tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-164497942024-03-07T17:54:26.348-06:00Adeline the Porcupine, King John VI, Sir Nicholas the Great & Count Greyson, the last hurrah.an online photojournal of our precious little girl and her handsome brothersAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.comBlogger365125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-36132438996786971542018-09-11T16:52:00.000-05:002018-09-11T17:02:13.842-05:00Family Pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-63106557042071201442018-09-10T16:33:00.000-05:002018-09-10T16:33:44.084-05:00Gryffindor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-73920199768292901452012-05-18T16:14:00.000-05:002012-05-18T16:14:55.026-05:00Nicholas. Age 3.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Nicholas is without. a. doubt. the LIFE of our family. He is wild and crazy and funny and naughty and everything that reminds me of myself on the inside... but uninhibited. Just recently he put all the couch cushions on the floor and was dancing and jumping from cushion to cushion when he slipped and fell on his mouth. After crying for a few minutes and wanting to get down and play I realized his tooth didn't look quite right. Sure enough, he cracked it off at the root. And now we have Nick. The toothless wonder. </div>
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And teeth or no teeth this boy does NOT stop living!</div>
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One of the few peaceful moments we have in the house is when Nicholas is playing on some form of apple product.</div>
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Nick has a natural athletic ability that never ceases to surprise me. He shoots basketballs all day long in a little hoop he has in the driveway and makes an amazingly high percentage of them! He even dribbles the ball! Watching him play is like watching a mini basketball practice session! And if he isn't playing basketball he is running or riding his bike, chasing his brothers or sister, wrestling his Daddy or just screaming at the top of his lungs. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCA2wMKoEaaV70HW2mR1VhEX8o5GUwzKB3o7Aybz4bveLGFwKFDC5VeKZchsft9QaGZyV-eJxL87FOTCpSK9wgnjkuG6mB-RWm8iqd-IIznnAw-dSbBCSdW7-Y7k4qps82Xeo6/s1600/Nicholas++bw+150512_8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCA2wMKoEaaV70HW2mR1VhEX8o5GUwzKB3o7Aybz4bveLGFwKFDC5VeKZchsft9QaGZyV-eJxL87FOTCpSK9wgnjkuG6mB-RWm8iqd-IIznnAw-dSbBCSdW7-Y7k4qps82Xeo6/s640/Nicholas++bw+150512_8.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAjmUzBYwi6pJyFgzfqyLxVTE7tM068dOZkdIseJakAfs_cHtBjQ9yVxI4jUsw17-E3N8O3c6d4wUfp5YstVIMvTfBtTs1k2OPtkuJ2m3KAmoRc1iNQlN_GU3TklIHUH1S-Mt/s1600/Nicholas++bw+150512_10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAjmUzBYwi6pJyFgzfqyLxVTE7tM068dOZkdIseJakAfs_cHtBjQ9yVxI4jUsw17-E3N8O3c6d4wUfp5YstVIMvTfBtTs1k2OPtkuJ2m3KAmoRc1iNQlN_GU3TklIHUH1S-Mt/s640/Nicholas++bw+150512_10.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></div>
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Something else unique about Nicholas is that he insists on dressing himself. He loves to pick out his own clothes and he has some STRONG opinions about what he wears.... needless to say they aren't always appropriate. :)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YkENbSqJ5rmYAZsV2hMH-TagxKlOOP3NBfdmghyphenhyphen8wHu90eb1Ancc5ZVAoVWDdT65KiivyqcGNdAcbSLkQNixx9V7deAwm5SwW4KvTHbtPwnvVmiZRj2_786aSNEqV_z-OUPp/s1600/Nicholas++bw+051512_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YkENbSqJ5rmYAZsV2hMH-TagxKlOOP3NBfdmghyphenhyphen8wHu90eb1Ancc5ZVAoVWDdT65KiivyqcGNdAcbSLkQNixx9V7deAwm5SwW4KvTHbtPwnvVmiZRj2_786aSNEqV_z-OUPp/s640/Nicholas++bw+051512_5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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From the time he was a baby he has been making us laugh... and I expect he will make us laugh for years to come. </div>
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We love you Nicholas! We love your amazing sense of humor, your insanely long eyelashes, your crazy voices, your silly sayings and even your naughtiness. We are so grateful God gave us such an amazing and special boy!</div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-70959404828099297402012-05-15T23:09:00.002-05:002012-05-15T23:09:30.901-05:00John Michael. Age 5.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
What is there NOT to love about John Michael? He is a charmer with an abundance of personality!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpm06RSS8bGe48lKkrl0mOu0ASObG61QDBCV-yLNXQiF4xZd4JOlBdVfUIEM5WRUHMDA8Hb1y0krFsgEOpHNu9LbJny0sKohnx1gYuZyVbMXirA1DDI3TLtDLcGS_71NEXmBP/s1600/John+Michael+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpm06RSS8bGe48lKkrl0mOu0ASObG61QDBCV-yLNXQiF4xZd4JOlBdVfUIEM5WRUHMDA8Hb1y0krFsgEOpHNu9LbJny0sKohnx1gYuZyVbMXirA1DDI3TLtDLcGS_71NEXmBP/s640/John+Michael+blog.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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John Michael has a sweet freedom about him to be silly and funny and affectionate. Here he is meditating like the monkey in The Lion King. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGvjrio3312XKw12TX3JWBZd0caVOUlsRcg-Ko3o5K8PdT8fcmS_Hn3wQQAxkhwI9uAT_taGpSDjlWXwtJlHghDrEg1g2djXmAZWHFDyKueDHwVxXFcvkK2viP2QBJR3xTnOy/s1600/John+Michael+04052012+07+web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGvjrio3312XKw12TX3JWBZd0caVOUlsRcg-Ko3o5K8PdT8fcmS_Hn3wQQAxkhwI9uAT_taGpSDjlWXwtJlHghDrEg1g2djXmAZWHFDyKueDHwVxXFcvkK2viP2QBJR3xTnOy/s640/John+Michael+04052012+07+web.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And giggling.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3q1VkY_ma6H52V7Gx6y4D71ugijrwknzZa-kSHuYaXLcDMuXlyz7e33ze9AnrCfSu01KNxHiZmryP6smPDEjbzokA3v2ARz80tFDs34rIhsSj2lENvOey1Omb3epgdkEUjJn/s1600/John+Michael+04052012+14+web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3q1VkY_ma6H52V7Gx6y4D71ugijrwknzZa-kSHuYaXLcDMuXlyz7e33ze9AnrCfSu01KNxHiZmryP6smPDEjbzokA3v2ARz80tFDs34rIhsSj2lENvOey1Omb3epgdkEUjJn/s640/John+Michael+04052012+14+web.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And making me giggle!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOS2Jo8kFQELCbRIyqM8G1pKG5Z-BeFNGLnoJkw16Weaa6pLZzycQTjoxw-pzqJI3wAi49ZegNJw5oanF__tfbzeey2YjMSBY6oIf3KDvvhZHtb6ScsimPs-izpCny8d1r1i8/s1600/John+Michael+04052012+15+web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOS2Jo8kFQELCbRIyqM8G1pKG5Z-BeFNGLnoJkw16Weaa6pLZzycQTjoxw-pzqJI3wAi49ZegNJw5oanF__tfbzeey2YjMSBY6oIf3KDvvhZHtb6ScsimPs-izpCny8d1r1i8/s640/John+Michael+04052012+15+web.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And making Greyson giggle!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0y6zTCSCKlhv9V63U3wdiDdx1CIeYiZ4yiT3bodNN9jwSZb1bOA1e2t0GkEOLq6wGKNCdNgoJIzkdNYTMicY-1hKgNkcNCRDsHofAL6dZcGFeOVQFP_IkYyUyA7PUYpRLzEd/s1600/John+Michael+04052012+16+web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0y6zTCSCKlhv9V63U3wdiDdx1CIeYiZ4yiT3bodNN9jwSZb1bOA1e2t0GkEOLq6wGKNCdNgoJIzkdNYTMicY-1hKgNkcNCRDsHofAL6dZcGFeOVQFP_IkYyUyA7PUYpRLzEd/s640/John+Michael+04052012+16+web.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And snuggling.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-k0ktFTv0Jwt5so1xX_TgRbmkd1PtiTsTy-zmsNwtW5-SIKx48Y9j_KGMnjUcPp5PZEz-PgI_I89GDj4SzZhKoNbFSCSVwVZ04OW1zHEimDa9JXUe1sXM82nfjeb-vywoHk9/s1600/John+Michael+04052012+17+web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-k0ktFTv0Jwt5so1xX_TgRbmkd1PtiTsTy-zmsNwtW5-SIKx48Y9j_KGMnjUcPp5PZEz-PgI_I89GDj4SzZhKoNbFSCSVwVZ04OW1zHEimDa9JXUe1sXM82nfjeb-vywoHk9/s640/John+Michael+04052012+17+web.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Sweet, sweet boy</div>
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John Michael is HUGE. Simply put. He is consistently off the charts for his height and any day now we expect him to be taller than his big sister! </div>
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And his brain is just as big as his body! He loves to put together puzzles, he's a whiz at math and he is turning into an amazing reader! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkkg9ZVDhlfRN-vEaPFuPxjObTAcp_hTMV1bFdnJBncuWpr05mnocIfFdGdNBKjJwEvTAgNZJgVhoXdPYowNACjdMDweYLmo4T7uG76hbMIu_GYaiaURB7nT6kiWrrgUHct4e/s1600/John+Michael+04152012+03+web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkkg9ZVDhlfRN-vEaPFuPxjObTAcp_hTMV1bFdnJBncuWpr05mnocIfFdGdNBKjJwEvTAgNZJgVhoXdPYowNACjdMDweYLmo4T7uG76hbMIu_GYaiaURB7nT6kiWrrgUHct4e/s640/John+Michael+04152012+03+web.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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He's also playing T-ball this year and rocking it!!<br />
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What stands out to me the most about John Michael is his sweet nature. He is always the first one to hug me and tell me I'm beautiful. He is going to make some lucky woman an amazing husband one day! </div>
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John Michael... thank you for loving me so sweetly. Thank you for serving me and our family by joyfully doing chores around the house. Thank you for working diligently at school and delighting in us as much as we delight in you. </div>
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<span id="goog_200388281"></span><span id="goog_200388282"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-28209145918112800452012-05-12T19:59:00.000-05:002012-05-12T19:59:21.496-05:00Adeline. Age Seven.<div style="text-align: center;">
Addy has been growing up so much! She turned seven a couple of months ago and we have been enjoying watching her grow in her independence! </div>
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This past year we moved her to her own bedroom on the same level as us and she LOVES having her own room. She said living with the boys upstairs was like living with a stampede of elephants!</div>
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She is an amazing reader. After Kindergarten she tested into a fourth grade reading level! Every night before she goes to bed she listens to Adventures in Odyssey and reads as long as we'll let her. </div>
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Being a good reader has helped Addy to become a great student! Here she is at our dining room table plugging away at school. What a serious student...</div>
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Who knows how to melt my heart! </div>
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Here she is reviewing her History lessons. </div>
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Such a funny position to read in!</div>
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Probably her most exciting step toward independence has been learning how to ride a bike!</div>
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Addy was also able to be a part of Gems this year. She absolutely loved the opportunity to be with other girls her age and older and learn about loving Jesus and serving Him with her life. Here she is on her way to the Gems sleepover. She was so excited!</div>
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We are so crazy about you Adeline! You are smart and funny and witty and you have the most amazing memory! I love that you love to wear dresses and high heels and you have your own ideas and opinions about everything. I love that your best friend is John Michael and that you are like a little mama to Nicholas and Greyson. Thank you for loving us back and sneaking into our bed and reading about Laura Ingalls Wilder and Anne of Green Gables with your daddy and me! </div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-19575699937255498612011-06-08T09:07:00.000-05:002011-06-08T09:07:05.632-05:00John Michael<div style="text-align: center;">John Michael is quite the fighter these days. I honestly can't think of anything he loves more than to gather his growing collection of Nerf swords, shields, daggers, battle axes, maces, etc. and bring them to Johnny to have a war. They fight and fight and fight. It really feels like the essence of boyhood. He swings as hard as he can only to be blocked by his strong daddy. He grunts and giggles and shrieks with delight. He talks about his gear when he isn't playing with them and carries it around the house. He's in love. And we're in love with him! Because despite this all out boyish behavior he is the most tender child that ever lived. He loves to care for people, to comfort them, to bless them, to snuggle with them, to encourage them. He's growing up to be strong and sweet. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/michellehamstra/5811996316/" title="John Michael Fighter storyboard by Region Mom, on Flickr"><img alt="John Michael Fighter storyboard" height="640" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2492/5811996316_b90368d440_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-77139375715880797782011-06-07T12:02:00.001-05:002011-06-07T12:02:55.407-05:00Breaking the Pattern.<div style="text-align: center;">To the three people who still might read this blog... namely, my parents, my grandparents and my sister, long time no see! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Here is a sweet little picture of Greyson. He is 15 months old this week. He hates vegetables & fruit and only sometimes eats dairy. He usually doesn't say no to carbs though! Especially the snacky kind, goldfish, pretzels, crackers, etc. He's still very smiley but is learning very quickly how to throw a tantrum. He isn't walking but for the first time I'm noticing some readiness skills. He is looking at the next thing to hold onto and considering going over to it without holding on before plopping down and crawling. I think this summer will be when he starts walking!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">His eyes are so blue and spending time in the sun over the past couple of weeks is making his hair blonder. He loves to be wrestled with, thrown around and held. He loves telephones and computers and reading books. He hated taking baths for the entire first year of his life but now he BEGS for them and cries when he has to get out. Everybody is gaga for grey grey. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="greyby baby 15 months" height="533" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2357/5808463659_823a299091_o.jpg" width="800" /><br />
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After I posted this i realized that his eyes aren't all the way opened and he looks constipated. Oh well, he's still cute. :)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-17245214130485421292010-12-09T18:06:00.002-06:002010-12-09T18:08:37.400-06:00Greyson's First Christmas<div style="text-align: center;">Today Greyson is 9 months old and I didn't even realize it until I started to write this post. These days my brain only keeps track of who is eating wheat these days and who isn't. It only registers poopy diapers and cries of pain... while little milestones get overlooked. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And its his first Christmas. He loves the Christmas tree... but there isn't much he doesn't love. I call him the happiest baby in the world, because he is. I think I can count the number of times he's really cried on one hand. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Grey got his first tooth last month at my sister's house. It was a rough night for him but it finally came through and he's chomping away at Cheerios and puffs these days!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's a sweet boy. I can't wait to see what he's going to be like when he's older. He's definitely my most relaxed baby yet... and I'm sure he gets that peaceful demeanor from his mother. :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He is one of the most precious gifts God has given us and it is my prayer that I will learn to enjoy him more and clean less. That I will show him how great my God is and that he will call Him his Lord too. That I will be the display of the grace of God to Him and that his memories of life at home will be joyful, full of the Spirit and fun.... not just efficient.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My little Grey-bee.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Grey's First Christmas web" height="800" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5206/5247896320_7e7a78c744_o.jpg" width="533" /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-81759985359913771362010-10-13T20:12:00.000-05:002010-10-13T20:12:55.152-05:00Glasses Girl<div style="text-align: center;">My girl got glasses.</div><div style="text-align: center;">My girl loves glasses.</div><div style="text-align: center;">My girls insisted on pink glasses.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love my girl.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Addy's glasses board" height="602" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4008/5080020150_df4ce94129_o.jpg" width="900" /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-54485355356235469082010-10-08T08:39:00.000-05:002010-10-08T08:39:38.322-05:00John Mikey<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Yesterday while I was making my free Walgreens photo book I realized that I don't take many pictures of John Michael! And I don't know why because he is my most willing subject. This boy LOVES the camera and he is FULL of personality. He a full dose of the cheesy-nses that Johnny & I both have and its a non stop show for him in our house. He's a true 2nd child, laughing one minute, crying the next. There's nobody like him!!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><img alt="IMG_8665jpg web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4111/5061177371_1697de221a_b.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><img alt="IMG_8663jpg web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4147/5061177279_a5f297b5a2_b.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><img alt="IMG_8662jpg web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4092/5061177195_bae246f885_b.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><img alt="IMG_8660jpg web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4090/5061177087_7c46e8e25d_b.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">A few other things about John Michael.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He loves school. He BEGS to do school... and while his fine motor skills aren't very strong he rarely gets an answer wrong. (I couldn't resist the rhyme, I know, I know...)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He eats more meat than Cookie Monster eats cookies.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">His hair is adorable if he washed it that day... if not people look at me strange.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's cuddly and snuggly.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">His first instinct when he gets hurt is to ask me to pray for him.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He *adores* Greyson... but is often a little too rough with him. :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's still very attached to his "b" (Blanket) and wants to take it everywhere even though we try to limit it to his bed.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Addy calls him John Mikey, Nicholas calls him John Yichael.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's really, crazy tall. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We love him!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-15469699735213978152010-09-29T23:29:00.001-05:002010-09-29T23:32:20.509-05:00How I spend my time.<div style="text-align: center;">Someone very dear to me is often teasing me about the fact that I don't always answer my phone or my texts. I assure them that its not personal... but it is. A while ago it occurred to me that if I put down a child or a book or a toy to answer the phone every time it rings that I'm showing my children that something is more important than spending time with them at that moment. I work hard. Most of the day I am working... so these times when I am sitting with my kids, playing, reading, pretending... are precious. And few things could be worth interrupting those times. Those personal, one on one, or one on four :), times of personally connecting with my kids.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have the privilege of connecting with my kids just about every day. This year we made the hard decision to homeschool. It was embarrassing if I'm honest. I feel like I'm constantly defending my choice to home school (is that word one or two??) with, "Well, you know, private schools are just SO expensive." And they are. And we might've sent Adeline to a private school if circumstances were different. And that would've been fine and good. But as it is, circumstances aren't different and through MUCH prayer and MUCH conversation we've chosen to homeschool. I kind of went into it kicking a bit... and stressing a LOT. I wanted to be a stay at home mom whose kids were in school all day! What if my child ends up illiterate? What if he/she ends up completely socially awkward? What if they are DORKS!? What if it doesn't work? What if I choose the wrong curriculum? But what it comes down to for us is this: every day for the foreseeable future *I* have the privilege of being the one to personally connect with my school age kids. I have the opportunity to train them live for God and not themselves. I have the delight of watching them learn to read, to write, to discover, to love, to worship. I won't lie, its hard.... but its personal. Its connecting. And its my life right now.<br />
<br />
I took the obligatory backpack picture because all my friends were doing it and I didn't want Addy to not have one (YES, I have ISSUES.) but this one is so much more us. :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Adeline%20School" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4153/5037679843_f609201822_z.jpg" width="427" /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-64081129424227395542010-06-19T12:08:00.001-05:002010-06-19T12:08:39.979-05:00Someone stole my curls.<div style="text-align: center;">I used to think pregnancy robbed me of my curls. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now I know it was John Michael.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="JM web 2" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4024/4714855080_f1b04cbff3_b.jpg" width="533" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="JM web" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4059/4714213747_724da93853_b.jpg" width="533" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="John Michael curly hair 2jpg web" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4014/4714235605_aab102ae1d_b.jpg" width="533" /><img alt="John Michael curly hair 3jpg web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4024/4714876220_478b40d0f3_b.jpg" width="800" /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-7430895867331713002010-05-11T21:57:00.001-05:002010-05-11T22:00:56.158-05:002 months later<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Grey 2 months web" height="533" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3413/4600447062_ea0f0dab80_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Two short, sleepless months later and we simply could not imagine life without Greyson. He is such an easy baby. I am still surprised at how little he sleeps during the day but he has officially started sleeping through the night. My friend Rebecca is going to have to take the cake for the hardest baby #4... and I'll happily let her have it! </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Greyson started smiling early.. maybe between 4 and 5 weeks. He started sleeping through the night around week 7. Its not every night but its more nights than not! He's avoided a stomach virus - even sleeping through the night with me while I had it! Sadly though, he does have his second little cold and is handling it like a champ. :) </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">There isn't much more to say! He survives all his sibling's violent affection, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">spends more time in his swing than I'd like to own up to, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">doesn't get bathed as often as he should, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">is beginning to enjoy his blanket,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">smiles easily,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">cries rarely,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> and is the perfect addition to our family. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm planning on getting this one printed. :)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="grey 2 months storyboard" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4008/4600447262_3ec2a3cbe5_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-42997419051795506902010-05-05T11:57:00.002-05:002010-05-05T12:33:21.793-05:00Nick, on the move!<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Nicholas is 19 months. He hardly sits still these days! It makes it hard to get a non-blurry picture of him!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="nick 19 months" height="960" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4003/4581890488_b3472355f2_o.jpg" width="1200" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Nicholas:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">1. Is my only green eyed child.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">2. stands up in his high chair no matter how faithfully we train him.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">3. Just started eating meat without complaint!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">4. Calls his paci "Fwa-see go!"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">5. Loves his b.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">6. Won't let his brother and sister push him around.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">7. Laughs at just about everything.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">8. Keeps us VERY VERY busy.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">9. Is average in height and weight.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">10. Takes 4 hour naps - hallellujah.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">11. Lights up this home with laughter and craziness.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">12. Has shaggy, poorly cut hair. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">13. Cries more than he needs to.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">14. Calls bananas manas.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">15. Warms my heart.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-74785694005821720732010-04-08T13:17:00.003-05:002010-04-08T13:21:29.010-05:00One Month old<div style="text-align: center;">Tomorrow Greyson will be one month old. Wow. I might cry at each monthly milestone knowing that this is the last time I'll see it with one of my kids. I'm not a weepy person... but I have my share of post partum hormones these days.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Today I put him in his discovery gym to see if he would be interested. He wasn't. But he looked cute being bored. :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Grey Gym 5 web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4061/4502780629_d33eb820c3_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Grey gym 1jpg web" height="500" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2724/4502755841_ec584f8e41.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="grey gym 2jpg web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4050/4503386806_df8cf6b818.jpg" width="333" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="grey gym 4jpg web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4069/4502755623_ab0279c184_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div></div></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="grey gym 3jpg web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4052/4502755733_f7d7979fd9_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div></div></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">At four weeks he was 9-7 and 22 inches long so he's growing well. I think I'm done with chunky babies. :( My milk must not be as fatty as it once was - it sure isn't because I'm eating healthier. or exercising. Who has time for exercising when they're busy watching The Biggest Loser anyway?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">He's sleeping better too... but the little stinker DEFINITELY loves sleeping in my bed.... and I'm a big advocate of having your baby sleep in their own bed... but not more than I love sleep. So, clearly... Greyson is sleeping in bed with me.</span></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have a few of post partum "issues." I wouldn't call it depression but I'm definitely battling my emotions more than normal. To top it off I'm not losing ANY weight. I literally only lost Greyson's birth weight... and then put on another 3 pounds. So, I'm basically a chubby, edgy recluse. Feel free to visit anytime - I'm seriously good company. :) hehe</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-33344831848242802692010-03-29T10:45:00.002-05:002010-03-29T10:46:24.113-05:00Greyson. Day 19.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To put it simply, I have never had a newborn who has been this awake!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Addy, John Michael & Nicholas all shared a love for sleep. When they were newborns I had to wake them up to eat. I would literally have to take all their clothes off, rub them down with cool wash cloths, blow on their damp bodies and still... they would snooze on. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Greyson is totally different. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The kid doesn't sleep. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay, that's probably an exaggeration but he doesn't sleep </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">nearly</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as much as my first three babies did! He's a happy little guy - as long as he's being held or paid attention to - but he doesn't want to miss a thing! And wake him up to eat? Psh! He wouldn't miss a meal if his life depended on it. Or a snack. Or a midnight snack. Or a second middle of the night snack. :) I joke around that I was determined to enjoy every minute of every day with this little guy because this is our last baby... and he's just as determined to make me do so. "You want to enjoy every minute of every day with me? Then no sleep for you!"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I'll concede. Because, tired as I am (and I am seriously tired), I haven't yet tired from looking at this adorable little man who has book ended our family. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Greyson. Day 19.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="Greyson day 19 c web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4021/4472922885_44f05c0579_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="Greyson day 19 bw web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4015/4473699438_715b4a9c84_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="Greyson day 19 d web" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4019/4473698894_6b5cc7716a_o.jpg" width="533" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I'd like to say thanks to my mom and dad for staying the weekend with us. I got to sleep in, take a break from domestic responsibilities and even go to church with just Greyson for a little while on Sunday - and then have lunch with friends afterwards. Thanks Mom & Dad. You've helped make this transition so much easier. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span> </span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-19632887241356529762010-03-24T00:15:00.001-05:002010-03-24T00:19:50.481-05:00My First Baby<div style="text-align: center;">Two weeks ago I had a baby.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Five years ago I had my first.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">First of all, may I just say: Coupling post-partum hormones with your first baby's fifth birthday is *not* a good combination. As if I'm not emotional enough! Then, to top it all off, one of the first things she says to me this morning is, "Mommy, since I'm five now do I still have to call you Mommy?" As my tears welled up in my eyes at the mere thought of her calling me "Mom" vs. "Mommy," I tried to play it off... "Well, what do you think you'd call me instead? Michelle?" "No." she replied... and left it at that. Whew.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My precious, beautiful, precocious little girl turned five years old today. Her life is passing before my eyes. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 7 web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4032/4458559457_386970df7d_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanks to our friends in the church I have not had to make many meals since Greyson joined our crew.... which meant that Addy and I had time today to make her a birthday cake. It was a simple recipe from the infamous Pioneer Woman and I think just making the cake made her birthday wonderful. She loves to help cook - much more than she loves to help clean. :) But, to top it off she also got to pick out her breakfast and go to Tyler's Tender for lunch. She rode the train, played video games, ate her favorite lunch (grilled cheese and apple sauce) and had an ice cream sunday brought out to her on a train while the staff sang Happy Birthday to her. She commented throughout the day, "Isn't this the most wonderful day ever?" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well, I ruined that for her pretty quickly by forcing her to take a few pictures for me to commemorate the day. :) But, she jumped right back into "great day mode" by jumping on the trampoline with Johnny & John Michael and inviting guests over to share her cake. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She loves guests. I pray that this love for guests turns into a love for hospitality. :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Adeline loves to read.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Adeline loves to read the Bible.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Her best friends are John Michael and Faith.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She's bossy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She's smart.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She has a memory that impresses me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She loves to argue.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She loves to eat.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She loves to eat sugar.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She has a quirky little accent thats a mix between British and Region.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She loves to sleep in our bed... and gets to do so regularly.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Her favorite color is pink.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She still loves her Lucy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She's our only girl.... and the joy of our home. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We thank God for her every chance we get.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Our girl.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 14 web" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4020/4459339028_a178ea948d_o.jpg" width="533" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; white-space: normal;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So, I hope the gazillion pictures I'm posting don't bore you. I simply couldn't narrow it down. And why should I? </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 15 web" height="500" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2725/4458559621_dcc2e51c6b.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="Addy is five 16 web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4056/4459338846_55ca33ff02.jpg" width="333" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sass.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 11 bw web" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4029/4458559105_8e130eddea_o.jpg" width="533" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy%20is%20five%204%20web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4072/4459337986_2459aacf0e.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="Addy is five 3 web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4040/4459338238_6d2e154df9.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="Addy is 5 1 web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4006/4458559041_a72c373ab7.jpg" width="333" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 8 web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4018/4458559361_e7d75d33e0_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 9 web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4008/4458559265_3c205f6d5e_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy%20is%20Five%202%20web" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4015/4459337918_f334a6c013_o.jpg" width="533" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I like this picture because even though she looks girly in most of these pictures she LOVES to get dirty. :)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img alt="Addy is five 10 web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4005/4458559175_a804f5d2df_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This picture makes me smile. She's really so silly.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 13 web" height="533" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2746/4458559765_f14c64a08c_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And this is SO her.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 5 web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4055/4459338178_7c8b89ef49.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="Addy is five 6 web" height="500" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2795/4458558845_91bb19122c.jpg" width="333" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 13 web" height="533" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2746/4458559765_f14c64a08c_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She has her Daddy's lashes.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five lashes web" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4022/4459339154_28c1db7924_o.jpg" width="533" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy is five 12 web" height="800" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2794/4458558775_8e9c3c4d8a_o.jpg" width="533" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">And of course, eating her cake. :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Adeline Birthday Cake 2 web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4061/4459339236_16a30eae17.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="addy%20cake%201%20web" height="500" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2781/4459337856_d878702b93.jpg" width="333" /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-44370033517325760752010-03-19T12:47:00.000-05:002010-03-19T12:47:59.230-05:00Baby Grey Grey<div style="text-align: center;">Everyone keeps saying things like, "I can't wait to see Greyson's newborn session!" Well... this little guy doesn't stop eating long enough to allow me to take his picture! He's seriously a non-stop grazer. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So, I <i>am</i> hoping to do a newborn session in the next couple of days but until then I thought I'd at least take a few pictures. I have been terrible about taking pictures since I got home so here's an attempt at changing. :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have such a hard time deciding between color and black and white!! Johnny chose color for these... I chose black & white... so I'm just going to mix it up and do a little of both. :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Baby Grey Grey - day 9</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Grey Grey 3 colorjpg web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4003/4444670874_e97a8379bd_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Grey Grey 2 colorjpg web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4020/4444670940_f45719f28b.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="Grey Grey 1 colorjpg web" height="500" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2753/4443900679_493b07bcfc.jpg" width="333" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Grey web 2" height="800" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2751/4444651652_2cee1e4b61_o.jpg" width="533" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Grey Grey 6jpg web" height="500" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2785/4443900279_dafb61e0b8.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="Grey web 5" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4056/4444651326_65d7804f0d.jpg" width="333" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Grey Grey 4 colorjpg web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4068/4443900433_e71ba960c7_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="grey web 7" height="533" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2786/4445314683_f039ae199a_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-57194187835363617212010-03-15T22:16:00.005-05:002010-03-15T22:21:11.909-05:00From Grass to Greyson<div style="text-align: center;">Okay, okay... I haven't officially stopped eating grass yet but its on its way out, I promise! And I can't think of a better replacement for my addiction than my adorable, gift from God.. Greyson David. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Who doesn't like to be <i>right</i> every once in a while? <a href="http://mhamstra.blogspot.com/2010/02/dead-snowman.html">I recently predicted that Greyson would be born on March 9</a> and I'd like to take a moment to boast that.... I was right. I don't get many opportunities to say it so I'm just going to take this moment to say it again... hehe... I was right! :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Greyson was born on Tuesday, March 9, 2010.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Since March 1st I was having regular, consistent, uncomfortable contractions.... but alas, they always went away. I even ended up at the hospital one night because I thought I was in early labor.... and ended up taking the walk of shame out of the labor & delivery department back to home sweet home. :) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Every night for the next week we'd clean the whole house & get the kids clothes out for the next day in hopes that *this* would be the night I went into labor. But, he made us wait for it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So, when Monday night came around and I was having regular, consistent, uncomfortable contractions I figured it was more of the same - but I still cleaned the whole house, caught up on the laundry and set out the kids clothes. I crawled into bed around 1:00 am and fell fast asleep thinking about whether or night tonight would be the night.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">When I woke up at 4:00 in the morning to a really hard, painful contraction I <i>knew</i>. Normally, when contractions wake me up I time them and end up going back to sleep. This time I immediately woke Johnny up. This one contraction was more than enough to let me know this was the real thing! We did the standard - run a hot bath, start timing the contractions steps but after about 10 minutes there was no doubt in my mind that it was time to go. We called our Moms and started loading up.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I chose to use a midwife for this pregnancy and the closest midwife my insurance covers is in Oak Park, IL. The hospital they deliver at is about an hour away so we knew we were going to have a long, uncomfortable drive ahead of us. Luckily, because of the early morning time, we were able to take a more direct route (94) instead of the more indirect route we normally take to avoid traffic (294). The shorter route combined with Johnny's crazy speeding we made the 60 minute trip in 35 minutes! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My midwife and I agreed that she wouldn't come in to meet me there unless I called her to say things were getting "intense." Her plan was to have the Triage nurses check me in and call her and that she would head over to the hospital at that point. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>warning. the story gets a little graphic at this point. :)</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We arrived at the hospital at about 5:30 in the morning and they wheeled me up to the labor & delivery unit. They checked me and let me know that I was a "6 and very very stretchy." They called my midwife and told her to go ahead and come in and then set me up on a monitor to check my contractions and check the baby's heart rate. After about 5 minutes of being on the monitor my contractions were so bad I couldn't help but *go* to the bathroom. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I went into the bathroom a "6 and very stretchy" and came out in transition. I remember looking at Johnny, with panic in my heart, saying "Hey babe? You know that part I get to when I say "I can't do this anymore?' Well, this is it. This is that point. This is the point that its really, really hard. Like, really hard." He just kind of smiled - like 'Yah, we've done this before.... guess it'll be a couple of hours and the baby will be here.' kind of smile... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The nurse came in at this point and said she'd like to put in my heplock for my meds (I had Group B strep so they wanted me to get 2 rounds of antibiotics before the baby was born). I refused. I told her I didn't think there was time for "all that." She must've sensed that I was close because she said, "Okay, we'll wait until your midwife gets here to decide. How about we get you into a regular room to finish monitoring the baby." I agreed getting into a room was a good idea. She asked if I'd like a wheelchair but I refused. I was WAAAYY too uncomfortable to sit down in a wheelchair! I'd rather waddle to the room and have contractions on the way than sit down! So, off Johnny went to transfer all of our stuff to the new room and off went the nurse and I to walk their slowly...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>However,</i> I took less than 5 steps out of the room and had to lean over a chair because the pain was so intense. The contractions were literally one on top of another and I was barely getting a break enough to take a few steps. I tried to start walking again and had to lean against the wall because I literally felt Greyson coming out. I alerted the nurse that "he was coming!!" and she got on the intercom and alerted the nurses to help "stat." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Meanwhile, Johnny is in the room noticing all the nurses coming in, prepping, setting up, getting everything ready for delivery and he thought... "Wow, they're really getting ready early!" He dropped our stuff off in the corner and came back out into the hallway to help me walk the rest of the way.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Simultaneously, a nurse came up behind me with a wheel chair and said, "Michelle, <i>please</i> sit down in this wheelchair or you are going to have your baby in the hallway!" Sitting down was SO not an option so I kind of fell back in the wheel chair with my lower back on the edge of the seat. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>It gets a bit more graphic at this point...</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Because of the position of the baby my legs came up with me when I layed in the wheelchair... which meant I was in the public hallway, laying in a wheelchair with my legs open for everyone to see.... THANKFULLY, it was early in the morning on a night when nobody was having babies because anybody walking through the hallway would've gotten quite the show!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As Johnny walks out of the room this is what he sees: two nurses sprinting me down the hallway with my legs up in the wheelchair and all he can see is the baby's head crowning and about ready to come out. He calls out, "The head is coming out!!" They run me into the room and almost up to the bed where a nurse was frantically putting on some gloves and reaches down to catch Greyson plummeting out of my body in the nick of time. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It was mahem. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sheer chaos. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have seriously never experienced anything as wild and fast paced in all my life. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The nurse who caught Greyson attempted to put him on the bed but was immediately stopped by the warning of another nurse: "Wait! He's still attached!" Luckily, at this point a doctor walked in and took control until my midwife arrived. Under her direction they placed Greyson on my chest and took the steps to clamp and cut the umbilical cord. After a few moments they took Greyson to get weighed and measured and helped me move from the wheelchair to the bed. My midwife arrived at this point and everything seemed to slow down and go smoothly and as planned.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But, all I kept thinking was... "Wow. Its over! I just had a baby! Wow. That was crazy. Oh my gosh. I just had a baby in a wheelchair. Oh wow. I almost had him in the hallway."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Greyson was given back to me and nursed right away... and literally hasn't stopped since. :) I have simply loved and enjoyed him so much. After Nicholas' first few days of life it makes me remember that staying up at night with my baby is a privilege, not a burden. Its a gift, not a chore. And I'm trying to savor it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Special thanks to Johnny's mom who watched the 3 kids for most of the 2 days I was in the hospital. And thanks to my mom for staying with me the first few days after I came home from the hospital. Today was our first day on our own and while there have been a few crazy moments we're definitely both excited to have our family of four under the same roof and begin this next stage of our lives together. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<br />
The proud parents.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="grey web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4007/4436678266_787414ff79_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The proud siblings.<br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="grey web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4027/4436678026_bb6951c9d6.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="grey web" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4064/4436678142_cd85a8c07b.jpg" width="333" /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The unproud sibling. :) </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="grey web 5" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4013/4437353692_b03cc046e0_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The six of us. Wow.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="grey web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4038/4435904481_28a1506cf1_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">And the star of the show.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">My little Grey.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="grey web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4057/4437370332_54b49d620c_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-133261570713518562010-03-10T15:13:00.000-06:002010-03-10T15:13:54.953-06:00Greyson David - sneak peek<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52lX3EAWFOZhw1-oJJcWXn2V8X0H_22x1-GF5Rc2y43HcYStjPiqyRdXBgPCw2WGJg91j1y9D42jnQ6s9Fg_DhwaC95VAPbwh3wBUPil9ZijdPGock6xOSZPASFIjM1sr1SYh/s1600-h/Photo+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52lX3EAWFOZhw1-oJJcWXn2V8X0H_22x1-GF5Rc2y43HcYStjPiqyRdXBgPCw2WGJg91j1y9D42jnQ6s9Fg_DhwaC95VAPbwh3wBUPil9ZijdPGock6xOSZPASFIjM1sr1SYh/s640/Photo+11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-46816377761489899002010-03-10T11:42:00.002-06:002010-03-10T11:42:59.938-06:00Greyson David<div style="text-align: center;">Johnny & I are so proud and excited to announce that Greyson David was born yesterday morning at 5:39 am. He was 7 pounds 13 ounces and 19 inches long. It was a short and crazy labor and we're all doing great. I'll be sure to share pictures and our story with everyone soon!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-34769338816220856902010-03-05T14:30:00.002-06:002010-03-05T14:32:52.092-06:00Things that make you go... yes.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">There are times that I think... what in the world was I thinking having my kids so close together? This is nuts!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Then there are times... </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">when I overhear Addy teaching John Michael how to add.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">when I see John Michael giving Nicholas his "B" to comfort him.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">when I listen to the kids on the monitor laughing and being silly with each other when they're supposed to be sleeping.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">when I see Addy pushing John Michael in a laundry basket... laughing.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">when I walk into the room and see them cuddled up together on the couch looking through photo albums.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">And I think... yes. I'm so glad we "clustered" our children. I'm so glad they are each other's best friends. I'm so glad they keep me busy and exhausted and confused and exhilarated and proud and amused. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I hope these are the moments I remember forever.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="JM Basket web" height="800" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4033/4409254546_5e689ac636_o.jpg" width="533" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="a and jm photo album web" height="533" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4072/4408801473_b5502af903_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-26357595964118166462010-03-03T13:36:00.001-06:002010-03-03T13:36:42.550-06:00Addy-Daddy time<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Addy was never a snuggler When she was a baby she always wanted to be put down so she could crawl around or run around. She would give hugs and kisses with abandon and shower affection, smiles and joy on everyone and anyone... but she did NOT like staying still to snuggle. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">She changed.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">She'll be five this month and one of her absolute favorite things to do is snuggle with her Daddy. She loves to curl up next to him or climb on his lap and say "Hey Daddy, how about some Addy Daddy time?" Johnny will often try to use this time to talk to her about her day - what she did, etc. but Addy is adamant.. "No, Daddy. This is Addy Daddy time. No talking please." </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I guess snuggling is serious business. :)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Addy & Daddy blog" height="1000" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4009/4404728246_4900b6cb6d_o.jpg" width="900" /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-31537630739874534292010-03-02T13:50:00.000-06:002010-03-02T13:50:47.243-06:007 Years<div style="text-align: center;">Johnny & I celebrated 7 years of marriage together yesterday. I feel like I should say the same old addage everyone says about marriage and kids... "Its gone by so fast!" But, really? It hasn't. Its been a journey. Some years were hard, some weren't.... but when I look back it doesn't seem like just yesterday that we got married - quite the opposite really. Life before Johnny is blurry. I remember being single. I remember college life. I remember high school... but my life with Johnny, though only a little less than a quarter of my 29 years alive seems like my only reality. And its a good reality.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There are many reasons I love Johnny. I could take this opportunity to do what a lot of bloggers do (and I have done in the past) and list them here.... but I think I can sum it up by saying that Johnny keeps me loving God. My own instincts are selfish and self centered. My heart wanders away from what is most important in this world. Johnny, however, is a steamliner for Jesus and His glory. There are times my choices or my priorities or my attitudes clearly do not line up with His will for my life but I can't say that for Johnny. God has given him the ability to stay strong, no matter the circumstances, no matter his preferences. Its one of the main reasons I married him and I can safely say, 7 years and (almost) 4 kids later - I made a good choice. There could be a top 20 or a top 50 list of reasons I love him more today than I did when we got married but what trumps the most important reason at all? Because of my union with Johnny I am more in communion with my God.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Johnny & I Anniversary" height="533" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2767/4401397615_b5d26aaa0f_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; white-space: normal;"></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">This picture was taken yesterday. I am 40 weeks pregnant with our last baby.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">PS Does anyone read this blog anymore?</div><div><br />
</div></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16449794.post-33539006113149125492010-02-24T19:56:00.001-06:002010-02-24T19:58:28.592-06:00my baby's last days as the baby<div style="text-align: center;">As little Greyson's arrival draws closer and closer I'm increasingly aware that these are Nicholas' last days as the baby. He's known no other life but everything he knows as normal is about to "flip turn upside down" - as the Fresh Prince would say. :) I thought I'd take a moment and reflect on what he's like right now. :) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="I'm not the baby anymore web" height="533" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2759/4385416541_5c2be36bef_o.jpg" width="800" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; white-space: normal;">Nicholas is... a self proclaimed vegetarian. :( I don't know how he's going to make it in this house of meat lovers but this kid does NOT like meat. Every once in a while he eats it, oblivious to the fact that he's eating meat but for the most part he shoves it away and screams like a banchee if I force him to have a bite. :) </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's also lactose intolerant. He's never done well with dairy and its just getting worse. He's not as sensitive as some kids I've heard of but he absolutely can't handle yogurts, milk, lots of cheese, and without a doubt NO ICE CREAM. I'm tellin' you, it ain't pretty!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As many issues as he may have with food though - this kid is a definite Hamstra/Worthington. He LOVES to eat. He'll eat... and eat... and eat... and eat! Whenever people how much he eats - especially for breakfast - they are always shocked. This morning he ate 2 clementines, 3 pieces of French Toast and some cheerios. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's really starting to talk. His favorite things to say are: "Peease" "Up" "Where'd it go?" "B" "Paci" "Daddy!!" "Bampa" "Oooeeooohs" (Cheerios) & "Goggy" (Doggy). When he's not speaking English he's jibber jabbering in baby talk which is such a joy to listen to. :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img alt="Nick web 3" height="500" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2739/4385659537_1313935275.jpg" width="333" /><img alt="Nick web 2" height="500" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2685/4386418530_605192fbc6.jpg" width="333" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; white-space: normal;">He barks at all animals - birds, dogs, cows, pigs, cats, fish. You name it, he barks. :)</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He just moved into a new bed upstairs with Adeline & John Michael and he's loving it. He sleeps less at night because John Michael and him are always playing and yelling and being silly but that means he's also taking longer naps. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's a tried and true daddy's boy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's a man boy at that. He prefers uncles to aunts and grandpas to grandmas. This kid loves him some testosterone.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He loves to jump on my bed and fall down and say boom.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">John Michael's antics always make him laugh. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He eats a banana every morning and few things get him as excited.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's my baby... at least for the next few days... and I adore him.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14089332844988885616noreply@blogger.com2