Category Archives: memories

Mother’s Day – About Your Babies

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So, I’ve been trying to get back into swap-bot and joined up on a swap all about my kids! So, here are the questions, and some pictures of my kids to boot! So, the swap asks for baby pictures. Sadly, all of my baby pictures are in storage. So, I went with the youngest pictures of my kids that I could find on my digital means.

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My son at age 5

 

  1. How many children do you have? I have 2 kids, one boy and one girl.
  2. Where were they born? (Hospital, home?) Both my kids were born in the hospital, in different states.
  3. What are their current ages? My son is 14, my daughter is 10.
  4. How old were you when you had your first child? I was 20 when I had my son. Makes me feel old thinking about it.
  5. What did you like/love about being pregnant? I think that my favorite thing about being pregnant was feeling the baby move. That first fluttering movement, it’s just amazing.
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    My daughter at 18 months

    What didn’t you like about it? All the typical complaints, hurting feet and back, morning sickness, weight gain.

  7. Did you have an epidural? I did, both times. Though with my daughter, the way I had to lay to keep her on the monitor made it so that I was only numb on one said, and it wasn’t so bad.
  8. Is your mother still living? Alive and well and the mother of 9 children herself.
  9. What’s the best characteristic or trait that your children inherited from you? Both of my kids are stubborn and opinionated, just like me. I think this is a good thing (but I may be biased).
  10. What’s the best characteristic or trait that your children inherited from their father? Both kids can be very sweet, which they get from their dad.
  11. Do you still live at the same address you did when your youngest child was born? I don’t even live on the same side of the country
  12. Did your babies carry security blankets? Pacifiers? My son used a pacifier, but never had a blankie. My daughter started out on a pacifier, but got rid of it herself when she realized she could use her thumb, which she still does while cuddling her blankie.
  13. Do any of your babies still live with you? Both of them.
  14. Do any of your babies have babies of their own? Goodness, I hope not!
  15. What’s your hope and prayer for your babies in the future? That they grow into active, productive members of society and leave the world a bit better than when they arrived.

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    All three of us this past fall ages 14 and 10 (and me, so, not a kid)

52 Questions #6 Love

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February is the month of love. How fitting is it that the first question or the month is about love.

I do not know how either of my grandparent’s met. Not really. But I can share what I do know.

My dad’s parents met after World War II, they were both working in Washington DC, my grandmother worked in the war office. She was older than he was. They got divorced in the 70’s, when California made it easier to get a divorce. I don’t know if their relationship was happy. I know that my grandfather was an alcoholic, and that they lost two children when they were very young.

My mom’s parents, well, that’s a different story. My grandma has been married three times. And has outlived two of those three husbands. Her first husband died in a logging accident, leaving her with two small daughters at home. My grandfather, her second husband, was her first husbands best friend. They had four daughters together and he raised all six as though they were his own, and my grandma’s first husbands parents treated all o the girl as though they were their granddaughters, to the point that I knew my great-grandma as my great-grandma before I even knew that my grandma had a different husband than my grandpa. My grandpa died before my parents got married. He was in his 40’s and died of a heart attack. She’s been married to her third husband now since i was a little girl, probably close to 20 years. He’s been my grandpa almost longer than my dad’s dad who died when I was in high school.

This exercise makes me think that I need to find out, especially from my dad, how his parents met. I’m sure he knows. I’ve just never really asked.

I’m thankful for: The 10 year old boy version

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Thanksgiving is coming up. I’m sure we are all more than aware of that. This year I’m not cooking at home or going to a relatives house to spend time with family. We are victims of the ever increasing push and desire for consumerism that states that stores should open on Thanksgiving night. Who am I kidding? We’ll be at Wal-Mart at 6:00, two hours before my boyfriend needs to be to work at 8:00. But that is neither here nor there. I hear Cracker Barrel makes a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner and this year we will find out if that is true.

To get into the spirit of the holiday, I had my son write a list of things that he is thankful for. I’m sure that this list is in part influenced by the fact that it is Sunday and I’m sure that at some point in primary today they talked about Thanksgiving and being thankful. I played with worrdle a bit to make a fun graphic of his list. To be safe, here is his list, in order:

  1. Cheese
  2. Cows
  3. Moms
  4. Dads
  5. Sisters
  6. Cars
  7. Electronics
  8. Food
  9. Jesus
  10. God
  11. Cheese Cake
  12. Water
  13. Animals
  14. Fish
  15. Phones
  16. Computers

Yes. You read that right. Cheese is the first thing that he thought of when he made his list. This is above computers, and Jesus, and Moms. Cheese. And cows because you can’t have cheese without cows. That is the mind of a 10 year old for you. He makes me laugh.

Wordle: I am thankful for

Zion

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I do love going out and about with my children. And the area I live in is bursting with fun outdoor activities. Recently I took my kids over to Zion National Park, because I could basically, and enjoyed every minute of it. We went on only one hike, but that was fine. We just enjoyed time together. I also like to write, which isn’t really a surprise considering that I’m writing this now. However, I recently entered a kind of fun writing challenge with a brief entry on my most recent trip to Zion and I thought I’d share that here.

I love the way the sun shines on the red rocks of the valley. I can’t see it from here, but I know that the arch below me is catching the light and highlighting the way the shadows play in it’s depths. As my children run on the rocks a few hundred feet off the ground I try not to look at how close they get to the edge. The fence is only at the flat place between the two sides of the mountain, and even that doesn’t seem like it would stop a six year old running full steam. I take a deep breath and try to find the windows in the side of the mountain near us. I know that tunnel, the number of times I’ve driven through it I should know where all the windows are, but I’m not used to looking at it from this angle and I can only find two of them. It’s getting hot and I want to move to the shade. I look once more at the breathtaking views and call for the children to hurry and take one more picture before we head back to the car.

Of Blankies and Memories

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My daughter has this blanket, we call it Blankie, that has been with her since she was born. I don’t know when it is exactly that she became so attached to it, but she has. She is six now, and if I’d let her I’m pretty sure that she would take it to school with her. I call her my Linus baby because she sucks her thumb and carried her blanket with her almost where ever she goes.

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Like this, but with long blond hair and a multicolored blanket

Her blanket has been worn through, more than once. When it got to the point that we could no longer sew it back together, my mother and I sat down to make a “sleeping bag” for Blankie. I took Boo to the fabric store and let her and Blankie pick out the fabric that she wanted. We ended up with two different fabrics, one blue with cartoon cat faces in circles all over it, the other white with pink roses. She even picked the binding and the yarn with which to tie it. We spent all afternoon one Saturday when she was about three and a half sewing Blankie into a new covering.

That night, when it came time for bed she asked to have Blankie taken back out. When I told her I couldn’t take Blankie out she started throwing a fit. She told me that I had “Killed Blankie!” and was inconsolable for the better part of the evening. I finally ended up cutting a whole in one fo the corners so that she could still feel and see that Blankie was indeed there.

I still have issues on whether I should laugh at the whole thing (killing Blankie) or if I should cry for causing such heart ache and pain for my baby girl. Honestly, it depends on the day.

Shortly before this incident she had gone to visit her dad and had accidentally left Blankie at grandmas house when they left. It took almost a week to get it back. That was not a pleasant time. She was crying and moaning and checking the mail every day to see if Blankie had come. It was heart breaking to watch. And I’m sure very stressful for her.

We are well on our way to wearing out Blankie’s new coverings, the fabric is wearing thin around the binding and in the places where my daughter rubs it, and I don’t know that we will ever get it completely clean. Lately she has taken to calling the washer “evil” and saying that Blankie doesn’t want a bath. This has helped in keeping Blankie from wearing down as quickly as she is more careful about getting “her” near sources of dirt, like the egg dye from Easter and dragging behind her on the scooter.

At times I wonder if I’ve been a bit too lax with Blankie, but then I think, she’s happy, it’s not hurting anything. And, tucked in a box in my closet is an old purple and white check blanket that still smells of cabbage patch doll and sunshine that I loved very much as a little girl. And it makes me smile.

Smells Like Teen Spirit

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Cup of Noodles smell like my senior year of high school. The science teacher sold cup of noodles and Grandmas cookies and other easy things, out of his office as a fundraiser for the students in his biochem class so that we (yes, I was in that class) could go to Yosemite National Park in the winter. I would get them to eat all the time. You bought the cup of noodle and then filled it up with hot water that he kept in one of those really large percolator type coffee makers that you see at school functions. Every time I have a cup of noodle I think about sitting in the physics classroom (which was next door to the biochem classroom, and had a slightly nicer teacher) with my friends, or in my old math classroom with the same group of friends (it depended on the day of the week where we ate lunch). I can still smell the sent of white board markers and new trailer (because our science building was being rebuilt after a fire). I can still remember laughing with my friends over stupid things. I smell cup of noodles and remember those times.