how bad. He likes his work, and he loves to do manly man things. I love my work, and I also overly love my kids most moments, days, weeks, years... Too much. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I'm simply a jerk to him a lot because I'm overly jealous of his ability to do things that Mothers simply can't. It's wrong, I know. But it's also human nature. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">If you're here looking for advice on how to change the jerk face you are to your spouse, look on friends. I haven't quite mastered that skills yet. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">But today was a good day. On Thursday Curtis asked me if I would come over to his "deer camp" to eat breakfast and hunt with him. Even though I love hunting {and food} I made many excuses of why I couldn't. They ranged from being sleepy, to finding overnight care for our little loves. Finally I let buck fever catch up with me, took one for the team and purchased my license so I had to go. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">And God am I thankful I did. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Did I shoot the buck I've been waiting six years for? No. Did we ever see a whitetail? No. But I sat next to my husband for hours upon hours just soaking it up. Creepily watching one another catch a few snoozes. We silently laughed. And as "cupcaking" as it sounds I even caught myself admiring him for the qualities I often forget about him. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Our day wasn't glorious by any means. It was actually a very cold, windy, boring, belly growling, crossing legs because you have to pee so bad but cannot type of day. But I needed this day with him. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">So, as wives and mothers let's stop making those excuses and just give it a try. I can promise you at the end of the day, when you already know it's been a good day then a sappy love song comes on the radio and it makes you smile... It will be totally worth it. So, make the memories, live a little and enjoy your spouse for all of the, "today's."</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-89529211291337617682016-11-06T07:19:00.001-06:002016-11-06T07:19:42.455-06:00This is Halloween, Halloween...Halloween is probably my absolute favorite. I love the day. I love the tricks, but I love the treats even more so. Each year Charli typically picks a theme and then we incorporate Bryar's costume by asking him what he would like to be. This year was no different and it was super fun. My children never seem to fail me in the fun and cute zone, which I'm overly thankful for because me... I could probably ruin it all with non-crafty, bad mood, rushing on time frames, and busy madness. Hashtag mom life. <div><br></div><div>This year Charli picked circus theme. Which fits us very well. </div><div><br></div><div>First she wanted to be a ringmaster, and Bryar to be the loin. Which would've worked perfectly because our little guy has one very fercious roar that he's been working on for quiet sometime. But I mentioned being a mime, and then ten year old took over. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nwiG7vCcmkNCrSW9BtBqQcwxeFnA9YTZQST-ok2x3Os_VdDWerHUI2u-yxJKtn3SQxMGDLJ6UuJWw-hGoOidzFhyphenhyphenfW9m_IQ-Q6qA379Nuf2vTNz1DJZm0x2zPw77TV9b3Lsr6GZQOUjC/s640/blogger-image--1392476463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nwiG7vCcmkNCrSW9BtBqQcwxeFnA9YTZQST-ok2x3Os_VdDWerHUI2u-yxJKtn3SQxMGDLJ6UuJWw-hGoOidzFhyphenhyphenfW9m_IQ-Q6qA379Nuf2vTNz1DJZm0x2zPw77TV9b3Lsr6GZQOUjC/s640/blogger-image--1392476463.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And of course Bryar would be nothing other than a Strongman. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I mean look at those muscle and mustache. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj716gpYmzSsPmtaKH_k_BM_TE1Iqv7J9a5EGZQ9remfB2GiNRA5QSGBTcc1WLIoSqNy5-YR17aavg9Pdkb0f29Y2YSjbNRLVt6ZMTnah1VWkAUALbJkWBXcw9DsHRRSLgawBYU63oIrXLm/s640/blogger-image-615741086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj716gpYmzSsPmtaKH_k_BM_TE1Iqv7J9a5EGZQ9remfB2GiNRA5QSGBTcc1WLIoSqNy5-YR17aavg9Pdkb0f29Y2YSjbNRLVt6ZMTnah1VWkAUALbJkWBXcw9DsHRRSLgawBYU63oIrXLm/s640/blogger-image-615741086.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Charli took her role of mine very firmly and wouldn't speak. Blessing to my ears for those minutes of peace. But she used a sign to say trick of treat, along with the back saying, "Thank you" Everyone loved her costume and the sign even more so. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkTxeGz6LWtjlwI7jEWb_pTX7xQspeOoHk0SRdJF9D-xmynDrnE08mnTHZCnrRAJXdRDYeYJ7z0n514YmZnS7X791N1Wuiyhd65WiJ47d6LIQFYYI_W7e-HF_YRGSBJxUD9gmiIu05UsW/s640/blogger-image-1899176700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkTxeGz6LWtjlwI7jEWb_pTX7xQspeOoHk0SRdJF9D-xmynDrnE08mnTHZCnrRAJXdRDYeYJ7z0n514YmZnS7X791N1Wuiyhd65WiJ47d6LIQFYYI_W7e-HF_YRGSBJxUD9gmiIu05UsW/s640/blogger-image-1899176700.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>For me, I was just my regular old Pig self turning into a pig in a blanket with my sweet coworker. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBolbOA98XZXZapiP7kfzjr-_2R6YYhQ5dgQUVZIM0KNIkYLELtxeIsJX4h5n5H5R6H1CFoOXoqG4pTK16jy3XDwI4BCHu7yoTKXlJ0PlQDeAwMxB0rmXWAMosrZLme4-ZxxYgJ6dC4zNl/s640/blogger-image--1314668998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBolbOA98XZXZapiP7kfzjr-_2R6YYhQ5dgQUVZIM0KNIkYLELtxeIsJX4h5n5H5R6H1CFoOXoqG4pTK16jy3XDwI4BCHu7yoTKXlJ0PlQDeAwMxB0rmXWAMosrZLme4-ZxxYgJ6dC4zNl/s640/blogger-image--1314668998.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>The quickest and easiest costume ever. </div><div><br></div><div>I had no idea Halloween morning that my precious friend in the above photo with me had nominated me to win an award through our school system. Typically we are not able to attend morning meeting with our school since we have preschoolers arriving at this time. But Christina told me that we were participating in the costume contest for teachers and we headed down. While down there I was surprised to see that it was not a contest but I had actually won the Golden Apple award. It was very sweet and more than precious of her to nominate me for this. But I'm sure she was able to get a good laugh that I was dressed as a pig taking pictures with the principal and superintendent. </div><div><br></div><div>Some people are not a fan of Halloween. But the joy that it brings to children and adults alike is just precious to me. We had fun and just like that the "thriller" was gone, now Christmas items are popping up all over the stores... While I'm screaming to respect the turkey ;) </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-80779483712778466562016-10-19T20:58:00.001-05:002016-10-19T20:58:01.086-05:00Camp Bryar - Bryar Turns 5!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUq5Iz4D2O478LIN0B8s4lc5W2X9CkpGFQwGsuaAYvC3obaOFE4pnkJdW2K1sv2WEbITlU0t1lfx_xNTwSv_BtFjsO4dKojA2CDdo4YPbu7VF0BV-DJbDQAiDvB48MzPGLsoCiDvQJlOl/s640/blogger-image--84379096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyO9d2r2gAii29X4J0rjKJPvjZJhzr2iwcR6a5rLJRrRKQiiatKo59oDbqhYFmcTCkLUcOqjuzpA2UqmP91Sz3hxChluuWMx3ztXoU2oANjSlklETlkDYpHyASSZR-gcqspTR41aiVPQbW/s640/blogger-image--62473979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyO9d2r2gAii29X4J0rjKJPvjZJhzr2iwcR6a5rLJRrRKQiiatKo59oDbqhYFmcTCkLUcOqjuzpA2UqmP91Sz3hxChluuWMx3ztXoU2oANjSlklETlkDYpHyASSZR-gcqspTR41aiVPQbW/s640/blogger-image--62473979.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There are always a couple of things that I take in consideration as I begin planning a party for my littlest of loves. What is their favorite thing in the world right now, besides Mommy of course. How cheaply can I make this theme happen. Also how quickly their years pass by. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE97jyTO2fRN0tnnwaMxZVTRYB8fkwp6Hs30XG5nJpLZghLIpmDakYUzgE0unaEav_1Nj9w5vpAR4Jr3XlhyphenhyphenvM0-3mRT7msSwFVxvYZ34l0c-CBQwTvg9A8y8dTe_u4b8HM4nziE83-rod/s640/blogger-image--664427530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE97jyTO2fRN0tnnwaMxZVTRYB8fkwp6Hs30XG5nJpLZghLIpmDakYUzgE0unaEav_1Nj9w5vpAR4Jr3XlhyphenhyphenvM0-3mRT7msSwFVxvYZ34l0c-CBQwTvg9A8y8dTe_u4b8HM4nziE83-rod/s640/blogger-image--664427530.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>I never realized how quickly years and days pass, until I became a Mother of two. I am uncertain if this was due to Charli Beth starting school, or just having a second child that keeps me busy. Either way, I love celebrating them but most of all I love loving them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGHvpwIZdiMmzSbBx5N7jGKaaAtmcjE7Ohk9vCg3eMV-5xmNy3Hlh1Ow0gXOu_OXKfyqkZAoKs3-DSG7dFcJjX3f6mcYfGF3MsitO0ubHEO41wrFSVXn8oUHq69qAbEShAoPpndYKcfLi/s640/blogger-image--238276743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGHvpwIZdiMmzSbBx5N7jGKaaAtmcjE7Ohk9vCg3eMV-5xmNy3Hlh1Ow0gXOu_OXKfyqkZAoKs3-DSG7dFcJjX3f6mcYfGF3MsitO0ubHEO41wrFSVXn8oUHq69qAbEShAoPpndYKcfLi/s640/blogger-image--238276743.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When I told Bryar that it was time to prepare a party for his big number five, he immediately said "I want to deer hunt." So of course after a lot of dwelling on how hard this party could be to plan, I started planning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVWlUXkrFGAZhfFh3uDPQMyKW4T1hTvcX-DfrgDfx_vEpu0mwKJKrCA9Cwetk2QG_UFg7hvwY9m3cE4ojjsPPTnIl6kRxZbtigraGUhvsHms_71st0FESNnv8NKrf6jWMSKpuxwcQjBFx/s640/blogger-image--719030506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVWlUXkrFGAZhfFh3uDPQMyKW4T1hTvcX-DfrgDfx_vEpu0mwKJKrCA9Cwetk2QG_UFg7hvwY9m3cE4ojjsPPTnIl6kRxZbtigraGUhvsHms_71st0FESNnv8NKrf6jWMSKpuxwcQjBFx/s640/blogger-image--719030506.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The shotgun shells were purchased in a box from etsy. 200 of those awesome bad boys for a few dollars. As you scroll through, you can see that they were food card holders, garland and fillers in empty spots. Hallelujah that was easy...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDacURPFHhVgf9XwHbu8jCHgPScwtVmH3R6sdPBh6SOC_Sa-_MZsyXRHDXOTYz6-UaIG_AS4Rcl0BqXFmDaQhQR0TdZ9D0M9p672ZnBGCzDqLN0IqQcNekzfyhDLzsqhPblyU8nx55nn3/s640/blogger-image--1544133176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDacURPFHhVgf9XwHbu8jCHgPScwtVmH3R6sdPBh6SOC_Sa-_MZsyXRHDXOTYz6-UaIG_AS4Rcl0BqXFmDaQhQR0TdZ9D0M9p672ZnBGCzDqLN0IqQcNekzfyhDLzsqhPblyU8nx55nn3/s640/blogger-image--1544133176.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We decided to change the venue up this year and set up at our church pavallion. Even though it was away from our house, we were blessed to have tables already awaiting on us. Except for the main food table, which also happens to be made from an old store door in Allen County and is also my sewing table. This door was been super loved through the years. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRteSzf3U3wJOM2VWJa41CKQcHXM6gMik7dszaH79CSYPlS-sMB5XfDFFrSA5JCQPPZcm8DuKhe6vwING-Z8UYWndOzRrR5yDroO7sQuyWzASO1INTLa_dQueKVxmzzRcoF-y0sSbPVZyU/s640/blogger-image--386530496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRteSzf3U3wJOM2VWJa41CKQcHXM6gMik7dszaH79CSYPlS-sMB5XfDFFrSA5JCQPPZcm8DuKhe6vwING-Z8UYWndOzRrR5yDroO7sQuyWzASO1INTLa_dQueKVxmzzRcoF-y0sSbPVZyU/s640/blogger-image--386530496.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The deer sausage was more of a hit than I guess it to be since I'm not a summer sausage fan. But by the end of the party it was gone. Nice to know that my husbands hunting weekends were made use of. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The antlers were a combination of mine and Mother in law's. These were all from bucks their family has killed over the years. I'm more than certain that my cute little guy, will be adding his own to the collection before long. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUcYKF66pGhOWHFL033wrdouvMUJrVPbjWAXU8EfN-tbjZzretXm0FVjwGlxt-ouCfmtuD22LRPVnQpYajiu7Vdi3eN-6ZkJgHG_yHdOAkv5NL6aWdm9bA-j2P3wqxvg1pcypmYmNs_ot/s640/blogger-image--1376975155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUcYKF66pGhOWHFL033wrdouvMUJrVPbjWAXU8EfN-tbjZzretXm0FVjwGlxt-ouCfmtuD22LRPVnQpYajiu7Vdi3eN-6ZkJgHG_yHdOAkv5NL6aWdm9bA-j2P3wqxvg1pcypmYmNs_ot/s640/blogger-image--1376975155.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnvargPSKp6hAVNSzdDkquh407JLByssbau5nsE7paQS08Qtbg9npcrOD3AD7a2mU2f-pgdUg3uWgipt6IupQZ7xec_4ihyKpXDhWu9te8FoL_85rbTFv76q0QwAJB-CtI_OfxSa1Uiym/s640/blogger-image--710641872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnvargPSKp6hAVNSzdDkquh407JLByssbau5nsE7paQS08Qtbg9npcrOD3AD7a2mU2f-pgdUg3uWgipt6IupQZ7xec_4ihyKpXDhWu9te8FoL_85rbTFv76q0QwAJB-CtI_OfxSa1Uiym/s640/blogger-image--710641872.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The food was an easy choice as it was hot, windy and hardly any prep needed. Curtis took over the grilling and sixteen people are 32 hot dogs. Dude can grill a killer dog apparently...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtEJivSU5K0xKqhvj8CnR4F0p1wbZJsHCwyB7500nMOhLTQI5mkARcy7hJFFrXMvkQuRCOepdwHsre3AY6d_ISMs9gA9klVWKh81qi93eXQU4A5N5L8huETFZ94EfnsnmQHnuW_YDC65tX/s640/blogger-image--1940456857.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtEJivSU5K0xKqhvj8CnR4F0p1wbZJsHCwyB7500nMOhLTQI5mkARcy7hJFFrXMvkQuRCOepdwHsre3AY6d_ISMs9gA9klVWKh81qi93eXQU4A5N5L8huETFZ94EfnsnmQHnuW_YDC65tX/s640/blogger-image--1940456857.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Did you notice that cake above? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Amazing, huh?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My talented Mother in law made it from scratch. I cannot even describe the blessing that she and my Mother are. My parties and mostly my life would be insane without their grace. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjQ7QKKtgOLXMRi8tA3GxS_aCzMY0tPOPF7nWnzvhkQI9ByioF7Dg4vnrE-M41jVBT2nYrY3lNazO9JsjFEL73OOyk1OI2P2DuwINl_YRYzq1o5zLEDtjArgk_rxt_40RZSPje0dEfPHy/s640/blogger-image--1701842878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjQ7QKKtgOLXMRi8tA3GxS_aCzMY0tPOPF7nWnzvhkQI9ByioF7Dg4vnrE-M41jVBT2nYrY3lNazO9JsjFEL73OOyk1OI2P2DuwINl_YRYzq1o5zLEDtjArgk_rxt_40RZSPje0dEfPHy/s640/blogger-image--1701842878.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"Take a scoop of each to create the perfect deer stand snack."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1KHdd_DgkMOJ8epbQNQVDuEq5Y8-inFsCPM-xrCR2NHWtJJ8GV9R73a5U5ZfEvx-pRUJtJ3poXFAKQnhyoRHh1X_aZio0GBuxy5UsXOY9DPVEy66_9KMgk9pe_A7ejaV2N0NRrlQbDUW/s640/blogger-image-2098694134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1KHdd_DgkMOJ8epbQNQVDuEq5Y8-inFsCPM-xrCR2NHWtJJ8GV9R73a5U5ZfEvx-pRUJtJ3poXFAKQnhyoRHh1X_aZio0GBuxy5UsXOY9DPVEy66_9KMgk9pe_A7ejaV2N0NRrlQbDUW/s640/blogger-image-2098694134.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This is what you call party favors made easy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhQh9BwpDYqEa5s0vP10w2u7oPYmbuSOwG1jyk-IrO8RH-JqO9X8jfYQyMTBZi-ialGlYNbDoq3Z0q2JAnGWOzGtK-HlaYROa5MVJt4nj4_tnGKGqNNoHJDpzidjUE0Z8qMR8BtDlPyiA/s640/blogger-image--1131220692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhQh9BwpDYqEa5s0vP10w2u7oPYmbuSOwG1jyk-IrO8RH-JqO9X8jfYQyMTBZi-ialGlYNbDoq3Z0q2JAnGWOzGtK-HlaYROa5MVJt4nj4_tnGKGqNNoHJDpzidjUE0Z8qMR8BtDlPyiA/s640/blogger-image--1131220692.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnsyumWV6Y72cVL9AyszRF6SC4bFkxCUuHqHSu92B_y9wiMMf3Fgd9QoiUm4pZu3mmJooihDOUJos8DyMKeOq-s_pzOdoOGhmjzr7y84X8IMiRTMlz1dDqyb4_B6DES1QYTBGWcHTaqQi/s640/blogger-image--636993476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnsyumWV6Y72cVL9AyszRF6SC4bFkxCUuHqHSu92B_y9wiMMf3Fgd9QoiUm4pZu3mmJooihDOUJos8DyMKeOq-s_pzOdoOGhmjzr7y84X8IMiRTMlz1dDqyb4_B6DES1QYTBGWcHTaqQi/s640/blogger-image--636993476.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>But also cute.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8smknb4t_7nr3z6biH9FOJvm4GM2ndk6kIDBu1HsbfRiw8cZZtnA42mztuQVu4xYRG7z3yLZpNpEbPfWReKarCeuZTfa_nQlgcJH-9ViCkBNPF9qLYJic2K2VT3qBpIQOYsbReWu7dKea/s640/blogger-image-1808326487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8smknb4t_7nr3z6biH9FOJvm4GM2ndk6kIDBu1HsbfRiw8cZZtnA42mztuQVu4xYRG7z3yLZpNpEbPfWReKarCeuZTfa_nQlgcJH-9ViCkBNPF9qLYJic2K2VT3qBpIQOYsbReWu7dKea/s640/blogger-image-1808326487.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoznZfyhpW2dzfCOkWf5SYu9Vor9q_qwSAtNgcgyZXDK6Tq2gwKOBJcjuc_mh52rh6w4W2vDkqH2ERK5si1VRIvlHCVwOQgc1one-pUDFkHBdcQYyI8yjIsW6JuEGwIuu34O649cgQ7C8c/s640/blogger-image--1912303483.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoznZfyhpW2dzfCOkWf5SYu9Vor9q_qwSAtNgcgyZXDK6Tq2gwKOBJcjuc_mh52rh6w4W2vDkqH2ERK5si1VRIvlHCVwOQgc1one-pUDFkHBdcQYyI8yjIsW6JuEGwIuu34O649cgQ7C8c/s640/blogger-image--1912303483.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The logs were left over from a wedding and once again we used the filler shotgun shells. The greenery inside is from the yard. Cheap, cute and perfect! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57XeiRBrfXVoG9riHryroPYKy7g2TVWuhKTJPcIPx50om5yEfVSwC_-glQPDzIoz_UbHa4pmHVOOkXBGFA7DZLtAEFcgPKgQTRw6RMgxr2sFe52rjAKkV7tmRZCQMyAtwVaGo9_Zojsso/s640/blogger-image-910855506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57XeiRBrfXVoG9riHryroPYKy7g2TVWuhKTJPcIPx50om5yEfVSwC_-glQPDzIoz_UbHa4pmHVOOkXBGFA7DZLtAEFcgPKgQTRw6RMgxr2sFe52rjAKkV7tmRZCQMyAtwVaGo9_Zojsso/s640/blogger-image-910855506.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I painted this sign the night before because I loved one that I found on Pinterest. It looked to be commercial printed and I was trying for a cheap, creative photo area. It wasn't perfect. But it worked and made cute pictures.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSkRBRYRVrz3iooN0r6PHwMYgfG2_N4Gi-Ev9pl6WuXOx2mtdlvLHP0cDhqNU6Zhr58E1uA0IUw9ayL13D5ilRGr9MNTiEbPLUBjBeOrBR4wDz_7QfHZrAbyakL1WVHjcivIiFswnZRlh/s640/blogger-image--1118998634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSkRBRYRVrz3iooN0r6PHwMYgfG2_N4Gi-Ev9pl6WuXOx2mtdlvLHP0cDhqNU6Zhr58E1uA0IUw9ayL13D5ilRGr9MNTiEbPLUBjBeOrBR4wDz_7QfHZrAbyakL1WVHjcivIiFswnZRlh/s640/blogger-image--1118998634.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">See? Tytus even made the sign adorable! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CpuciA2pkRFHMH0J8tUDfoPGfI3Kz4caDmqrGz1-7fMrPUmA3hG7fLN5J5uNhkzJdxFauvSzRCtotrMM_yFzpxlbfiCHUDYS2TWxOe7yoDyceOI__A2lzZ8hg962pu9NGPheuFek-R4d/s640/blogger-image--702046660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CpuciA2pkRFHMH0J8tUDfoPGfI3Kz4caDmqrGz1-7fMrPUmA3hG7fLN5J5uNhkzJdxFauvSzRCtotrMM_yFzpxlbfiCHUDYS2TWxOe7yoDyceOI__A2lzZ8hg962pu9NGPheuFek-R4d/s640/blogger-image--702046660.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh, this boy... How I could eat him and his "senior poses" up! Why does he have to be so adorable, just to grow up SO fast? </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGJYfi4jA-b63WZmR1SMkrm0OkIuDyHB7P3RUi_kAsyPrGS3StXRHsRZ_cLUa6qT0XqrvAUfs2_UuIo3M6_2xp8kfYxbrY0cPDCDn3yxDXqkvtppIZ-9ZWlIO6idCut7sPwYAyEh3XEN5/s640/blogger-image-1856520278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGJYfi4jA-b63WZmR1SMkrm0OkIuDyHB7P3RUi_kAsyPrGS3StXRHsRZ_cLUa6qT0XqrvAUfs2_UuIo3M6_2xp8kfYxbrY0cPDCDn3yxDXqkvtppIZ-9ZWlIO6idCut7sPwYAyEh3XEN5/s640/blogger-image-1856520278.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I also sketched this big angry buck out the night before the party. I was trying to be funny (which of course never works) since everyone always says "we always just pin the tail on the donkey" when we were kids. Well folks, here's pin the target on the buck. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLujyN8aIYOAM1XCkYnU-nLFW7qmilDEalnxz8K9DwLlnMldlKMt1nW_eXXhsyu05FhVDb_7I2A83HCvzgdJYt-85n4cCdBjbEibU-O-vwB-WXHpgtW7V8nmRMwYoor93L2QEx-siKZnhS/s640/blogger-image--802468685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLujyN8aIYOAM1XCkYnU-nLFW7qmilDEalnxz8K9DwLlnMldlKMt1nW_eXXhsyu05FhVDb_7I2A83HCvzgdJYt-85n4cCdBjbEibU-O-vwB-WXHpgtW7V8nmRMwYoor93L2QEx-siKZnhS/s640/blogger-image--802468685.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The younger kids actually loved seeing where they placed their target. But were able to catch some major laughs at watching me almost fall down after spinning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NsYXSgGuFcrv-bFxejGkKbuajNvxTiKcOGPtxoaluUp0iRxzMDppBIYQklTLrm6zgIpPmxku4Lckxnc4IBVMCGgX1vbWlJkpqoicX9sxy_-Cnt9FQMDaFqoGkxn1lnObptclPW5PJGCD/s640/blogger-image--261428772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NsYXSgGuFcrv-bFxejGkKbuajNvxTiKcOGPtxoaluUp0iRxzMDppBIYQklTLrm6zgIpPmxku4Lckxnc4IBVMCGgX1vbWlJkpqoicX9sxy_-Cnt9FQMDaFqoGkxn1lnObptclPW5PJGCD/s640/blogger-image--261428772.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGglLqguuqnJJtUdL_lzr80DJJ-TjGH0Ya_fXtsCPQ-wAzVDcxqu1H33ggy3kS_yh3CbLCfUHKl4gUg64M9JJDgFU5ABlY97OtIP_PYMtPnrgJDhZfG0UIShQ1FamJ1Hm-5PLPeD3xI2Fk/s640/blogger-image--1506307364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGglLqguuqnJJtUdL_lzr80DJJ-TjGH0Ya_fXtsCPQ-wAzVDcxqu1H33ggy3kS_yh3CbLCfUHKl4gUg64M9JJDgFU5ABlY97OtIP_PYMtPnrgJDhZfG0UIShQ1FamJ1Hm-5PLPeD3xI2Fk/s640/blogger-image--1506307364.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The kids who wanted to were able to shoot BB guns at targets. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyZ_reV05oMB3Ofs697loC1K25fbykT9baSv14yKp3D3njxli4V9yoGstm2jhewtaEUpWbn5PoMIKbxa18s16QRKtlapP3Iu4ASOZ7X6A-RxsTKJzI4VVHvwESBbKuu_J86NuiOgbhgt_/s640/blogger-image-739835578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyZ_reV05oMB3Ofs697loC1K25fbykT9baSv14yKp3D3njxli4V9yoGstm2jhewtaEUpWbn5PoMIKbxa18s16QRKtlapP3Iu4ASOZ7X6A-RxsTKJzI4VVHvwESBbKuu_J86NuiOgbhgt_/s640/blogger-image-739835578.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Bryar checking out his bullseye.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Watch out outdoors channel Bryar is coming for you... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPI0sDkOgzqP6b0_gCuaPA1ItH6zJRZqeoniuRryKXlUE0BkafBFcrKbBekLy9gjuiF63bOvJtyFCwBE0L3ub1jAS5DcfuNCPspbtfQc-GyioUa-7ZJfdKWAqTWMN_rzyPk1p0kohizIqy/s640/blogger-image-1765896507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPI0sDkOgzqP6b0_gCuaPA1ItH6zJRZqeoniuRryKXlUE0BkafBFcrKbBekLy9gjuiF63bOvJtyFCwBE0L3ub1jAS5DcfuNCPspbtfQc-GyioUa-7ZJfdKWAqTWMN_rzyPk1p0kohizIqy/s640/blogger-image-1765896507.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We brought these two targets from home. The one in the top photo was a Christmas gift from Nana and Pa last year. He loves shooting each animal before he climbs into bed at night. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The buck below was given to him on his actually birthday. How cool is he? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Inflatable deer that actually stands up. Big props to Amazon for him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgISwh-InWe4MDwt0bIu5sKPDdHjkX_9wboXnduUm7O5k1GfSVSMPpKfwhzpAe7rfuJ_HKO7Lsd5dwBmUBnBlXnTMOw51cfOilFPA4umdJQlb_k5-xcdkusANmiaF59NLJG9k4uG6TMZZ/s640/blogger-image-1644783522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgISwh-InWe4MDwt0bIu5sKPDdHjkX_9wboXnduUm7O5k1GfSVSMPpKfwhzpAe7rfuJ_HKO7Lsd5dwBmUBnBlXnTMOw51cfOilFPA4umdJQlb_k5-xcdkusANmiaF59NLJG9k4uG6TMZZ/s640/blogger-image-1644783522.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdYuipZxSo4kl5S6Wu68MAhNLLRDO3i2PEw7RrZGSUhwjwMrvuSpH1CsCxJLBXnfvwzwppZpJ5_qndSc0F5lK81el-F02-5yyZVhUCJR2-uyiPCOLnPFhJ44hBnMRtlL2q-mwAnd5mUI-/s640/blogger-image-179652626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdYuipZxSo4kl5S6Wu68MAhNLLRDO3i2PEw7RrZGSUhwjwMrvuSpH1CsCxJLBXnfvwzwppZpJ5_qndSc0F5lK81el-F02-5yyZVhUCJR2-uyiPCOLnPFhJ44hBnMRtlL2q-mwAnd5mUI-/s640/blogger-image-179652626.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Yes, an army Swiss knife and a new bow! This kid is all ready for deer camp! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">{All children are safe and the knife is tucked away, until he needs the toothpick of course!} </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVIt3IPxi05YKrogNFOW0IsJ4xB1RM7k2gQGSfV_azgQFX1PnOjYUil6lOJEXhVVxKXvXLux8oKWfS2I4MpyWWI2eKr355343-Ar16i9rL8vWhXpFfk2wk3F3QtBQ3Aj6BXDJJeB0RKZP/s640/blogger-image--411249115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVIt3IPxi05YKrogNFOW0IsJ4xB1RM7k2gQGSfV_azgQFX1PnOjYUil6lOJEXhVVxKXvXLux8oKWfS2I4MpyWWI2eKr355343-Ar16i9rL8vWhXpFfk2wk3F3QtBQ3Aj6BXDJJeB0RKZP/s640/blogger-image--411249115.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_JYqhyphenhyphent2Q8f_Ump_rvmIlN_kUx7gpf-UCruyVWknCK0MEGt0MHAso4efx2YgpikkPn768UDFlgggfZkov5gX1xf-c2EDVH3U15ZI8jyHYoUxgwu4zC7kM2BQbTyckPz3Exe4STytezlI/s640/blogger-image-1135935924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_JYqhyphenhyphent2Q8f_Ump_rvmIlN_kUx7gpf-UCruyVWknCK0MEGt0MHAso4efx2YgpikkPn768UDFlgggfZkov5gX1xf-c2EDVH3U15ZI8jyHYoUxgwu4zC7kM2BQbTyckPz3Exe4STytezlI/s640/blogger-image-1135935924.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBRDbxcCc5pO1zyIyzvLAWHZuo6N879IbSp2GvvBUWYwXpCrJxSx5hP9hyphenhyphenKKSe_X8XMvR7jNsjlOZfg-EhQHqBNt1tjrhPTDWz9fjL2qenZmCq_6h6Q01nqyXoioVarExv00Hf2cQ-b0a/s640/blogger-image-451458094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBRDbxcCc5pO1zyIyzvLAWHZuo6N879IbSp2GvvBUWYwXpCrJxSx5hP9hyphenhyphenKKSe_X8XMvR7jNsjlOZfg-EhQHqBNt1tjrhPTDWz9fjL2qenZmCq_6h6Q01nqyXoioVarExv00Hf2cQ-b0a/s640/blogger-image-451458094.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">That cake! I was just simply impressed. White on top, chocolate on the bottom. Everyone is happy, but most of all Bryar to have one amazing cake. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zmxPm3GO2wbCtlHBdt4tn3WsIBgV-z96wQlv9aZncb8vbFTfyq4SUbLSFK87vT4A1_gjd_MAA76oi2DmgGF8fI_E5_9EHNcE-pN1SJJlHcTPUXSx4IiL-MZ5MVLmz9gxpY-XCy6rFFrK/s640/blogger-image-492109429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zmxPm3GO2wbCtlHBdt4tn3WsIBgV-z96wQlv9aZncb8vbFTfyq4SUbLSFK87vT4A1_gjd_MAA76oi2DmgGF8fI_E5_9EHNcE-pN1SJJlHcTPUXSx4IiL-MZ5MVLmz9gxpY-XCy6rFFrK/s640/blogger-image-492109429.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Garland on the food table was made cheaply by me. I purchased this card stock banner at Walmart for $4, and stencils for $2. I thankfully already had the paint and brushes in a stash at home. Cheap and made by Mom = not so perfect but perfect for us. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-KjVa1HCPhfo4RbGc9R8bELiNww4jBmsSfq_f8bWXWYvVjJ2GahNFn2nH215aq_PP_dhw6hj3nW_Y6ESVhx4ZW02iUG7_svls7l4cUSHlOGRbI2NTpq30SxHLmx_IjFm6EGLcOl4a2up/s640/blogger-image-108776973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-KjVa1HCPhfo4RbGc9R8bELiNww4jBmsSfq_f8bWXWYvVjJ2GahNFn2nH215aq_PP_dhw6hj3nW_Y6ESVhx4ZW02iUG7_svls7l4cUSHlOGRbI2NTpq30SxHLmx_IjFm6EGLcOl4a2up/s640/blogger-image-108776973.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRNOuPFClvA-4xhy3KQ-4JxRLAap_cXbv0vbFAITRV_I1Hk2JuFdowuai75kgoJVFlM0PCZ4NPrvznwO7q1sdxtSVGVsOtFyRVmlQW0YXPxOvuIbsKtatN44sKNP0naHqn_vC8bcB-P8w/s640/blogger-image--442198839.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRNOuPFClvA-4xhy3KQ-4JxRLAap_cXbv0vbFAITRV_I1Hk2JuFdowuai75kgoJVFlM0PCZ4NPrvznwO7q1sdxtSVGVsOtFyRVmlQW0YXPxOvuIbsKtatN44sKNP0naHqn_vC8bcB-P8w/s640/blogger-image--442198839.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl7hie9feWBuRLql9_BZxa3ZszjMgHcyxfStqVVT4Gc-PUFlFEoO5cZTWePCPidG2jouCjFRUJr5Cq1052AOhCyKedxYC77Vl44HgOfZbMY0jzyWs40OHi1syGmKqtwglhwjKt02xQapDZ/s640/blogger-image--1300523490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl7hie9feWBuRLql9_BZxa3ZszjMgHcyxfStqVVT4Gc-PUFlFEoO5cZTWePCPidG2jouCjFRUJr5Cq1052AOhCyKedxYC77Vl44HgOfZbMY0jzyWs40OHi1syGmKqtwglhwjKt02xQapDZ/s640/blogger-image--1300523490.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My most proud moment was making this simple appliqué on a blanket to give to Bryar and a shirt. I saved myself over $12 by sucking up my major insecurities and trying my machine once again. After some high blood pressure and through the roof anxiety (yes, I'm exaggerating) it was complete. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This party was super fun for Bryar and even more easy for me. I'm thankful that I have a family that loves to party. But most of all kids that I can celebrate in years to come. I cannot wait to see how much Bryar grows throughout this year. Gulp.. The year of kindergarten or maybe even his first deer hunt! </div></div></div></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-23118779292318225942016-10-09T23:34:00.001-05:002016-10-10T12:55:32.981-05:00Stop laughing. Start focusing.I'm really not into Facebook rants or wars these days. I'm more into long nights snuggled up to my squishy newly five year old, and helping my southern belle of a ten year old pick out clothes for the upcoming week. But while watching the famous debate tonight, just after the time searching for perfect attire for the fifth grader in my life, I thought I would read Facebook during a break. <div><br></div><div>What a clever little way to unwind and get a feel of cute families ending their fall break. </div><div><br></div><div><b>Wrong</b>.</div><div><br></div><div>Tonight until the Novemeber election our feeds and social media outlets have become wars of opinions. Opinions that we all have, and are all different from one person to the next. But that's the wonderful way that God created us to be. Different. Full of opinions and oppositions. But he also created us to hold respect, and love for our neighbors. </div><div><br></div><div>Stop judging me, and the millions of times I've not been ever so loving and just read this sinners thoughts...</div><div><br></div><div>Today is the day. The day to <u>STOP</u> saying how much we cannot stand each candidate. Or how we wish we could have a do over. We did this. Our parties picked these two, no matter how big of clowns they each are. These are the two major party American candidates. </div><div><br></div><div>We can no longer stand on the side lines watching the train wreck. Standing back, laughing at the damage, and awaiting your next Facebook famous status. That is the issue among all issues - social media. We've let it become our voice, rather than listening to our own inner voices. We've become derived from thoughts that we had because of falsified characters of a comment from another. </div><div><br></div><div>To feel secure and safe with your decision, stop watching the train wreck moments. It isn't funny. It's sickening and part of the problem. Do your research, pick your topics, write them down if you need to, and be ready to listen to what the answer to your passion questions may be.</div><div><br></div><div>I know mine. <i>Do you</i>? </div><div><br></div><div>While you all were laughing tonight. I found some of my answers. Answers that were in the midst of the train wreck moments. But I listened and surprise they were actually there. I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">figured out the ending to the scenarios that I was hoping to clear. I hope you did the same.</span></div><div><br></div><div>Last Novemeber, I was able to work an election booth but did not partake in the ballot myself. An elderly man was disturbed when I told him this and wanted to know my reasonings. I told him that I had not researched enough on the candidates and did not feel comfortable in making a solid casting vote. We agreed that my choice was correct and he then informed me that this should be the only reason to not cast a vote. I still agree with this choice that I made and plan to always do my research to make my vote. It doesn't matter if you live in a large delegate state or not, every vote matters and so does every voice. Even if it's different than my own. </div><div><br></div><div>Stop laughing. Start focusing. We need change in our beloved America. Wether it be left sided or right sided. In some way or form, you must pick one on the Election Day to clear your heart and mind to spend the next four years until the next tormenting ballot say arrives. </div><div><br></div><div>Until then... I'll leave you with this.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyYVrG7dlv7uubpj91VYVv3uyMMB0tgoBzqV-eIeyZnPfWbdK3ERD2wIx2AjPLiK3v4yVa8SI8gb7yxKfNCNVmLAtJj9oxydawOMtWC1I58_tKrEvaMoYa5GkNGk-6e8ABUZ5JcOjBN0a/s640/blogger-image-740003550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyYVrG7dlv7uubpj91VYVv3uyMMB0tgoBzqV-eIeyZnPfWbdK3ERD2wIx2AjPLiK3v4yVa8SI8gb7yxKfNCNVmLAtJj9oxydawOMtWC1I58_tKrEvaMoYa5GkNGk-6e8ABUZ5JcOjBN0a/s640/blogger-image-740003550.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-81163504492095582922016-10-01T12:56:00.001-05:002016-10-18T13:02:38.719-05:00Love What You Do. Our parents smoked, cursed, attended church, watched tv, birthdays with cake and a piñata, they gave us kool-aid and we all survived. I learned how to swim by my dear Mother tossing me in and saying, "sink or swim child" after many times of refusal. I'm sure you all can guess how that experience worked out for my 29 year old breathing self. We were spanked, and given a hard time when we stepped out of line. We didn't have someone giving us a medal or trophy to work hard. As we were told that it was a way of life, and you either sink or swim. We learned to cope and we survived. But, sometimes a few things change in the world and that shouldn't always be considered a bad thing. We grow to love a few different things. Then we earn stripes of parenthood through the accomplishments we survive through. <br>
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Lately, as I'm planning yet another birthday party for my son, I am consistently being told that " parties were much simpler when you were a kid." <br>
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Yes, so was adding on sunscreen to a child. It didn't have to be organic, non-chemical, non-spray. It just had to say sunscreen, and BAM it was on. You didn't have to purchase bug spray in the same aspect. Or organic foods. <br>
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You see some of us may love purchasing the most healthy vegetables known to the whole foods market. Some of us may love attending every sport our children play, running marathons, taking selfies or serving on the PTO for ten years straight.<br>
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To an actual surprise some of us may just actually just love throwing parties. They don't have to be pinterest worthy of an event. It just has to be worthy of what you love to do. This has nothing to do with a failed birthday as a kid or the way I made a success of being tossed into an above ground pool. But it has all to do with a passion and what my family has always loved to do. From the Halloween parties as children with the amazing haunted houses and smell of "chainsaw" smoke fills our memories every Halloween. To the flashlight tag we played as we all camped out in our backyard for a huge sleepover birthday celebration.<br>
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Our passions may differ from travel, bjsports to chalk board designs above buffet bars. It doesn't make either of us trying harder, or failing - and boy how I could scream when someone tells me they are failing at parenthood due to an attempt. You put love into whatever you do for your children, and that is by far more of a success than my frantatic mornings of trying to make sure flowers match a table runner, or last minute trips to dollar general to make sure I have enough lemonade.<br>
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<strong>We choose what we love.</strong><br>
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Mine for sure isn't waking early on Saturday morning to run a 5k. Or traveling each weekend to watch my child play a sport.<br>
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But it is planning, organizing, staying up too late to finishing super gluing a last minute craft, or sewing a table runner in twenty minutes. I may love to be stressed about not having enough items, or the correct table cloths. So if you want to stay up late applique a last minute birthday shirt. Do it. If you want to sit under a tent in the pouring rain while your son is playing football. Do it. If you want to plan every event for your child's school while on the PTO, do it. If we want to only go out to eat and celebrate your littles birthdays with movie and pizza. Do it! Or chase pokemon around your city limit... please, by all means do it. <br>
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I'll never regret celebrating the life of my loved ones in the way that I choose to do so. Most of all, you shouldn't regret loving what you do either. Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-54311624074305920232016-09-21T23:13:00.001-05:002016-09-22T08:01:27.471-05:00It's more than just a shirt...As you look upon my oversized shirt today, you may wonder why I picked it. Could it be from the spirit week, we are enjoying at school? Or the fact that I love anything that screams comfort out to my Mama weight that's lingering in all places of my body. In <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">all reality, it's all of these things plus a day that I am able to feel closer connected. Yes, by wearing an oversized shirt. </span><div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8m_EqSesFoNNAnbndU4-E0j2d_V9NQkX7MLMF8QwFF1hiFpbw9DB0v8shnk1JwzYO03coH4dCWzC9yOfSyfbSlLFAR7vKIflAS2CN5LCgygV5yCQmmsgNPV5iWbONC1-c9ntjzCPmiQ2p/s640/blogger-image-705627787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8m_EqSesFoNNAnbndU4-E0j2d_V9NQkX7MLMF8QwFF1hiFpbw9DB0v8shnk1JwzYO03coH4dCWzC9yOfSyfbSlLFAR7vKIflAS2CN5LCgygV5yCQmmsgNPV5iWbONC1-c9ntjzCPmiQ2p/s640/blogger-image-705627787.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>But this isnt just a shirt that I'm wearing. It's stitches of memories sewn together. This isn't just something oversized and tropical. It's a shirt that gave me too many laughs to count from. Because it's a shirt that my Mom couldn't stand, but my Dad loved <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">to wear. It may have been it's comfort that he loved, but it could've also been the picking mechanism that he loved to hand out to her. </span></div><div><br></div><div>It's a reminder of laughter, joy and most of all love. It's more than just a shirt. But buttons of dignity, that you can never loose a battle to cancer when you have Hope in Christ. But only to win and rejoice within glorious beams of heaven. </div><div><br></div><div>It's more than just a shirt. But a reminder of too many puffs of cologne, or lazy days upon the beach. It's more than just a shirt. It's a reminder of his strong body, that was the Pa whom could fix all. </div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOo3S_rTUVOCuokRI73StTNOnDXcMr9L7TciaBSVqyWZBYejZyOJtLjCZfZI15ZX5kA_-_XVCo3_wWdzuUnmKSiQ3AGf-CQQ0KqcrXmrreREczac7gMdBT-Yy2Cewv7MOtb7My2HFwiKO/s640/blogger-image-285080197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOo3S_rTUVOCuokRI73StTNOnDXcMr9L7TciaBSVqyWZBYejZyOJtLjCZfZI15ZX5kA_-_XVCo3_wWdzuUnmKSiQ3AGf-CQQ0KqcrXmrreREczac7gMdBT-Yy2Cewv7MOtb7My2HFwiKO/s640/blogger-image-285080197.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>It may be just an oversized, tacky tropical shirt to you but it's one that brings joy to a broken heart. You may give me funny looks when I come face to face with you today. But know that I'm not just wearing something found in an old box. It may be a keepsake forever tucked away after today, but each time I see it I'll smile and remember the joy within his laughter. </div><div><br></div><div>My blog won't always be filled with emotions of grief. But if you've ever lost a loved one, or someone you're so closely connected to, you'll understand. I don't just write to be heard, but to let my memories flow and rejoice in all that we've triumphed as a family. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Sorrow and grief are tricky, funny, roller coasters of emotions. Sometimes we just need to feel sad, and others we just have to do something to make us smile. Today I'm going to enjoy wearing this shirt that I've had on my mind for tropical day, just to smile and even to tell his story some more. It may mean nothing to you, but to me it means everything. </span></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-89750639463408622662016-09-18T11:40:00.001-05:002016-09-19T12:20:27.260-05:0029 forever.Each year I blow out my candles on Septemeber 11. All while our country mourns in remembrance of so many innocent lives that were lost. I, myself remember the day so vivedily and if you are of a certain age, I'm quiet sure you do as well. The day that America was attacked, was a day that changed lives forever. For a young teenage girl, it became the day that I was able to get a cell phone. In my silliness of immaturity, I thought it was because I was hip and cool. But in reality it was that my parents were scared, and wasn't sure what lied ahead for our nation. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO50d2x0ekUVSmJXfR4vVCVIfYggZzEr2o1UhdsGk03YyXeurY3QC-drxIHaFXVVq8uShqBM4u3b1rq-ZdBXqFEff1LWMxXKVrSx5hqXKmqBrH6koZsmO_tLePXMNKlRAHuozRhcBVOjJG/s640/blogger-image--1371122628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO50d2x0ekUVSmJXfR4vVCVIfYggZzEr2o1UhdsGk03YyXeurY3QC-drxIHaFXVVq8uShqBM4u3b1rq-ZdBXqFEff1LWMxXKVrSx5hqXKmqBrH6koZsmO_tLePXMNKlRAHuozRhcBVOjJG/s640/blogger-image--1371122628.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>It's amazing to look back to 15 years ago, and what journey my life has taken me through. The times that I really wasn't sure I would make it to the next day. Then days that I aged into an adult all from seeing two pink lines on a white strip. There are still moments in time that I wonder how life has become something that I don't understand. But as I sat in church this morning, listening to the gospel as I most certainly need, I was reminded of how "God knows."</div><div><br></div><div>My heart may still be broken from the recent passing of the man I called Dad. And silent moments to myself are mainly filled with weeping, as the missing is more than I can bare to find joy within. But God knows. He knows the situation, and most certainly knows the purpose of our families journey - of my journey. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNSaW4BLrchhGiUi39wyo8h3RrWS0XtWKluEjBsa76gOda_62Bb82GPPZg_jRvwU4WkSHYdBJCCNUBOjtraGtsAW5K0-xxZP5xYYvaUIZ9Y-kCZWsx8MwGZTM2mhCGyW-2khZAeX2sn-BX/s640/blogger-image--820382851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNSaW4BLrchhGiUi39wyo8h3RrWS0XtWKluEjBsa76gOda_62Bb82GPPZg_jRvwU4WkSHYdBJCCNUBOjtraGtsAW5K0-xxZP5xYYvaUIZ9Y-kCZWsx8MwGZTM2mhCGyW-2khZAeX2sn-BX/s640/blogger-image--820382851.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>While I didn't want to celebrate my birthday this year, because of the memories it held from my last. We have. Even though it took a lot of prayers, and even tears, we survived our first cook out as a family without him there. Our first prayer without his voice praising God, while we all held hands, was filled with my own. It was gut wrenching. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyM0VR3pGJ0_UqX2hTPrsJMbcIXKxQobU_GoU1E6TGhyphenhyphenUdDt-7ffqCnv3FouA_U1bGwdokgPOhC4iqYtyewvJTOX2C5Nfk6lwat861fYrdE8eSr7ZnJczT6LdR86jGmudmrz5MmXR7KZ8/s640/blogger-image-1148578794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyM0VR3pGJ0_UqX2hTPrsJMbcIXKxQobU_GoU1E6TGhyphenhyphenUdDt-7ffqCnv3FouA_U1bGwdokgPOhC4iqYtyewvJTOX2C5Nfk6lwat861fYrdE8eSr7ZnJczT6LdR86jGmudmrz5MmXR7KZ8/s640/blogger-image-1148578794.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>But we will make it. We will find the joy for God knows the purpose of this journey, and most of all he knows our hearts. </div><div><br></div><div>We celebrated. We laughed. We hugged. We decorated, Held hands, told stories, blew out candles, opened gifts, and played games. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfPdrhVdGFWc67cC2jwW4DC2cvR7CRJvVNGMFws68n4KQdwcvxKJHBOiIFZkNBGuzfrSBe-l9FiFK6nrdi-hciUdH_yhw-wXjanbAjzZFeSXX80cumdq61QCEYceIvgBx_m8bmnCFMU-TP/s640/blogger-image-910455792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfPdrhVdGFWc67cC2jwW4DC2cvR7CRJvVNGMFws68n4KQdwcvxKJHBOiIFZkNBGuzfrSBe-l9FiFK6nrdi-hciUdH_yhw-wXjanbAjzZFeSXX80cumdq61QCEYceIvgBx_m8bmnCFMU-TP/s640/blogger-image-910455792.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div>It may not be the same but our joy came, and will continue to do so. For this, I am thankful that my journey is known by the the Creator of all and I can find joy within the breath of life - and the years of candles of I am capable of blowing out. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFS9EWobx_p0OuhrSqzTnBK_pDkOlcaBJD1ojRYVyyCyUuittMosIf37_K8VLmy20g5wykONZ0YvQLhraLdAVCRAjrizvdPOmib7hzt4fw48BmEO5dlfA7ZU3PxSOZeStoArSaBxbnnlzE/s640/blogger-image--2048619669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFS9EWobx_p0OuhrSqzTnBK_pDkOlcaBJD1ojRYVyyCyUuittMosIf37_K8VLmy20g5wykONZ0YvQLhraLdAVCRAjrizvdPOmib7hzt4fw48BmEO5dlfA7ZU3PxSOZeStoArSaBxbnnlzE/s640/blogger-image--2048619669.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-12399698893236591152016-09-16T23:13:00.001-05:002016-09-16T23:13:44.832-05:00A Busy Season of FirstsThere is something special about new seasons of life. They can be exciting, scary, draining, and even tiresome. During this season I am experiencing every single emotion. The back to school spirits are wearing off and we are in full blown crazy mode of softball, football, volleyball and baseball.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKkvkcs0j1098Be6SdLoGXadlj875fBEDqAIbMqfeKf-4daeS4Db_0ofgrdQ-QfjjQesRdIZcuLAWfwmbZKlubIu_HI7LxXzkvTNgg8Y0F1PGzFjBPkIuciaaqeGm1K-WYA7sdR88YI34-/s640/blogger-image-807825115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKkvkcs0j1098Be6SdLoGXadlj875fBEDqAIbMqfeKf-4daeS4Db_0ofgrdQ-QfjjQesRdIZcuLAWfwmbZKlubIu_HI7LxXzkvTNgg8Y0F1PGzFjBPkIuciaaqeGm1K-WYA7sdR88YI34-/s640/blogger-image-807825115.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Yes, baseball. We are in the time frame of not being home one single night until the weekends, and getting to bed so late sometimes that it's quiet shameful. Bryar has excitedly started playing baseball for a five and under league. He's been over the moon happy for his moments on the field. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9rNU3ZI8Kcc1YBrmsLlFPh3oNFQvVso2CR6lFm52cSvyYQ_-e6zH1za9t2QHOod_xlFwi8wEVO_4_enmfQAl3GBxYvhG7V9WoB8VH59lPN9KE2-Buk_tCziMWlyHh28xBlZaUFFJwFLr/s640/blogger-image--235336490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9rNU3ZI8Kcc1YBrmsLlFPh3oNFQvVso2CR6lFm52cSvyYQ_-e6zH1za9t2QHOod_xlFwi8wEVO_4_enmfQAl3GBxYvhG7V9WoB8VH59lPN9KE2-Buk_tCziMWlyHh28xBlZaUFFJwFLr/s640/blogger-image--235336490.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Most of the times the bright little moments start with hitting the tee, sliding every five steps or running to the wrong base. But he is already learning to stay in his position, and where to throw the ball. It's a learning process and for now I will continue to giggle at him and his pure cuteness. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoOD1yM9S7pQ_1mnb_Hh_1kJqJ2LuHEYDDjTog8aq59zsR9PYbnME7n3nGpuT0dvPQcd8rg-qcsFa0CLwqWbTkSi8fhQANwqxLmBe5tPtFSqH09mojJpxpI-_a3B2IVJR5iKy5qJ1L_z-W/s640/blogger-image-310426136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoOD1yM9S7pQ_1mnb_Hh_1kJqJ2LuHEYDDjTog8aq59zsR9PYbnME7n3nGpuT0dvPQcd8rg-qcsFa0CLwqWbTkSi8fhQANwqxLmBe5tPtFSqH09mojJpxpI-_a3B2IVJR5iKy5qJ1L_z-W/s640/blogger-image-310426136.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATWBqy-xS3y6lJd6OHrwUo-cj_UBQ64GfH5kNL2t6tem_cDYztHyLoABXZeJYMnsyGWczxn6ftuQvEte00n4ai3E4fp0c8QVp9imHIM6gqedWFFrMwu6S5jQa6gnmUSj_XWXVPWLlX2xx/s640/blogger-image--931122245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATWBqy-xS3y6lJd6OHrwUo-cj_UBQ64GfH5kNL2t6tem_cDYztHyLoABXZeJYMnsyGWczxn6ftuQvEte00n4ai3E4fp0c8QVp9imHIM6gqedWFFrMwu6S5jQa6gnmUSj_XWXVPWLlX2xx/s640/blogger-image--931122245.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Not only has this little guy started a new sport, he also recently went hunting for the first time. I believe that it is true that boys are natural to all things outdoors, as this little it waited so impatiently for his first moment. While it was deer hunting as he would've liked, he was able to dove hunt with his Papaw and Daddy. Is it quiet ridiculous that I could've cried at this first moment? Seriously, it's almost as great as the first time Charli Beth was on stage for a ballet performance. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Z6yTtAAHfgprWa3otd2d8NDwkF0liyEQGZ8EcUrFQcu5wEWWz9aXsCw7DmnW7hb-OfXfREGdbML395s1xRPNOq8B6xTRioA-8jmzIIJfmzOcNrEfI29HFfjkW6lR_jBd-qp_OQnfi2WD/s640/blogger-image-1269100636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Z6yTtAAHfgprWa3otd2d8NDwkF0liyEQGZ8EcUrFQcu5wEWWz9aXsCw7DmnW7hb-OfXfREGdbML395s1xRPNOq8B6xTRioA-8jmzIIJfmzOcNrEfI29HFfjkW6lR_jBd-qp_OQnfi2WD/s640/blogger-image-1269100636.jpg"></a></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1FjObLVjCnj_x9QA1QyE9lDDMdx67SZerP95QXr71bhH5gxrwaYLUKs0VEWGmXQYUesWm3_nZKidsEtR477O9gzoeq6tJigXLEUQsIfBEogc-ocF9M4xO4sIiNpu_eQQMR7l5UHaPci5/s640/blogger-image-975433884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1FjObLVjCnj_x9QA1QyE9lDDMdx67SZerP95QXr71bhH5gxrwaYLUKs0VEWGmXQYUesWm3_nZKidsEtR477O9gzoeq6tJigXLEUQsIfBEogc-ocF9M4xO4sIiNpu_eQQMR7l5UHaPci5/s640/blogger-image-975433884.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Charli Beth is still finishing up her fall softball league. This year has been quiet different and although she hasn't been able to have her shining moments in the past, she still truly loves the sport. I believe this season will help her decide which sport she would rather focus on greatly. </div><div><br></div><div>Since volleyball quickly became a passion of our little, "Mighty Mouse" she has continued to love playing even between seasons. Even though it's been since high school that I participated in this fun sport, I am helping her coach out. I believe this has been pretty exciting to her. But how did I ever forget that fourth and fifth graders are oh so very chatty! </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBDT3Is7OwglWDKLer87UTOovfqJLAV8mtDkzff8YiB7tMB4VxvGr6YyWY1KD96XQO0rbjv9tn-sFkEbYsZCQmh8jU5Z5NwMAdlp90PC0ipGt9k6NZEQiAI6I3Mx78yRgYyZ72TqbTE3u/s640/blogger-image-201940296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBDT3Is7OwglWDKLer87UTOovfqJLAV8mtDkzff8YiB7tMB4VxvGr6YyWY1KD96XQO0rbjv9tn-sFkEbYsZCQmh8jU5Z5NwMAdlp90PC0ipGt9k6NZEQiAI6I3Mx78yRgYyZ72TqbTE3u/s640/blogger-image-201940296.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Curtis is finishing up his second season of coaching middle school football. While I admire his want and passions for these children, I also selfishly miss him being around. To be a grand role model as a male figure and an officer in these children's lives is exceptional. Everyone of the coaches go above and beyond to help these young men become great athletes. Even if their year has yet to go as planned, I couldn't be more proud of the work they are doing in young lives. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGAFItXbYwavjlk2IooX5SGj_60kHnyZpKBG9NHqktK3a12Xr_4JVVpmgVnDIfiNSQtQNI9D5CsH5kb8k4lIArvgEruiRGnzz85KF9Y7SQQ0nAiCp2zmt_w65AmZpXCX-tY6zOh4YZAMg0/s640/blogger-image-1964764086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGAFItXbYwavjlk2IooX5SGj_60kHnyZpKBG9NHqktK3a12Xr_4JVVpmgVnDIfiNSQtQNI9D5CsH5kb8k4lIArvgEruiRGnzz85KF9Y7SQQ0nAiCp2zmt_w65AmZpXCX-tY6zOh4YZAMg0/s640/blogger-image-1964764086.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>While my family is staying busy in activities. I've quickly taken up the role as driver, packer, cleaner, and multi-tasking extraordinarie. Just kidding on the last word... I'm failing miserably at this stuff but we make it work. There are days that I've come home and just wanted to hide with no one asking for anything. Or that I've even wanted to just fix dinner rather than grabbing something quick and late. Then I have to snap myself back into reality and remember that this is my job. It may be tiresome, but it's where I've been placed to be. These days will fly by, and at some point I'll have no one to drive to practice, or to fill with sugary snacks, so I better savor every cute little moment that I am able.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVaUZIFlChNmnj8ds97CoP3GWNkwowTdWJHhWXmWfokh5uc6Er9s2h4l-BzM-GFyRroHBmasXVJE5vbyzWFM0hdw_aIiCfr0TLcpOtHcTw4qzUoYdrKpKrMIqr0ZH-UZWEvvKd8PuKRUMS/s640/blogger-image-1623727943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVaUZIFlChNmnj8ds97CoP3GWNkwowTdWJHhWXmWfokh5uc6Er9s2h4l-BzM-GFyRroHBmasXVJE5vbyzWFM0hdw_aIiCfr0TLcpOtHcTw4qzUoYdrKpKrMIqr0ZH-UZWEvvKd8PuKRUMS/s640/blogger-image-1623727943.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-57365775268931928252016-08-31T22:58:00.001-05:002016-09-08T21:13:09.585-05:00God Doesn't Waste Pain.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAtGVWGcEtkvzUWKmSTIo5q3Fve-eatle6umWPR4kuMglDKZzBatAx5vLbgQhZiTO157nUqsd3jms1vgsM6WEp5nfdn1hXMamLDS5RhMCiMICw2NbAfMu6xRfBxMzd212iN9K3AII1dV0e/s640/blogger-image--1461557219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAtGVWGcEtkvzUWKmSTIo5q3Fve-eatle6umWPR4kuMglDKZzBatAx5vLbgQhZiTO157nUqsd3jms1vgsM6WEp5nfdn1hXMamLDS5RhMCiMICw2NbAfMu6xRfBxMzd212iN9K3AII1dV0e/s640/blogger-image--1461557219.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"God is using all of your experiences both good and bad, to develop your character to match His calling."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In the midst of trying times, we often ask God for his mercies before thanking him for the blessings we receive daily. I know this, because I quiet often do it more than I would like to admit. It's human nature, "to ask than shall receive." But as I look back on my daily talks with my tiniest little human loves, I realize that I am failing at this very important gospel tactic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's been 47 days since my Dad took his final breath and leaped into the arms of our Savior. While this time was peaceful, as we knew his cancer battle had been won, we ache. We ache in trying to hide pain so well. Or how my own spirit is a little more crushed each night, that he and I do not share a laugh. That my soon coming birthday seems more sad and how I wish for the day to pass without notice, all because it draws back memories of him feeling so well at my last birthday. The birthday where he picked on me, just as we so often did to one another and how I long for the moments to reoccur. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Then again, I also long to finish this testimony in fulfilling his wants and his determination to spread the gospel. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At some moments, I sit and think about what a powerful statement and task this might me for someone like me. Someone who is just learning the order of the books in the bible, the gospel stories, and studying the word. Because let's face it, my four year old little mission friends can probably recall more than I can at this moment. Yet, even through all of my ignorance and trials to learn more there is something that I consistently teach each child in my life... There are many ways to spread the gospel in our lost world. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">While we are striving to know more, it doesn't mean that we cannot shower someone with joy. Joy can be shared in many different forms of the gospel light. These can be cards, simple texts, smiles, holding the door, or even volunteering. While I have been overly blessed with the out pouring love from so many families during my life, it is now that I see there's more to this than just kindness. It was a much more higher calling of spreading the gospel in a different form of love. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When my Dad would gently place an over exceeding tip amount to a waiter or waitress, he wasn't just being kind. When he bought Christmas gifts for children near by, that he knew would benefit from the joy of the morning, it wasn't just kindness. Or the amount of times he drove me around while I fussed and fretted about life itself, he wasn't just being my Dad. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Even in our on blindness it sometimes takes us believers to realize that the gospel can be shared in many lights. As the gospel is such a very powerful thing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyZxjz7aTWyZ85v1SmqiF2Rd5cb-UvoOFHeJhNWB3wSHfx3yj2ahAwfGQMA1yXAklDeYM4hlFqBijRqKBoaiRAySO43GQ5GYMMc89gNxahgTuBkcqGaJ4VU9Og6yfLws8twwo5G4oCG47T/s640/blogger-image-1153494308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyZxjz7aTWyZ85v1SmqiF2Rd5cb-UvoOFHeJhNWB3wSHfx3yj2ahAwfGQMA1yXAklDeYM4hlFqBijRqKBoaiRAySO43GQ5GYMMc89gNxahgTuBkcqGaJ4VU9Og6yfLws8twwo5G4oCG47T/s640/blogger-image-1153494308.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My Mother in law recently told me, "God doesn't waste pain" while I fretted over a sweet friends leukemia diagnosis. As us Kentucky folks often like to say, "this spun me for a loop." She is a woman of wisdom and solid biblical words, and I understood at that exact moment exactly what she meant by this simple statement. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">While <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">my pain is hard and fresh, I pray that this pain can be wrapped into a bundle of God stricken moments. That I can ask the Lord to fulfill me with a calling that I know can bless others with sharing parts of our story. Wether this be in a moment of friendship, passing of a stranger, or some random waiter telling our family a story of how he would like to take a trip home. May I be brave and <b>bold</b> enough to carry out the gospel in which He has laid before me. But most of all, that I always remember that God has laid out a plan for my life, one that is much greater than I have invisioned. That my pain may be real, but it shall not be wasted. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2OzYuXvIqCfL2cuVTq5WmXg9-eX7pP3gKHT2D_HwuuvWkCXsel5YdFobyJNGp7njuRjlSw0DrhXl2PcfEBwuhn6jMPZLvrJ1mujp08axeVHV6tRviX6AwcnwOuUvvbzQ1TuDXwcYO-Acf/s640/blogger-image--72048037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2OzYuXvIqCfL2cuVTq5WmXg9-eX7pP3gKHT2D_HwuuvWkCXsel5YdFobyJNGp7njuRjlSw0DrhXl2PcfEBwuhn6jMPZLvrJ1mujp08axeVHV6tRviX6AwcnwOuUvvbzQ1TuDXwcYO-Acf/s640/blogger-image--72048037.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-6100426278525084832016-08-27T12:26:00.001-05:002016-08-27T12:35:46.009-05:00Makin' Preschool Great Again...This week has been exhausting, embracing and very incredibly fun. The first weeks of preschool getting to know new little ones is something that I have always loved. You can see personalities shine through even within the first minutes of meeting a child. I even <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">sometimes wish I were this way. It's so much easier to make conversation when you're a complete open book of innocent hearts. Which I have to say is my favorite thing about children. </span><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">My little open book of hilarious humor is getting to spend his last preschool year in the classroom with us again. We are fairly used to the routine of school, and going back wasn't such a big deal to him. But to me knowing that this is his last experience with us, is slightly bittersweet. I even get a little frantic at time thinking he needs to be reading or sounding outsight letters together. But then I snap back into preschool mode to realize that his little brain, with a huge imagination is doing just fine. This year he's prepared to work hard, and I'm ready to just enjoy him - most days. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">It took me forever to come up with an, "oh so perfect" shift for his first day back, because this is technically his {almost} third year. Then one night it hit me... </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwoCVJHTXwNR5OCI9CSh-3CCutqAzdsaygldeyrALaNrQtcUCFDf1Mt8rD86hXR1_7SUe3ctRZ-e_BDag-RRbB083OdRFzW4aU7oe22SPhDI6JZFV_Y16rCF-KyW725kMY7K-CQ_jD3zc/s640/blogger-image-1081287369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwoCVJHTXwNR5OCI9CSh-3CCutqAzdsaygldeyrALaNrQtcUCFDf1Mt8rD86hXR1_7SUe3ctRZ-e_BDag-RRbB083OdRFzW4aU7oe22SPhDI6JZFV_Y16rCF-KyW725kMY7K-CQ_jD3zc/s640/blogger-image-1081287369.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">And I giggled at myself for so long until my sweet husband told me I was being a dork. I will give a <b>big</b> disclaimer here to state <i>"I am not compaigning for Donald Trump. I'm just a quirky old Mom who loves shirts to celebrate occasions." </i></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8gGyGW4Rb1iseBnPKxpW09e1ixgAtWUWK-15GK1u75JgW0VDgozf74eMIbs9y4AzIfbTIYYkQbLdYNBqJ7J1j198gtbZtlx6VnMicGHJAUsN13uTKSr4lFt9Z2mU8E8o31ZkKccu1OC_/s640/blogger-image-209792322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8gGyGW4Rb1iseBnPKxpW09e1ixgAtWUWK-15GK1u75JgW0VDgozf74eMIbs9y4AzIfbTIYYkQbLdYNBqJ7J1j198gtbZtlx6VnMicGHJAUsN13uTKSr4lFt9Z2mU8E8o31ZkKccu1OC_/s640/blogger-image-209792322.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4z6UfBl16TmOhxsMcInYmniN3Fk3-SUvFuiWw_KzjkDu8RNrAE8svuemeBNrTFod8NCf_jvHHyW67RvAXiZ_ktY0kpas9qSSsvvdhyxuXuPJ-qKYhkZr-BICsuMD9FrBHFAu0fgo3lR4/s640/blogger-image-197060653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4z6UfBl16TmOhxsMcInYmniN3Fk3-SUvFuiWw_KzjkDu8RNrAE8svuemeBNrTFod8NCf_jvHHyW67RvAXiZ_ktY0kpas9qSSsvvdhyxuXuPJ-qKYhkZr-BICsuMD9FrBHFAu0fgo3lR4/s640/blogger-image-197060653.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Bryar reallllly enjoyed his morning photo shoot <i>(insert sarcastic voice)</i> and absolutely loved taking a picture with his Mama. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZoS8q9r-jIYdNqukbJV6mnXVVXbbHTwtOBtC2SqeUQAi1Fy7hcvxCs-SnVAdPWjt-n7dAR8at8YkP6BFQSy94Zjqp34qEWojhl-6OP1pOd14-rEc0_y3BGbzznsqgKdgFpqWTJ4voYYP7/s640/blogger-image--1670727673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZoS8q9r-jIYdNqukbJV6mnXVVXbbHTwtOBtC2SqeUQAi1Fy7hcvxCs-SnVAdPWjt-n7dAR8at8YkP6BFQSy94Zjqp34qEWojhl-6OP1pOd14-rEc0_y3BGbzznsqgKdgFpqWTJ4voYYP7/s640/blogger-image--1670727673.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORXMN9ZJ8FrZnuuJ0jnOf3fLGl-MKUs0nGyeFPudnPLU4U55LREUtrUJ6C1pRxkYv8WwJgST4c5MMxHPYYGQW8PlVzesKL8RoqE_1fc4rn9BrGrRgWgsXaekBLKzvfZyKAmWChrWtAzIL/s640/blogger-image-19056399.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORXMN9ZJ8FrZnuuJ0jnOf3fLGl-MKUs0nGyeFPudnPLU4U55LREUtrUJ6C1pRxkYv8WwJgST4c5MMxHPYYGQW8PlVzesKL8RoqE_1fc4rn9BrGrRgWgsXaekBLKzvfZyKAmWChrWtAzIL/s640/blogger-image-19056399.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">But I will have to say that he is the most precious sight. Those baby blue, hair cut and sweet freckles make my heart crumble. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYBrffm8AGWNlFiOF-T4gWeDouYxPpRoxxismV2rIM1YioV7vI6llvio-40aJf-1E89CAcYYmQjlO5F3WDlQ214I0DOGE1tseP7DRsi-MIuRhD6_nSNom9BmnrCoEveYGAY3KcOls-m_5/s640/blogger-image--1904239593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYBrffm8AGWNlFiOF-T4gWeDouYxPpRoxxismV2rIM1YioV7vI6llvio-40aJf-1E89CAcYYmQjlO5F3WDlQ214I0DOGE1tseP7DRsi-MIuRhD6_nSNom9BmnrCoEveYGAY3KcOls-m_5/s640/blogger-image--1904239593.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSwmSe5yjXRRj1L3bh79fZLSY8Gz2VM5LqpCOYCGOTX5qKeOZHlwWfuxahB8tYGwTlfYxXy2r7Fc3RNzHx4iY2Bc0InhcFbE1Q4n_RNw661mZqs8HB7Qfj9K-usdTRnsVAWwIWyaGxz2N/s640/blogger-image--1865431162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSwmSe5yjXRRj1L3bh79fZLSY8Gz2VM5LqpCOYCGOTX5qKeOZHlwWfuxahB8tYGwTlfYxXy2r7Fc3RNzHx4iY2Bc0InhcFbE1Q4n_RNw661mZqs8HB7Qfj9K-usdTRnsVAWwIWyaGxz2N/s640/blogger-image--1865431162.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEild1OoDg9GO0W0C1qUw1qTP8xq2EGIMIeUVb675R7uFk2TRCgmtT9XRnI9NIaR_ukd86xgedRPMKvY-ErcVnECbQeZjsZjE9Fe4QRgX5FYe6zFUf9zH0zGJFgsFNI21me_C0WuYA2-fVHn/s640/blogger-image-116000394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEild1OoDg9GO0W0C1qUw1qTP8xq2EGIMIeUVb675R7uFk2TRCgmtT9XRnI9NIaR_ukd86xgedRPMKvY-ErcVnECbQeZjsZjE9Fe4QRgX5FYe6zFUf9zH0zGJFgsFNI21me_C0WuYA2-fVHn/s640/blogger-image-116000394.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Not only did he start back to school this week, he also is on his way to becoming a baseball super star. How he's waited for this season of life with excitement. The little high fives from his teammates and yell from the field, "I surely am sweating" made me giggle and even tear up. What a reminder of just how much of a Mom, I truly am. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBqBqN7eHd_6aZ8VS5n6QmUgxMJo6VWp2-zXQ8yROHW5sVJGjpFkx3XR-M0eOnPVyoffzxZEzorD7LMRT-poU1gRU_mG1uaJus01Th5LW93HVTt3vbQcFB1FVtrqvd-2-3JrKI-oMRiFY/s640/blogger-image--1372158758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBqBqN7eHd_6aZ8VS5n6QmUgxMJo6VWp2-zXQ8yROHW5sVJGjpFkx3XR-M0eOnPVyoffzxZEzorD7LMRT-poU1gRU_mG1uaJus01Th5LW93HVTt3vbQcFB1FVtrqvd-2-3JrKI-oMRiFY/s640/blogger-image--1372158758.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCV5hiU0krOLXgtiHO-aU9Oot9h7deAJ2kTs3blGVtCigtq3YHHu1oy8aXOYwVrAPNak2oLBpC4z0zlDoyAlFKoZnsvF5ks5pFF7QScWjn2WXNJDH3A9xX9of5freTEuCGfbbe9wmVJB8/s640/blogger-image--2008620920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCV5hiU0krOLXgtiHO-aU9Oot9h7deAJ2kTs3blGVtCigtq3YHHu1oy8aXOYwVrAPNak2oLBpC4z0zlDoyAlFKoZnsvF5ks5pFF7QScWjn2WXNJDH3A9xX9of5freTEuCGfbbe9wmVJB8/s640/blogger-image--2008620920.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">By Friday after school, volleyball, baseball and church was literally laying in a detox bath with my "bones" aching. I'm not sure if this a sign of my old age acting up, or just how lazy I am. Either way at 28, if was pretty pathetic. At the end of the day, to prepare starting a Saturday with a dentist appointment it's always nice to remind ourselves how quickly this season of life will fly by, and how babies don't keep. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4r4oVlJYaMdRoNp8vjfX8flWVPSK_d6bviqIeqXXTQCwIldAToS_d0po-5hgSEaul_fVIXlwQLTeGhF3X-DJkLTDuZcNqPVJa7-NpMSMpHYJkXoyfmkKilwF89dwucQQ4M4gm-wVJbxjl/s640/blogger-image-320117635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4r4oVlJYaMdRoNp8vjfX8flWVPSK_d6bviqIeqXXTQCwIldAToS_d0po-5hgSEaul_fVIXlwQLTeGhF3X-DJkLTDuZcNqPVJa7-NpMSMpHYJkXoyfmkKilwF89dwucQQ4M4gm-wVJbxjl/s640/blogger-image-320117635.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-75971127953999288382016-08-14T08:04:00.001-05:002016-08-14T08:04:10.498-05:00Fun In Fifth Grade<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbyjoLAxm20C6975k2EohawkkVWma1gy4fC7n31ov3xW1t8ynDYJkM9loN5KoersFIDP_NZ107NxkA7_XqsvDottV7F9PhUCoqYTIQq-zl08erM8F8YhFGkbwOGR_11sI7iBsQWT5_YZ9/s640/blogger-image--1383150413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbyjoLAxm20C6975k2EohawkkVWma1gy4fC7n31ov3xW1t8ynDYJkM9loN5KoersFIDP_NZ107NxkA7_XqsvDottV7F9PhUCoqYTIQq-zl08erM8F8YhFGkbwOGR_11sI7iBsQWT5_YZ9/s640/blogger-image--1383150413.jpg"></a></div><br></div>This has been a week full of emotions. A time of excitement, nervousness, sadness and happiness in others. We quickly went from being ill prepared for school time, to throwing ourselves in full force. I sometimes believe that my Mommy heart feels new to this each new school year, then at other I feel like a seasoned champ. With softball, football, PTO, school, work, and soon to be volleyball and baseball, I already feel as nutty as the ending of May. <div><br></div><div><br></div><div>On Tuesday, we finally took the step of getting Charli Beth's braces on. Thankfully she only has the top, and should be able to have them removed within eight months. Should be a breeze, right? Except for my little wallet that's already cringing at the statements. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqAziGrNHDywPrLrOpVpwfYVSzkmMJ9RUiQpt1aYnO_JW8sK_NpG3roz5bivfm-GPqDnOUahkYXtBn_e1nyLO40akRUW6Cw2ND1r2IPQ5MeJMGaF-RKXOaWcf3hrLECmZFXiHu0fSPAkw/s640/blogger-image-780787456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqAziGrNHDywPrLrOpVpwfYVSzkmMJ9RUiQpt1aYnO_JW8sK_NpG3roz5bivfm-GPqDnOUahkYXtBn_e1nyLO40akRUW6Cw2ND1r2IPQ5MeJMGaF-RKXOaWcf3hrLECmZFXiHu0fSPAkw/s640/blogger-image-780787456.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Isn't she cute though? It's truly amazing how much her teeth have already changed. They have straightened as well as tightened. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaxtsaibns2G8aJq5h552cKfat823Gjl0ZbQVu5ciGDNCVqYA6qzkUaUfne13hrMTURof3MuFlDJu_TWy1SSpLtfJvTcsHt__djZPo919CsbtCBj-Axxx4OdfeqGIhguDJfyKEDtcrDC1O/s640/blogger-image--889627539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaxtsaibns2G8aJq5h552cKfat823Gjl0ZbQVu5ciGDNCVqYA6qzkUaUfne13hrMTURof3MuFlDJu_TWy1SSpLtfJvTcsHt__djZPo919CsbtCBj-Axxx4OdfeqGIhguDJfyKEDtcrDC1O/s640/blogger-image--889627539.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-WH6NCTSGBzExOw7D5ylc8jJzrHVIqsJREg5AnoSYbmJMX4zoNnwwBSuzQL7xy_1Vb2qtYw7hGdzMjmGt6hmKOLyFO6FFa4vXDATpYH7F4kuNFtx4kgiXSQMe3e3S6G3OHkVADvirlPh-/s640/blogger-image--2115174079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-WH6NCTSGBzExOw7D5ylc8jJzrHVIqsJREg5AnoSYbmJMX4zoNnwwBSuzQL7xy_1Vb2qtYw7hGdzMjmGt6hmKOLyFO6FFa4vXDATpYH7F4kuNFtx4kgiXSQMe3e3S6G3OHkVADvirlPh-/s640/blogger-image--2115174079.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44-L6U1QY6sHhsg2oKess2KmKZsjUPt16qSfxdF93KbIdpMh6fMDAk5nuXMY64ZFzCjAtcv25I509VJIZKjCNK6Tj4LNLOyoD4DwPBsMZL-yTRTDhyP-bk8jU1VhubSjwIdu09U67sDEg/s640/blogger-image--2085877941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44-L6U1QY6sHhsg2oKess2KmKZsjUPt16qSfxdF93KbIdpMh6fMDAk5nuXMY64ZFzCjAtcv25I509VJIZKjCNK6Tj4LNLOyoD4DwPBsMZL-yTRTDhyP-bk8jU1VhubSjwIdu09U67sDEg/s640/blogger-image--2085877941.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3j3DY0S1x9Aj3RG-5wUbq5HWXnRieQ6uz3Yp9wOMYASySv52RpmYkV8WP703dJYgh5H_WygUCf7d7cP9LzJL7YO1ZZnp07BY8D_ps4FT-dKjeFjaNZCudQms9MphEq1fXUPuNHNQx0Q1v/s640/blogger-image-1442219546.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3j3DY0S1x9Aj3RG-5wUbq5HWXnRieQ6uz3Yp9wOMYASySv52RpmYkV8WP703dJYgh5H_WygUCf7d7cP9LzJL7YO1ZZnp07BY8D_ps4FT-dKjeFjaNZCudQms9MphEq1fXUPuNHNQx0Q1v/s640/blogger-image-1442219546.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>I could tell that her first day of school was a blast from the excitement in her stories. She was ecstatic over her teachers, and the friends that she has. Of course, we had to celebrate the first day with a tasty sundae for us all to share.</div><div><br></div><div>I believe this year may bring her more joy than she ever expected. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLutlK5ZOlw5egaBgDtO8-VZEyYjSbC0CT02h3e3McNuweswX41UOaYPYmgh5w1gPwLGgtBtPeyZ36XVSmM-aDnsCC3hnymy7I5yGTIHYDfF3a2DKx-Zcv2KszrSdIliQ05PNoV7ImaXDA/s640/blogger-image--1494099946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLutlK5ZOlw5egaBgDtO8-VZEyYjSbC0CT02h3e3McNuweswX41UOaYPYmgh5w1gPwLGgtBtPeyZ36XVSmM-aDnsCC3hnymy7I5yGTIHYDfF3a2DKx-Zcv2KszrSdIliQ05PNoV7ImaXDA/s640/blogger-image--1494099946.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>The rest of her week seemed to have been spent having fun and getting to know her teachers fairly well. We slacked on bringing in teacher gift during the first three days of school, but I finally finished prepping and she'll be taking in a summer project of ours. </div><div><br></div><div>Peach preserves. Really? Who wouldn't love something so corny to say that you hope their summer was just "peachy."</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0w2n3V0IiiHmoERVDaG9JkYSFjOXSfOQznLumfRO-ERlCKnsBtQd3LHFnqpUGDx_Vtxr1i94yjWVBbDRmyUyBFY7qJGtX2Zf0TC163TdYdzQi4SHZKAFnOlvN0rhe0CStHai2dppfGDVy/s640/blogger-image-1998850537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0w2n3V0IiiHmoERVDaG9JkYSFjOXSfOQznLumfRO-ERlCKnsBtQd3LHFnqpUGDx_Vtxr1i94yjWVBbDRmyUyBFY7qJGtX2Zf0TC163TdYdzQi4SHZKAFnOlvN0rhe0CStHai2dppfGDVy/s640/blogger-image-1998850537.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAP2fSw8kma2rQe7xvIgDreI4iy6yyaAWZS5PBQATWdMmNOgWNvU_G4GIK3yaLtuwhlwpGB9KZtLWZhpxh_7li75VaTF1FlqxLjW_J361MNaikCWiBlSS1g3H76dJwmf0cSKMBZsQeWHB/s640/blogger-image-867693779.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAP2fSw8kma2rQe7xvIgDreI4iy6yyaAWZS5PBQATWdMmNOgWNvU_G4GIK3yaLtuwhlwpGB9KZtLWZhpxh_7li75VaTF1FlqxLjW_J361MNaikCWiBlSS1g3H76dJwmf0cSKMBZsQeWHB/s640/blogger-image-867693779.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Yep... I'm still THAT weird mom. </div><div><br></div><div>Hashtag, forever and always. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-23056850411116472622016-08-05T21:19:00.000-05:002016-08-10T00:47:55.701-05:00Summers End<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-tt-0xsS-mVIJ8yoRQN1R4dnpPJ74GFjMtFCuICObccUeaFWLc4ZlQE9GhaFMQBujkkn6VXkYkPdJw2Pv_gC4x2kYfNxZXGTZldXnmSZ8fO90nchzLhafqA2eEq74BQaTZGgT6G4Pyvw/s640/blogger-image--402115758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-tt-0xsS-mVIJ8yoRQN1R4dnpPJ74GFjMtFCuICObccUeaFWLc4ZlQE9GhaFMQBujkkn6VXkYkPdJw2Pv_gC4x2kYfNxZXGTZldXnmSZ8fO90nchzLhafqA2eEq74BQaTZGgT6G4Pyvw/s640/blogger-image--402115758.jpg"></a></div><br></div>
<div><br></div>Tonight I laid my ten year old daughter down to tuck into bed. I kissed her, told her goodnight and reminded her once more than when she wakes she will be a true fifth grader. At one time her sweet innocent mind called herself a, "no grader" until school actually started. Which I have to admit, that I'm pretty okay with.<div><br></div><div>It doesn't matter how many times I've been through the process of first day of schools, each one tugs my Mommy heart. The older the more the nerves start working. I worry about her many test scores. How she will befriend others, and how they may even like my tiny little, "mighty mouse" of a daughter. I wonder how she will adjust to a new independent grade level, of switching classes and keeping her head high. If she will find her voice, and become more confident in that area that she struggles most in. </div><div><br></div><div>I could literally worry and ponder all night. </div><div><br></div><div>But this year I won't. </div><div><br></div><div>Not because she's older. But because I know that whatever is thrown her way, she will handle it with care. If she doesn't she'll pick it back up to try again. </div><div><br></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">-There's always that one Summer that changes you.-</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLAkcw69ASKrzW7gRXtAl1LklNR6nDduG8kojfqDwAdO0XVWiJe5AKIR7hsbuAfKYfbzTvix0bxqvGGUy2fsrp723yNWzoEzZ4qVaWeuwKC5-hPwbS45xxWb3pfpiSFISGIVZVM54QjEe/s640/blogger-image-912450755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLAkcw69ASKrzW7gRXtAl1LklNR6nDduG8kojfqDwAdO0XVWiJe5AKIR7hsbuAfKYfbzTvix0bxqvGGUy2fsrp723yNWzoEzZ4qVaWeuwKC5-hPwbS45xxWb3pfpiSFISGIVZVM54QjEe/s640/blogger-image-912450755.jpg"></a></div><br></div></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This hasn't been a fun Summer. It most certainly wasn't an easy one. It was hot, tiresome, aching at times, and down right heartbreaking the rest. This Summer has been one of many that I've learned things about myself during. Although, my dear girl may not realize it just as I have not in the past, this was her Summer to begin learning things about herself. </span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">-During the hardest of times, we learn our strengths and weaknesses. -</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Summer 2016, showed Charli how much love she has in her heart. That even when she wants to refuse to do something, she will step until she is out of her comfort zone to love another. It may be baby steps, but she inches her way to whatever it takes. She realized that even in the most uncomfortable, awkward, and gut wrenching situations it's okay to be yourself. Not only is it okay, it's a must. </span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Her work ethic took leaps and bounds in helping everyone she could. From working in the garden, canning preserves, cleaning a house, or taking care of chickens that we preyed upon. She learned, she conquered and now we both know all she can handle.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I'll never say that this year won't be easy. Or that I won't worry about her confidence, heart or what all is stored in her little brain. I just know that this girl has proven so very much to me this summer and I couldn't be anymore proud. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">---</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">My prayer for my tiny fifth grader is that she never sways from the qualities that are placed within her heart of gold. That if she were to ever loose focus that she remembers how much more fun life is, when we give a little more than we already have. For, "</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I know you got mountains to climb, </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But always stay humble and kind." </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">May this school year be wonderful. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4hwJ9Rc2FUmyQzW4hBwcm_u8UtdvdRGSHedOEIHBo4wSLzx9eAu5yPWTS8C1ELR7nHm-VJfgNjXpDDA-Kl9ElZ6Hk45MnzPfUMRkUaHwHKlVbzPLhuPp8rJ9E9GLAJByFWe1kTyTRRvs/s640/blogger-image--178399565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4hwJ9Rc2FUmyQzW4hBwcm_u8UtdvdRGSHedOEIHBo4wSLzx9eAu5yPWTS8C1ELR7nHm-VJfgNjXpDDA-Kl9ElZ6Hk45MnzPfUMRkUaHwHKlVbzPLhuPp8rJ9E9GLAJByFWe1kTyTRRvs/s640/blogger-image--178399565.jpg"></a></div><br></span><div>
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<br></div></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227045473642948561.post-29061408187253416332016-07-28T00:31:00.001-05:002016-08-01T00:11:50.230-05:00Peace In The Valley.On July 8, 2016 the world became a little less bright, as my Dad entered the gates of Heaven and is now healthy resting at the feet of our Savior. Only a week and a day after coming home from the hospital with hospice assisting only twice. One night after his beloved wife was able to sleep by his side for the first time in over a month - by a pop up bed that she frantically waited for FedEx to deliver, just so she could wrap her arms around him once more. Only a few hours after telling his grandchildren he loved them, and joking like his typical self. <div><br></div><div>The unknown passing process is scary. So scary that you spend time fretting over it yourself. You wonder about how it will work, and beg God to let the long suffering diminish. But when the time comes and you can truly say that peace was instilled within, it gives you a thankful heart like never before. </div><div><br></div><div>To be able to sit back and literally write my heart into a blog is sometimes negatively looked upon. But this is my place. A place where my heart is open and words sometimes flow more easily than vocally. This is my place to be in the moment. Just me typing and little bits of emotion that I can very seldom show are released into what one would call an online journal. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm not much of a writer, or even a blogger. But I enjoy it, and apparently my Dad likes reading or listening as well. There aren't words to describe our heart, or how the memories already sneak up on us and bring tears to our eyes. But for the sake of my blog, I felt the need to update. </div><div><br></div><div>To share that after two years of fighting, and standing strong within his faith Marcel received his forever home. We are sad, yet so very thankful for his peace in the valley to be forever felt. I may not ever develop the right words to blog about that day, or I may not ever want to share them aloud. But for now I would like to say thank you for the prayers, food, messages and thoughts. Our world may be grieving, but our hearts are brighter from the love that has been shown over the last two years. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327193222208177195noreply@blogger.com1