tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3278446854117141272024-02-19T01:57:57.962-08:00Sepulveda Blvd.The place where I come to park all ramblings and goings on in my head...Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.comBlogger134125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-10493071808220432342013-05-02T15:06:00.000-07:002013-05-02T21:31:16.400-07:00Honesty: From the Inside OutI was inspired to write this post after reading <a href="http://thumbcramps.tumblr.com/post/48976513908/hi-guys-this-is-a-comic-i-made-for-a-final-in-my">this</a> and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=628161277198064&set=a.229512283729634.74014.226109890736540&type=1&theater">this</a> in my geek group on Facebook the last two days.<br />
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My whole life, I was taught that beauty comes from the inside out. That what we see at face value has very little to do with what goodness lies within. My mother worked very hard to instill these things within ALL her children.<br />
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Growing up as the youngest, tiny child in a family who all struggled with their weight, I didn't really see those things because they loved me, held me, protected me, and showered me with everything. I was by far the most spoiled in our family.<br />
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I never struggled with weight and was always in some sort of dance or gymnastics class from the time I was three. I had a knack for it. I lived in front of a mirror <i>all the time</i>. My mother bent over backwards to make sure I was able to spend my time in dance, costumes, make-up and performing. It never really seemed like enough because I lived for the adrenalin rush of pushing myself to be the best, learning new stage make-up techniques, soaking up the spotlight on stage.<br />
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I started to notice weight in 3rd grade because of a girl in my class. She was big. I never thought about it really, until she started to pick on me and push me around. My mother made me beautiful clothes, upcycled or from scratch. I loved what she made me because it couldn't be found in stores. It made me unique. But this big girl made me look harder at myself. I was the poor girl in small private school. I was different. Perhaps even ugly.<br />
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I took it all in and held it inside because being so little, I didn't know what I was feeling could eventually become self-destructive. I went to 4 more years at that private school with no friends and was constantly inventing new excuses to stay home because I was afraid of the backlash I felt from the students and even from my fifth grade teacher, who spent most of her days taking all her anger and frustration with the entire class, out on me. I almost never went to school that entire year.<br />
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As I went to junior high, an entirely new dynamic of judgement entered my life. You all know it, the "Wow, I don't dress right, that girl is wearing the same thing as me but looks better, why do I get out of bed if I look so ugly" stage.<br />
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I was a flower child. My 6th grade year was the time of 70s fashion revival. The swishy sundresses with neon flowers, the bell bottoms, the leather headbands and stacks (shoes). I spent HOURS at the mall with my mother on the rare nights and weekends I didn't have dance. I LOVED it because I fit everything. EVERYTHING. And it gave me time to be with my mom and not have to think about the things at school or my own body image because I could try on things I really loved to wear and there was no one to tell me that it wasn't "cool" or "right".<br />
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Then in seventh grade, I got really, really, sick in November shortly before Thanksgiving break. I lost 20 pounds in about two weeks. At my doctor's appointment, I weighed in a a whopping 72 pounds and I was 12 years old. I was super freaked out. I knew that wasn't healthy.<br />
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I was unsatisfied with how I looked because none of my clothes fit me anymore. For the remainder of the year, I wore a satin blue button down shirt, a Wonder Bra to fill it out, a pair of baggy secondhand jeans, and my older sister's blue and green plaid long sleeved shirt wrapped around my waist. I hid behind my blond, waist length hair even more than I did in sixth grade. I think I was trying to disappear from reality.<br />
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Over the next year or so I became more evened out with my weight again, but now I was living with my dad. I don't know if either of them realized it, but every time his new wife would take me shopping, she tried to force me into her daughters' mold. I did not look like them, I did not act like them, I did not dress like them. We had totally different body types. I was in every sense of the word DIFFERENT, from them. Eventually by the time I reached the middle of my freshman year, they realized that I wasn't wearing anything they bought unless I chose it 100% for myself.<br />
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Throughout this period, I still spent nearly everyday in dance clothes in front of a mirror. I loved my body. I spent so much time teaching it to do what I willed it to do in those classes. I was told by my dance teachers I could go all the way. I had "it", which made me love my body more. My steady boyfriend was even thinner than I was because he was cross country runner. There were times I felt huge compared to him, but mostly my curves along next to his thin frame made me feel <i>more</i> beautiful and womanly because women are supposed to be that way, right?<br />
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But at school, it was different. Society teaches us women to be self-deprecating and to talk down about our selves because if we have the audacity to speak positively about ourselves, especially our bodies, we are rude, self-centered, and stuck-up. So I would talk about my dress size and speak down about myself and laugh and say I wish I was a size 2 instead of a 4 and that my hips were too big, or my breasts were too small, or my bubble butt was annoying, and on and on and on. Never mind the fact I didn't really feel these things about myself, most of the time.<br />
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But as I fell more in love with my body and what I could do with it, I noticed more and more the things within my family and the issues with their weight as well as my friends and without realizing it, became caustic and silently hateful of them because of it. Never mind the slew of health issues they all had to deal with.<br />
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I broke 110 lbs. my junior year. I felt awesome because it was all toned and trained muscle, but weird because I no longer fit into my size 4 jeans. I wore size 7. My dance partners struggled to lift me above their heads and constantly dropped me. I started to worry I wasn't what I needed to be for them. Perhaps I needed to drop some weight.<br />
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My senior year, I moved back in with my mom to a new school where I knew no one. Two weeks into school (and due to start a brand new ballet studio the following week) I was on my way to lunch with a new friend when we were in a rear end collision. As I was looking down to buckle my seat belt just a block from the high school parking lot, a moth flew up in my friend's face and we slammed into the back end of a stopped car waiting to turn onto a cross street. My seat belt never clicked into place and my head slammed into the windshield, creating a spider crack, much like a bowling ball would.<br />
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I'll omit all the painful details, but by the time things were over, I learned that I had a two severely injured disks in my neck just above my should blades and my physical therapist told me I should never dance again. To say I was devastated would be the<i> biggest understatement of my life</i>.<br />
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I went to therapy. But I still went back to dance. Twice. I wasn't ready to let go. More than the physical pain, was the denial that I would never be able to dance again. It's what I wanted to do with my life. Everything in me was built to be a dancer. I was crushed. I eventually suffered a breakdown and was put on an anti-depressant that made me gain 20 lbs. in two weeks.<br />
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At the age of 18 when most girls bodies are starting to change into womanhood, my body bolted from 120 to 140 like a lightening bolt. More devastation. I eventually dropped out of school because the physical and emotionally pain I was going through was too much for me to know how to handle. I watched my high school graduation loom in front of me. I forced myself back into school to be able to eek out graduation, only to be failed by the English teacher who refused to believe I wrote an extra 5 pages on my Senior thesis just because I wasn't in her AP English class. She didn't believe that I could write that well without being put in an advanced class. So with only one trimester left of school, without that English class, it meant I couldn't graduate, so I failed several other classes because I stopped trying. And my weight continued to climb.<br />
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Not to be run down, I pulled myself up and went back to school the following autumn for a 5th year of high school. Two weeks to the year of my car accident, I was on my way to my first hour class when a woman ran a stop sign and slammed into my car, sending me spinning 180 degrees. That was September.<br />
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I went back to therapy. I dropped out of school to deal with the emotional and physical mess I was in. I went back on anti-depressants to deal with it. I gained more weight.<br />
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The following February, I was in a friend's car, on my way to school to register for the last trimester of school. It was pouring ice cold rain and we were pulling up to a stoplight just off the freeway. We never stopped. I watched as he slammed on his breaks and we slid right through the light at 55 miles an hour, catching the back left corner bumper of a van coming off the freeway. Slow motion. By the time we stopped spinning, I was aware of searing pain running through my neck and shoulders. We went to urgent care.<br />
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X-rays revealed that the injured disks from my first accident were not injured anymore, they had fused from the impact and injury resulting from more than one accident. And not only that, I had fused disks in my lower back and massive muscle swelling in my left shoulder. I was given a neck brace, a written prescription for narcotics and discharged.<br />
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I never filled that pain prescription. I still went over to my school to register for the last trimester of school and I went to to graduate and walk the line for my high school diploma all a week before my twentieth birthday.<br />
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College was a mess. (Cosmetology, another career where you spend your life in front of a mirror. Anyone else see the irony??) Weight up and down and all over, but I ended up slimming way down because of stress and I walked everywhere because I didn't own a car.<br />
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By the time I got married at 22, I was once again a size 4. The most painful day of my life was the day I got married. The weight of my dress, standing all day, my 8 lb. bouquet I was only able to hold for pictures, was placed next to the cake and forgotten about. The two day drive to our new home I spent with my husband was more pain than I can remember experiencing. When we'd stop for gas, he'd hold me while I cried.<br />
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After marriage, I learned to eat my feelings rather than take it out on dance, but I had no idea that's what I was doing. We found and amazing chiropractor would help me start healing over the course of the last nearly 7 years. I learned from my chiropractor the worst thing I could've done was quit dance because it would've kept my muscles and spine flexible and may have helped my disks from fusing together. More devastation. More anger. More antidepressants. More weight gain.<br />
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Then I had two babies, whom I love more than anything in this world. More weight gain. I hated myself. I beat myself up.<br />
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But over the last few months, I've started to discover how to love myself, take care of myself, be myself. My new self. I can create and mold and shape my life in new ways. It doesn't have to be spent in front of a mirror. I realized that even though I was in serious pain and still deal with pain everyday, I have enough wherewithal to do it all without drugs. No prescription pills and no OTC drugs for the most part either. I do have my bad days, but I've been given the strength to make it through.<br />
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My point I'm getting at is this~ I spent a LOT of time judging people on their size without realizing it. I spent a LOT of time judging <i>myself</i> on my size. I spent YEARS hating my genes and the fact I have a predisposition to be a certain shape.<br />
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But we all have own own journeys. People are all at various stages of their lives. Some people may have more health issues than others.<br />
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WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING ON UNDER THE SURFACE OF PEOPLE'S LIVES TO JUDGE SO QUICKLY.<br />
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I can't promise I'll never judge people based on their appearance. But I CAN promise that I'll try to be more understanding about those things. We all have our own private hell we endure. I can promise I will be more loving and understanding. Because I've been on that scale. I know the hurt from every side.<br />
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It's time to stop judging yourself for what you THINK you should look like and loving yourself for who <u>you</u> are ARE and <u>your</u> AMAZING abilities you DO have.<br />
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I have a lot to offer. I learned that a lot of the girls I work with in youth group actually love me. A LOT. And it's not because I just lost a dress size or because I'm a principle dancer in the NYC Ballet Company. It's because I'm me.<br />
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BE YOU.<br />
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Whatever negative thing you're telling yourself in the mirror when you see yourself, STOP IT. The most positive words you'll hear in your life come from INSIDE YOU. If you're constantly beating yourself up, you'll never heal.<br />
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The more you spoon feed that you inside with goodness and love, the more YOU you'll become. The more YOU you'll discover. Just like that quote from Dr. Suess:<br />
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"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You."</blockquote>
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Become the "youer" you. </blockquote>
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<br />Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-31834595095832388322012-09-25T12:46:00.000-07:002012-09-27T19:37:01.903-07:00To Thine Own Self Be TrueAfter a random conversation with my dear,dear friend Mary, she told me about an article she read. She said that "women don't ever speak positive about themselves because it's socially unacceptable." We seem to think as a society that giving ourselves credit for the things we do well is wrong. Well, how <i>wrong</i> it that??!<br />
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Ever since that conversation 3 weeks ago, I've been thinking a LOT about it and beating myself up (as usual) for the things I<i> don't </i>do, but I know that I <i>can </i>do but can't seem to figure out how to work into my life with two very busy kids.<br />
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But I'm tired of seeing my friends do thing that<i> *I* </i>love and can do for myself, but just can't seem to find the time for. I often think of myself as someone who is capable of anything, but can do so many things only mediocre and I'm not proficient enough to call myself great at just one thing. Backward way of thing? Yes.<br />
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So I'm going to toot my own horn. I'm going to list the qualities that I secretly love about myself and be ever so <i>thankful </i>that I've been blessed by God with and not be embarrassed or feel guilty about saying these.<br />
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My Awesome Qualities :<br />
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<u>Sewing</u>~ I can create a pattern out of my head and make it work. In fact, most of the time I DON'T use a pattern because it hinders me. Patterns easily confuse me. =P At this point in my life, I have yet to get back into it because I don't have a machine, but I am a good seamstress. Just don't ask me to make anything because I have no machine. But even after all that, I still prefer to hand sew. It's how I started. I love just sitting down and listening to a movie or music and sewing something by hand. It's incredibly soothing.<br />
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<u>Cooking</u>~ I am an awesome cook. Mary taught me that I can experiment and not worry about caring since, if it's terrible, you don't have to eat it or make it again. But if it's wonderful, write down what you put in it immediately so you don't forget when you want to make it again. Baking terrifies me, but I've never failed at anything I've made, so I don't know why I freak out so badly. It's not as if my husband is going to leave me if I mess up rolls or burn pumpkin bread. I need to start trying new things again once the weather cools down.<br />
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<u>Party Planner</u>~ I am a wicked hostess. I'm WAY into throwing parties and get-together's since we moved to a house. It allows me crazy creativity. There's something about it that makes my whole self come alive with excitement and tingles when I think about it. If I could do it for a living, I would.<br />
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<u>Scrapbooking</u>~ I have a milliondy things and pictures I have to catch up on and every time someone has a birthday, I get more and more behind. But, again, it allows my creative juices to flow. I love the idea of making things easier and going digital with those kinds of books, but I much prefer to make things by hand. I love making things, cutting things out, etc. all by hand. It gives a great sense of accomplishment when I see the spread I've created once it's done.<br />
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<u>Photography Ideas and Settings</u>~ Although I took a few photography classes in high school, I never really had the knack for capturing exactly what I wanted about 98% of the time. But I discovered that I'm an extremely creative person when it comes to making photography work; I can see things in my head the way I want them to work out, but I don't have the ability to capture it so I have to rely on people who have that talent to do that part. I'm also an incredible editor, something I learned and excelled in when I was in my classes. I think that comes with being an artist.<br />
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<u>Cosmetologist</u>~ Albeit it was something I was forced into and I really didn't have much of a desire to do it when I started, I discovered I have a special proficiency in what I do. It gives me great pleasure to help someone feel better and more confident about themselves. I'm getting pretty darn good with color, too. I think that trickles back to my art classes I took as a teenager. When I look at some one's hair, I get a flashback through all the color classes I took in art as well as in cos school. I see the color wheel almost immediately whenever I have someone in my chair. And actually, I LOVE giving pedicures. As relaxing as it is for the client, it's more so for me. Massage has a way of relaxing me when I do it for other people. I would have never believed in a million years something that I didn't want to become would be something that I really enjoy and gives me so much ability to create and learn from every time I do it. I mean, who wouldn't want to spend all day playing "Make Over"??<br />
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<u>Organizer</u>~ I take GREAT pride in my home. I've always had an incredible knack for organizing, but only recently have I figured out how to make it work for me in every aspect. I read this great article of how to organize your home and I cleaned and cleared out my house like a boss. My home is now ALWAYS clean. It might get cluttered with random piles of laundry or toys and trash might explode, but underneath all that, it's clean. The only thing that I need to do is a basic pick up. I now vacuum every morning, wash the dishes after every meal, and sweep every other day. If cleanliness is close to Godliness, I can personally attest to that because now that my home is always clean, I love my family more and worry less about messes because I know that it's not hard to clean up afterwards. There is nothing that can substitute a clean home for my level of sanity. No doubt about it, I'm a more loving mom when my house is clean. Are you seeing a theme here, because I am. I think I love to work with my hands. Very hands on type of person. =)<br />
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<u>Musician</u>~ I realize this is an incredible gift that I have been blessed with. But, only recently have I discovered how deep it goes. While talking to my mother last week, she told me that was I was really little while we were all at a concert, I covered my ears and said, "Mommy, make them stop. It's ugly and wrong." Apparently my ability for perfect pitch has been with me my entire life. I may not always have the ability to sing with perfect pitch (being tired, sick), but I always hear with perfect pitch. I admit I regret not staying closer to the piano, since I quit my junior year of high school after I learned to sight read all the hymns in the hymn book (parents requirement for quitting piano lessons) and I have a HUGE desire to start playing again.<br />
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<u>Mother</u>~ There are a million things I could say about what I need to change, since we are always our own critics, but I won't. I'll focus on the good. While talking to my really good Stacia during a very long color appointment, I confessed that I felt I was failing at motherhood. nearly crying, I choked back tears in how I thought how terrible of a mother I was. She laughed ans said, "Are you drinking, doing, drugs, leaving your children on the streets to fend for themselves? No? Then you're a good mother." Then she asked me what some things were that I do do as a mother with my children and I listed them off: I play with them for a solid hour everyday nearly everyday with no distractions, I've taught them to pick up after themselves with their toys and to put their dishes in the sink, I sit down with them for every meal, I bathe them every other day, I brush <i>and</i> floss their teeth every night (I sometimes forget in the morning), I help them say their individual morning and evening prayers, we always read the Book of Mormon together as a family before bed, we have family prayer together every morning and night, and I sing them each two Primary songs of their choice before I put them in bed every night unless I have a soar throat.<br />
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There are many more things I'm good at and capable of, I'm sure, but these are the things that come to mind. As a mortal being, there is much room for improvement, but we need to stop criticizing ourselves. God has said, "Love One Another" which, includes ourselves. We cannot hope to help another person strengthen themselves if we do not first strengthen ourselves, love ourselves. I want to love me. If I wasn't worth loving, i wouldn't know so many good people and have such amazing friends, right? The same thing goes for you.<br />
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I would LOVE to see each one of you who read this to make and post your own lists so that I can add to it. This world is hard enough without praising each other for what we excel in. let us take time to love and appreciate each other. And also, let us take time to say thank-you and not argue with those who took time to give you a compliment. it's just as important to tell someone thank-you for sharing their gift as it is to accept.<br />
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I look forward to reading your lists in the near future. =)<br />
<br />Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-54498951247080184892012-08-21T20:29:00.004-07:002012-08-21T20:37:10.676-07:00We Date Who We Marry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We often times get wrapped up in our everyday humdrum lives and it's easy to take for granted what brought us together in the first place. We repeat the same stories, jokes and punch lines, et cetera to each other and constantly tell one another these things until we think we'll turn blue in the face. But there are those certain brief moments that time stops and we can connect on that level we did while we were first dating and become that young couple again.
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We were sent out Saturday night without a curfew after a long and hot day at the beach with no shade by my parents who were visiting for a few days. Tired as could be, we tossed back and forth about where we should go since we're at the end of our summer money with just enough for food and a wee bit of gas. </div>
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As we were getting to the freeway, we passed Golf 'n Stuff, but it was packed more full than I've ever seen it and I had no patience to do more lines. I wanted to go to Knott's, since I've NEVER been there (even though I've lived in LA for nearly 6<i> years</i>), but of course that was<b> totally </b>out of the question. (Yes, I<i> now</i> realize there are lots and lots of line at Knott's, but remember I was<i> tired</i> and burnt to a crisp from all day at the beach.) We bantered back and forth and eventually decided to see a movie and ended up at the Long Beach Town Center. We got a decent parking place and walked past the fountains and splash pad to the Edwards 20 to see what was playing.</div>
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We looked at the marquee and narrowed it down to a 3, since we had no energy to stay awake through a movie that started later than 10 and over half the movies were rated R. I looked up one that I'd wanted to see on my phone and was shocked at the amount of indecent things that were talked about and we opted out on that one. Then I looked up that other two movies and we both agreed we didn't want to pay $12 a ticket to see anything. So we sat at the main fountain in front of the theater and enjoyed the cool air trying to figure out what to do, since I couldn't be out that late since I had to sing for church the next morning. </div>
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I decided to hit up Ben and Jerry's since I knew that they serve frozen yogurt and smoothies. I ended up getting a frozen strawberry lemonade and Lars got something sickeningly sweet like he always does. Then we started to head back toward the parking lot. I spotted an open bench in front of the waterfall fountain we passed on the way into the town center and we sat, chit chatting and laughing, just enjoying each other's company. I laughed at his jokes because for the first time in a long time, I honestly thought they were funny. It was hard to want to go home, so we sat for a little while longer before we headed back home. </div>
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I hate to say how often I forget to honestly just <i>BE </i>with my husband. It's hard when your life is completely wrapped around two very small children, one of which is in the midst of potty training and the other not far behind. I forget to like myself and end up turning it outwardly to him thinking he'll think the same about me that I do, but he never does. And in this moment, you can honestly see that we were just happy to be together, loving one another. Tired as all get out, but more happy than I've been just to "<i>be</i>" in I can't remember how long. </div>
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I really love this man and I need to start trying to like myself again so that I have enough emotional support under me to pass it on to him, because no one loves me more than him. No one. </div>
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<br />Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-73960084377427295292012-05-11T21:09:00.003-07:002012-05-11T21:09:50.633-07:00Rock the BoatIt's been a looooong time since I've posted. Let's face it, blogging just stopped being important since I started to write in a real journal awhile back. But I haven't and things are simply just busy and life is happening and time is sliding by without me noticing.<br />
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But tonight I'm full of emotions and just need some feedback, maybe to know that I'm a normal 20-something mom/woman and I haven't lost it.<br />
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I've been cleaning house like crazy the since yesterday and then my mother-in-law took both my son and daughter over night for a gift to me for Mother's Day. Needless to say, rather than turn in early to catch up on sleep since we're at a battle of wills with the baby concerning any type of sleep, I was buzzing from cleaning endorphins. Then when I finally lied sown for the night shortly after midnight, I couldn't sleep. All I could think about was the fact that the kids' doors were open and through the doors their curtains were open because I didn't close anything since they didn't go to their beds to sleep. I just kept thinking about how they were both away from me.<br />
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Now, to make things a little bit more clear, my husband and I started to watch reruns of The Wonder Years on our Netflix account and while I was overhauling the kitchen yesterday, I listened/watched to about 5 HOURS of the show. Today was much of the same thing, I overhauled the house, folded, sorted, ironed, and put away laundry to the voice of Daniel Stern's ever familiar voice portraying the adult Kevin Arnold. Now if you've ever watched this show as an adult, the things you thought were super funny as a kid, well they are still ever so funny, but the deeper meanings that are played upon actually make sense being well out of high school and college. Which brings me to what I've been thinking about.<br />
<br />
Personal Pressure.<br />
<br />
Many of my friends are pregnant again, most of them with their third children. And somehow, I feel like I'm missing out. I feel as though I should be on that baby wagon heading east, or west, or whatever. I feel like I NEED to be having another baby.<br />
<br />
But I don't want one.<br />
<br />
I had a scare last month when my period was 10 days late, which has NEVER happened since my period regulated after I got off birth control before I had my son nearly 4 years ago. My period happened ON TIME. And intimate moments just weren't happening due to the invasion of a daughter who woke up her brother when she came into our room, or vice versa. The fact I was late didn't add up. So I took 3 tests (like always~ two you could have a false positive, but 3 can knock either false positive of negative out) and just as I had accepted the fact that I was going to be a mom of 3 (after days, hours, milliseconds of anger and hosility toward this possible unborn child) I checked and they were all negative.<br />
<br />
I was happy, right? I mean, I'd been angry and up in arms about what to do with another child when I had SO much to do to be ready to accept and be ready for another child into my heart, arms, home, and family. But the fact was, was I was crushed. Devastated. I had already *just* decided and let the glimmer of excitement (and dreading the physically if carrying another baby without losing weight first) of another baby slip in under the radar undetected and the not-quite-real loss of it all hit me quite literally like a tether ball square in the chest.<br />
<br />
The fact is, I'm not ready. I'm having many unexplained health problems that I need to get worked out (don't get me started), my kids are both going through their own power struggles as they learn and I try to teach them their independence (not to mention a million other things) and they're just about all I can handle. Strike that. They are ALL I can handle. So why is it that I feel so lost? Why do I feel like I'm being left behind? I don't want another child. And I feel a wall in my emotions about it. There simply is No room No time in my life now for another child.<br />
<br />
But when I think about 3 weeks ago and the lost-that-never-was, I feel ever so sad and teary-eyed for something I'm not sure how to put into words and it's hard to quell the emotion that rises in my chest and the lump that forms in my throat because of it. I lost something. But I kept something as well. And with both, I'm clearly depressed and confused. Actually, I don't even remember what I was going to ask in the first place.<br />
<br />
I guess it's just been so long and I've been so busy holding on so tightly to so many deep emotions that I just needed a place to unload. It's a hard uphill road doing it by yourself, keeping ahold of those heavyset emotions, and right now it's simply too much. I'm sad and tired and weighed down. So I'm leaving these things here. Please be kind if you choose to respond. I have so much I'm feeling and dealing with already and I'm likely to tip and spill if you rock the boat too much.Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-57454088515579022192011-06-11T19:38:00.000-07:002011-06-11T19:42:27.042-07:00The Perfect PosyIt's that time again! I'm making a post about a give away! My girlfriend Mary is an incredibly talented SAHM and this is her business. She's hosting a give away on her blog which is linked to her Facebook business page!<br /><br /><br />Blog link:<br /><a href="http://theperfectposyforyou.blogspot.com/2011/06/summer-giveaway-starts-today.html">http://theperfectposyforyou.blogspot.com/2011/06/summer-giveaway-starts-today.html</a><br /><br />Facebook link:<br /><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/ThePerfectPosy">https://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/ThePerfectPosy</a>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-69698484460742090412011-05-25T13:09:00.001-07:002011-05-25T23:37:01.604-07:00New BusinessHey y'all! After 5 years of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">licensure</span> in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">the</span> state of Idaho, I've decided to go into the business I went to college for. My business page on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Facebook</span> is call <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Sepulveda</span> Cosmetology and I'm working on putting up a blog under the same name, so watch for the link! I'm super excited and have started the long process of paperwork to becomes officially licensed out here in California, so more than likely i should be licenced by the end of summer or start of fall this year!!<br /><br />To spread the word as favor to me, please "like" my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Facebook</span> page in the upper corner of this blog, or post this URL into your status. Thanks! I'm looking forward to posting new photos as my business grows!Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-51445264557203163012011-04-15T13:34:00.000-07:002011-04-15T13:38:29.243-07:00Give Away!If I didn't have to to repost this for more options on winning, It keeps the number down in the pot so there's less competition. Call me selfish. But I REALLY want to win this and you will too after going to this blog- <a href="http://www.infarrantlycreative.net/2011/04/the-original-scrapbox-sewing-box-giveaway.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+InfarrantlyCreative+%28infarrantly+creative%29">http://www.infarrantlycreative.net/2011/04/the-original-scrapbox-sewing-box-giveaway.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+InfarrantlyCreative+%28infarrantly+creative%29</a> Seriously, any woman who has even tehremotest creativity in her wouldwant one of these things!!Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-36899296135568205792011-02-14T23:25:00.001-08:002011-02-14T23:36:38.057-08:00Valentine...<div align="center">You're my best friend...</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwjumWsXZYOf8Rq-Ky7ZrpvSh-jyIQbaEoeLxMwZUO9U2xJ2AH67PvXloxsJeo1rlndNOBcOWadQe6R6nLNktJER_wiESAAotgikBhir2gENsEryIghCjShsMVqPXZWMKjHRZ1GbXm94k/s1600/13.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573815154331764258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwjumWsXZYOf8Rq-Ky7ZrpvSh-jyIQbaEoeLxMwZUO9U2xJ2AH67PvXloxsJeo1rlndNOBcOWadQe6R6nLNktJER_wiESAAotgikBhir2gENsEryIghCjShsMVqPXZWMKjHRZ1GbXm94k/s400/13.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> ... my lover...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhrJiaVE206YhOlQKLLTQHaZWXOD2AxbTqG6_WjmQ8ZLoslOP9h7XIA6QYUq2eD_A4aCvi4kC4w1wUeNvfwzdtcyNFnkKSy3kQvssaQIHSOBl_QE6fMeCPYoJjLHBAMPARixnX0iFSJgw/s1600/14.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573815148407568514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhrJiaVE206YhOlQKLLTQHaZWXOD2AxbTqG6_WjmQ8ZLoslOP9h7XIA6QYUq2eD_A4aCvi4kC4w1wUeNvfwzdtcyNFnkKSy3kQvssaQIHSOBl_QE6fMeCPYoJjLHBAMPARixnX0iFSJgw/s400/14.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />... together we create...<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWX-2WuIaJHWR2igbYoUgvse8hqf1EiJlkyulLGS62SQHwYQ5FN9TEudQBDJOi1ITaIagPYxU6CoGgv3iE1S2ZKs4_QzF5SXl_FNUC6uujUvJI2oLcexNnMJ5pmh_xLtioRtVk_yATccM/s1600/Best+Friends.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573815128984196050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWX-2WuIaJHWR2igbYoUgvse8hqf1EiJlkyulLGS62SQHwYQ5FN9TEudQBDJOi1ITaIagPYxU6CoGgv3iE1S2ZKs4_QzF5SXl_FNUC6uujUvJI2oLcexNnMJ5pmh_xLtioRtVk_yATccM/s400/Best+Friends.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />...and become so much more!<br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZ8TvTIs-6Byw50ZqvhawBuGtllFTWoxYN-qmESpWKd55PwakY4KMTDZglnXD87J-uHoaHZIQuVTSU2iSYKsYRHmSkWAvaf6u6NjeGS37OgnhtdoJW4oZDxqS9jcU1hZJyw37TieY7SQ/s1600/Valentine+Family+2011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573815124751467554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 327px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZ8TvTIs-6Byw50ZqvhawBuGtllFTWoxYN-qmESpWKd55PwakY4KMTDZglnXD87J-uHoaHZIQuVTSU2iSYKsYRHmSkWAvaf6u6NjeGS37OgnhtdoJW4oZDxqS9jcU1hZJyw37TieY7SQ/s400/Valentine+Family+2011.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Happy Valentine's to the most amazing person I've ever known. You make me a better person just by being with me. I love you, Larry.<br /><div></div></div></div><br /></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-56728636019664871262011-02-01T21:59:00.000-08:002011-02-01T23:36:01.078-08:00Bignormous Day!My wonderful husband took the day off work to catch up on some very important things for his continuing credential project to keep his job, and he took Jonnie to get his first haircut with his barber (when I'm crunched for time.. and my clippers<em> finally</em> died).<br /><br /><div align="left">Dave (the barber) asked me how long I wanted it and I told him long enough to to a small fauxhawk. A FAUXhawk. NOT A REAL MOHAWK. Right as I realized that Dave completely didn't know what the heck I refered to, he took that initial chunk out right on the top edge and created a horrendous divot. My insides clutched and turned over. This guy was <em>old school</em>. I mean, who in the heck in the hair world <strong><em>doesn't</em></strong> know what a fauxhawk is??!</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Before</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4C5C2G-8JabnwTWzGkd_vVzV2k9Q4ecLFjicmj73VF0rL-3QhGuXd5dPztGG5EEX4r7GmfF2IB4OdEwa3doLnWdMG_0Zb92sMEsHskFhCnpj67730tbVcHUqn66x9CxUxUeDpJWL0c0E/s1600/IMG_1656.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568981640063612114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4C5C2G-8JabnwTWzGkd_vVzV2k9Q4ecLFjicmj73VF0rL-3QhGuXd5dPztGG5EEX4r7GmfF2IB4OdEwa3doLnWdMG_0Zb92sMEsHskFhCnpj67730tbVcHUqn66x9CxUxUeDpJWL0c0E/s400/IMG_1656.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">During... (Notice my face... NOT happy!)</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCG6rkwPzisC4HfX-eetvInW4-evW8kRJCtCLeIm7ZjoM84neUxKDrYYr6QtULKL8UhFL1xciknQWPlNiq6pMpQuCNA9mbbCLOEx6HRwtI5Q7sX4iUQM3gxJRpA985FQkLq1Yzyhapm3c/s1600/IMG_1657.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568981632706025938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCG6rkwPzisC4HfX-eetvInW4-evW8kRJCtCLeIm7ZjoM84neUxKDrYYr6QtULKL8UhFL1xciknQWPlNiq6pMpQuCNA9mbbCLOEx6HRwtI5Q7sX4iUQM3gxJRpA985FQkLq1Yzyhapm3c/s400/IMG_1657.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />During...<br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgBHs8vog-NoJ4X01d-C54LNfjh_ino4KxAceFkbpanqDTGherf_fl-03W1iwQ45zwVSg85VQf_gZPzGGDv0VoupcNKxWijxGmtnF-wCwZgJesVN4rve0Ejr-MNyAAFv-epP7RZzXovU/s1600/IMG_1658.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568981630696105378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgBHs8vog-NoJ4X01d-C54LNfjh_ino4KxAceFkbpanqDTGherf_fl-03W1iwQ45zwVSg85VQf_gZPzGGDv0VoupcNKxWijxGmtnF-wCwZgJesVN4rve0Ejr-MNyAAFv-epP7RZzXovU/s400/IMG_1658.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="left">Needless to say, Jonathan calmed down afterward and got a cute little certificate for his first haircut. I had to clean up some messy spots with my scissors once we got home, since it was so badly done and we actually ended up going and buying a really cheap set of clippers until I can get back home and buy a good set for wholesale with my Cos. license, but all in all, Dave offered me a<strong><em> JOB! </em></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="left"><strong><em>WHAT??!?</em></strong> Yeah, that's right. He has this sweet little set up in his back room for a single stylist and he's known Lars since long before we met (5 years ago next month) and knows that I'm a cos girl. I'm actually looking into it! So possibly coming soon~ Crazy Lady to work part-time on my lonesome and have my own hours and still have time to be with my babies!... but we'll see. Dave said he'd wait and see if I could figure out reciprocity and licensure and all that, so maybe it could happen. If it's booth rent, forget it. My cos girls, you know what that's all about. For me, it doesn't jive with my lifestyle. </div><br />After!<br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fkFGWihedDPugCWE1RpgOrgt3Rs4pqrARw0AS4vCyRUOxZpo8Nlcp8ltNDSl-kn0zCUCTA-HaIwUEsErp7NQsX1OTlXc20rZ-w0531N_NwOlpip9veKC9ACH-s6NrgIZoyjXUaFzV2I/s1600/IMG_1660.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568981621936678482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fkFGWihedDPugCWE1RpgOrgt3Rs4pqrARw0AS4vCyRUOxZpo8Nlcp8ltNDSl-kn0zCUCTA-HaIwUEsErp7NQsX1OTlXc20rZ-w0531N_NwOlpip9veKC9ACH-s6NrgIZoyjXUaFzV2I/s400/IMG_1660.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Avonlea slept like a baby (har, har) while Jonnie screamed and wailed through his haircut and woke up just in time to get to the mall for her special time of the day. Jonnie wanted to ride shotgun, which it was the very first time and he just put himself in there, and since Avonlea is just barely big enough to ride in back, I figured why not.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7lh5QeUD-6y-PjSbJvP_nNWKcJGANLMdY1OXz54mk5rrw8T3zc5iIz26z9AuRzQNvJjD3pOBxQnS6vu7fZ_kB6zEIZ0djFAHfX6YjCtNz8fjHaf7UpWeEzw0v_DVdJMfVL3ZRVbdC6M/s1600/IMG_1661.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568981617304728866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7lh5QeUD-6y-PjSbJvP_nNWKcJGANLMdY1OXz54mk5rrw8T3zc5iIz26z9AuRzQNvJjD3pOBxQnS6vu7fZ_kB6zEIZ0djFAHfX6YjCtNz8fjHaf7UpWeEzw0v_DVdJMfVL3ZRVbdC6M/s400/IMG_1661.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">Hi from shotgun!<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxjfekxmhxjZ3KeFa_BN4M58pGArD3wA_oHjTceXfcKQ2f9wld00TutWEgH5ZQxN1ftpfWXRBGZdocBmQJoj9ZW7HfuAwxCqoeC-5xGXdxTEi-ehqXvde-1rfKjIZ8MBVzm34l7xFf7w/s1600/IMG_1662.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568979750494753922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxjfekxmhxjZ3KeFa_BN4M58pGArD3wA_oHjTceXfcKQ2f9wld00TutWEgH5ZQxN1ftpfWXRBGZdocBmQJoj9ZW7HfuAwxCqoeC-5xGXdxTEi-ehqXvde-1rfKjIZ8MBVzm34l7xFf7w/s400/IMG_1662.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />When we walked in, there's little satellite fudge shoppe called Kelly's and we let Jonnie pick out his own treat~ a fudge and rainbow sprinkle marshmallow stick for being such a trooper.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZO-utjYxW-ri7fgi1soPGDUj_XQqoquhwzvsQMFobHPzN2YDyEG1m4U00DZJbi6VD9z5zfwOmXZa9hyphenhyphenee5AQnF-f7qoNVZs0n5FXT2Yr-qsnSjaFkqJF1HZxiBDg4WcrtssamF5Ht7gI/s1600/IMG_1663.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568979738621943970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZO-utjYxW-ri7fgi1soPGDUj_XQqoquhwzvsQMFobHPzN2YDyEG1m4U00DZJbi6VD9z5zfwOmXZa9hyphenhyphenee5AQnF-f7qoNVZs0n5FXT2Yr-qsnSjaFkqJF1HZxiBDg4WcrtssamF5Ht7gI/s400/IMG_1663.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Lars had to keep Jonathan occupied while I held Avonlea for her piercing. She was<strong><em> such</em></strong> an angel. Cried a bit with the first ear, wailed and shrieked for a bit with the second, but was quickly diverted when we walked through Claire's to the register to pay for everything. She loved the shiny jewelery and reached for <em>everything.</em> She's such a girl! </div><div> </div><div align="center">Outside immediately afterward, happy as a clam.<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12PmRuPHRfeKX7TKpK-fBNyCkobjDW986ij5gpvMJO38GM9v_U2SzpfYEEm4YXg_I6223eezdbNv3ql6xfmG0ajamCerh1bxb4aOxqJol0OUcRC9KUSiLb_zGq10rytz39zYL_PpVkZk/s1600/IMG_1664.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568979734854594146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12PmRuPHRfeKX7TKpK-fBNyCkobjDW986ij5gpvMJO38GM9v_U2SzpfYEEm4YXg_I6223eezdbNv3ql6xfmG0ajamCerh1bxb4aOxqJol0OUcRC9KUSiLb_zGq10rytz39zYL_PpVkZk/s400/IMG_1664.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="center">Right ear<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtGJWTdFk6FWiGguSpXM5F2eaOmJ9m4gR2kRw-g3LmXteomgssWVTs1_FF-1MjMaJTuZjIFfbM1FpsjaVGSP1x7tPnvOZ9sN8N8uceUN2WZXN2Pj85aG-JelBu1PvT13wz37AJB5IW9M/s1600/IMG_1665.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568979733975622834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtGJWTdFk6FWiGguSpXM5F2eaOmJ9m4gR2kRw-g3LmXteomgssWVTs1_FF-1MjMaJTuZjIFfbM1FpsjaVGSP1x7tPnvOZ9sN8N8uceUN2WZXN2Pj85aG-JelBu1PvT13wz37AJB5IW9M/s400/IMG_1665.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="center">Left ear<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SjTkjNONyIu2zfiGSDQtzJ_s2WXX4d1V4zhpBkahnHDpMR6tgpWGLZxaiqSie_pha-_yBnBBtAMJ4NsW6SQSVd3oq40hSyF8ZsR7R4wTyKcuZGj9ZyrrF1CkdjgJ2nJ23944FNiKH28/s1600/IMG_1666.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568979722572062834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SjTkjNONyIu2zfiGSDQtzJ_s2WXX4d1V4zhpBkahnHDpMR6tgpWGLZxaiqSie_pha-_yBnBBtAMJ4NsW6SQSVd3oq40hSyF8ZsR7R4wTyKcuZGj9ZyrrF1CkdjgJ2nJ23944FNiKH28/s400/IMG_1666.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left">I can't say I'm not super sad about her getting her ears pierced, but she looks sooooo beautiful! Very much like a traditional Latina baby. Her smiling little face with her perfect caramel skin and her black-brown eyes just fit perfectly in between her white gold studded ears! I am however super glad I waited until she was six months to do it!</div></div></div><br /></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-13796925014446608052011-01-28T23:16:00.000-08:002011-01-28T23:25:41.901-08:00Sometimes You Just Have To...... sleep on your face. X)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0IR4NLTfyrJ4gypTDx0F7h80mmtJgf1XO8EAzxJAWhhR3ayT011BXr92fHN4vjglAsCmcF1_oKByh7EIEm6Fra4b4-AKqJYLlT8K0PwPWHIfZ1XNg3mVgcAsCX_2nMGsc5Nb-4puBoo/s1600/IMG_1643.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567504753408716418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0IR4NLTfyrJ4gypTDx0F7h80mmtJgf1XO8EAzxJAWhhR3ayT011BXr92fHN4vjglAsCmcF1_oKByh7EIEm6Fra4b4-AKqJYLlT8K0PwPWHIfZ1XNg3mVgcAsCX_2nMGsc5Nb-4puBoo/s400/IMG_1643.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJk-0f6vuGZCui9l5d6joApF26ldFpvo00QNDqdAZPk7QSGOjR2zQFgcAmjiRExBFod31Kf2S78czIxPM3lJJmcOTwPL9KvgpSDGx35ePjaoG1-vY4Y24y6GH_iHFqpu4xGplQp08qcI/s1600/IMG_1644.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567504744198814082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJk-0f6vuGZCui9l5d6joApF26ldFpvo00QNDqdAZPk7QSGOjR2zQFgcAmjiRExBFod31Kf2S78czIxPM3lJJmcOTwPL9KvgpSDGx35ePjaoG1-vY4Y24y6GH_iHFqpu4xGplQp08qcI/s400/IMG_1644.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-29027459535258642372011-01-25T10:46:00.001-08:002011-01-25T14:29:39.902-08:00Passes<span style="color:#ff0000;">WARNING</span><span style="color:#000099;">: This is a double marathon post. For those of you who perfer to just "walk out to the car" or "run around the block", this post is not for you. Best take it in small bursts or a full out run cross country run with deep breathing techniques and fight past the initial lung bursting air deprival that stops most people on their feet. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Ready? Deep breath and... GO!</span><br /><br /><br />For those of you who actually read my blog and have been wondering where the heck I've been hiding myself, here's what I've been up to the last few weekends. We have season passes to Disneyland and this January just happened to be Disney Parks Character Appreciation month, so we packed up EVERYTHING and when I say everything, I mean it~ breakfast, lunch, dinner, four-a-day snacks, water bottles, a change of clothes for both babies, pjs and nighttime diapers, 12 diapers for both kids, three blankets (one for each child and one to put over the double stroller when they go down for naptime), jackets for the four of us, sunscreen, umbrellas for the parents, Moby wrap and diaper backpack for Mom, mini diaper bag for Dad, and just about anything else you could think of. When we hit Disney, we're serious.<br /><br /><br />So during the slow season, there's been tons of construction, but the opportunity to meet the characters has been thrilling for me! Seeing Jonathan's face light up as well as the meltdowns, it's all been wonderful! The first set of pictures with Lars and Jonnie are from last Saturday the 15th. I was nursing Avonlea and the boys were on Main Street when the original characters swarmed out of the backstage gates.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">My husband, the goof.</div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9g05g2OSNHMSsMPffCBf4L0ZW9jqVjARc7PC7ugM_BsdK7-k6nQqY2196ULoQRnjNUcbIBunpzWavLqyEOKkAAlm2ElAkOIyiwivtqv-hhnMzLELXno0VvDIrF9JGP1wMiK5toyM_5A/s1600/IMG_1593.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566208435840711778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9g05g2OSNHMSsMPffCBf4L0ZW9jqVjARc7PC7ugM_BsdK7-k6nQqY2196ULoQRnjNUcbIBunpzWavLqyEOKkAAlm2ElAkOIyiwivtqv-hhnMzLELXno0VvDIrF9JGP1wMiK5toyM_5A/s400/IMG_1593.JPG" border="0" /></a> I adore this one. Lars told me the Jonnie cuddled up to Dale. Jonnie loves anything soft, fluffy and warm.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgId_g2M1_H3mJOORZ1N6vxO4Vp90P3qYAK9xDYppnA4g0j7imrT3SlHqBMVWt_xkN2lN9HV2j2LOnc7BRz7bxvE_TNQk615kvPqwCO9Lpem6QFW9YHin_D-aeprwa_kabLRE5PmPc3ZTc/s1600/IMG_1595.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566207445015001794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgId_g2M1_H3mJOORZ1N6vxO4Vp90P3qYAK9xDYppnA4g0j7imrT3SlHqBMVWt_xkN2lN9HV2j2LOnc7BRz7bxvE_TNQk615kvPqwCO9Lpem6QFW9YHin_D-aeprwa_kabLRE5PmPc3ZTc/s400/IMG_1595.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />With Chip.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHN3rx5upj0uZDFGhsmGQTh9u2zk7DO1GRtq5GX8ZlKayT5qt1oKMfPrQvbC97uFRoViqmhRUh2iP36RCuNtZ5tj71Y028qnkCn_W2HOqVhEfVw9U5J6ihRctZiLp0qialKoksj65ifXY/s1600/IMG_1598.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566207440169740722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHN3rx5upj0uZDFGhsmGQTh9u2zk7DO1GRtq5GX8ZlKayT5qt1oKMfPrQvbC97uFRoViqmhRUh2iP36RCuNtZ5tj71Y028qnkCn_W2HOqVhEfVw9U5J6ihRctZiLp0qialKoksj65ifXY/s400/IMG_1598.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Pinocchio!!<br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDY6OALvu-qAj0T9rmOl4Vu6AZS5jOIoTU6dJaPdQnp-hJu4oySjIVHzKZH8zvsKm7hVaz55S9aEowpPrxaIEzLvec9VfznU7JDfQDwzZVjtUHWNbBstbIoSRq8OgPKsq0vFmQEAbLeM/s1600/IMG_1601.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566207425161080882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDY6OALvu-qAj0T9rmOl4Vu6AZS5jOIoTU6dJaPdQnp-hJu4oySjIVHzKZH8zvsKm7hVaz55S9aEowpPrxaIEzLvec9VfznU7JDfQDwzZVjtUHWNbBstbIoSRq8OgPKsq0vFmQEAbLeM/s400/IMG_1601.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />We've been trying since October to see Tinkerbell, but we were always too late or a myriad of other things that come up with kids. But this day I was determined to get Jonnie and Avonlea in to see her, especially since Jonathan totally LOVES her.<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgf9_Q8C1O1dJzwJ5cUAOX9jYzUV71i0fmVrRtbJETiZIeT60ZDyNJpdKN_AwJslhqzRWWDOWiuy5Hd08vUr219FL6f7e-ZjamO-8WNHhZ-7stht9ClxmWAdXIHEdz1zKY4Ri-Fktlzc/s1600/IMG_1602.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566207415847845618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgf9_Q8C1O1dJzwJ5cUAOX9jYzUV71i0fmVrRtbJETiZIeT60ZDyNJpdKN_AwJslhqzRWWDOWiuy5Hd08vUr219FL6f7e-ZjamO-8WNHhZ-7stht9ClxmWAdXIHEdz1zKY4Ri-Fktlzc/s400/IMG_1602.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Right before entering the main maze of Pixie Hollow. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjontW-UNOiuB0AptUiJequNU2h4dNo2jOSg4qkCm21Vi4_8svrZM1WFQh2br3ePDLN9X-PFZ3AqEuO8hsW-Tz-mHY_7CLswHdXmvi6Rb8fVhiuj0PsCB2pwk9rISqjBdeaPSsdu_chGls/s1600/IMG_1607.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566207410205271234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjontW-UNOiuB0AptUiJequNU2h4dNo2jOSg4qkCm21Vi4_8svrZM1WFQh2br3ePDLN9X-PFZ3AqEuO8hsW-Tz-mHY_7CLswHdXmvi6Rb8fVhiuj0PsCB2pwk9rISqjBdeaPSsdu_chGls/s400/IMG_1607.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Jonathan couldn't stop starting at Terrance's wings. He just couldn't...stop... staring. X) </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89Tx15lm0JjgHsZhCQGbSmZwMDqfdobHHO4YVBLv2ehp1sTAL8ePWpCWPCuLo3adCcLDTEfyDnIOJ0itldH5-bwWN_3HfCOiBbkcphWs4R7pHZr6a1dtf20l6CcGq_3QPhOMaD9al6Eg/s1600/IMG_1608.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566206193133709458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89Tx15lm0JjgHsZhCQGbSmZwMDqfdobHHO4YVBLv2ehp1sTAL8ePWpCWPCuLo3adCcLDTEfyDnIOJ0itldH5-bwWN_3HfCOiBbkcphWs4R7pHZr6a1dtf20l6CcGq_3QPhOMaD9al6Eg/s400/IMG_1608.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />One more bend before meeting the Pixie herself!<br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRQRrrkoGsFM7GXK0Wuytp6mWl_G2NU_i7HmE4_Eiw-yzNNqztKr_ooANeHAmEkyn-Jy6718cNIi_yRlt4KYETylIz5-w9OdOfxDrtYf_JKynD1KUhrjY5ny1Q3y0D9npU8ZxfmKVMQQ/s1600/IMG_1610.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566206190011591954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRQRrrkoGsFM7GXK0Wuytp6mWl_G2NU_i7HmE4_Eiw-yzNNqztKr_ooANeHAmEkyn-Jy6718cNIi_yRlt4KYETylIz5-w9OdOfxDrtYf_JKynD1KUhrjY5ny1Q3y0D9npU8ZxfmKVMQQ/s400/IMG_1610.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The set up was beautiful. Jonathan is totally obsessed with flowers, but hasn't learned to say the word yet, so he points over and over again and jumps up and down clapping.<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_wt5d98eliHG9Beji8dQeFf1ScqMo_iNOg1MQ5WdQod7IfYq7w9BxT2vDnUjz1XZjbgRAkkRXbE_ZmsFVrE8e3lIvjJbH5f_iAa38AStevfXC2nAY2_oIYiD0YlOboOzdezySmxJmfE/s1600/IMG_1612.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566206181697342114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_wt5d98eliHG9Beji8dQeFf1ScqMo_iNOg1MQ5WdQod7IfYq7w9BxT2vDnUjz1XZjbgRAkkRXbE_ZmsFVrE8e3lIvjJbH5f_iAa38AStevfXC2nAY2_oIYiD0YlOboOzdezySmxJmfE/s400/IMG_1612.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />He learned what mushrooms were, "Moh moo." He'll get it eventually. =)<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwvT1J88O1T51VWkz-lQJcAgtu1aYZjtfB9nvJIim4UKsC2ewlEasxihaHLlRAoU5RAWK9S4kIIeRTG4_eMLrRjnT0TYoXyNREhnOKyPEiq8QHJIhVmEc73ESGN6HpjcBSVZ9JgozGU4/s1600/IMG_1613.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566206173409495506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwvT1J88O1T51VWkz-lQJcAgtu1aYZjtfB9nvJIim4UKsC2ewlEasxihaHLlRAoU5RAWK9S4kIIeRTG4_eMLrRjnT0TYoXyNREhnOKyPEiq8QHJIhVmEc73ESGN6HpjcBSVZ9JgozGU4/s400/IMG_1613.JPG" border="0" /></a>When we finally got up to Tinkerbell, Jonathan flipped out. He was crying and shrieking and just couldn't handle it. He was terrified of her. She was really sweet and tried to help calm him down, but that just got Jonnie more wound up. It was hard not to laugh. I guess he just hasn't figured out how to handle being around beautiful women yet...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXeh2bRhVkeP_XG52y747_TNBvOdBg56Lbzg4_VaEpoVaMDNgqFc2oflyCk50pP2xM9YRNyJh76MXxUl4HeulCNxJHJIHR2lv99KW-4XFnE9_4lZSNwt0k4YihhyyviM3ngV4LODUeiM/s1600/IMG_1614.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566206164685703202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXeh2bRhVkeP_XG52y747_TNBvOdBg56Lbzg4_VaEpoVaMDNgqFc2oflyCk50pP2xM9YRNyJh76MXxUl4HeulCNxJHJIHR2lv99KW-4XFnE9_4lZSNwt0k4YihhyyviM3ngV4LODUeiM/s400/IMG_1614.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />We then went here to meet Mickey Mouse!!</div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiK-7w39i6Rb0WXXD4ALcThxRqx7eOommGDm5aOaSjt_QVFbqcoopcMYSDIhj729mt7XkB53RQRlDaly-ukZErC7Bwh1vlLFsY0ljbsLfrY66AQYR2NBUCgUHFq1JBhMWoIK9z-9i_1YA/s1600/IMG_1617.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566204575150273986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiK-7w39i6Rb0WXXD4ALcThxRqx7eOommGDm5aOaSjt_QVFbqcoopcMYSDIhj729mt7XkB53RQRlDaly-ukZErC7Bwh1vlLFsY0ljbsLfrY66AQYR2NBUCgUHFq1JBhMWoIK9z-9i_1YA/s400/IMG_1617.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbqJWk9yLBMHJLTt21SBVS63xg22Adc2pEBHFZnAUzoFD9ZMLQa-7ajoByC5Zwm-igXD4qZZbKWVilqHDsAEoLR5GNky5Zir-xJ9wUhJy5DBIhu29W9tzzzTY_DNluKdlU6xINBHT2Po/s1600/IMG_1619.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566204566732657474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbqJWk9yLBMHJLTt21SBVS63xg22Adc2pEBHFZnAUzoFD9ZMLQa-7ajoByC5Zwm-igXD4qZZbKWVilqHDsAEoLR5GNky5Zir-xJ9wUhJy5DBIhu29W9tzzzTY_DNluKdlU6xINBHT2Po/s400/IMG_1619.JPG" border="0" /></a>Avonlea had passed out for a nap, so I took Jonathan to see Mickey. It was so wonderful. Jonathan was so sweet and cuddly while we waited in line. When we were the next up to get pictures, Jonathan could hardly contain himself, pulling on his arm to run to Mickey. I picked him up for our picture. I asked Jonnie if he loved Mickey and would give him a kiss. Ever so gently, Jonathan put both of his hands on either side of Mickey's face and planted a kiss right on the tip of Mickey's nose. Mickey gave him a big hug and I started to cry. *Even now I'm getting teary-eyed thinking about it.*<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnG2kOtFKFdEJYVOCL3hxPTpG-EmmaGdFpMJEDyk1NLqdrlGyYTWDlrcQiqxyh4ZLHu2ydcnMAMLuPZjn1RDLVJfhcBtzECsC0XYtrJZ6dOIrPKeVCZYDNxQLg0N56aRBEnGdDesAgURE/s1600/IMG_1622.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566204558413204642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnG2kOtFKFdEJYVOCL3hxPTpG-EmmaGdFpMJEDyk1NLqdrlGyYTWDlrcQiqxyh4ZLHu2ydcnMAMLuPZjn1RDLVJfhcBtzECsC0XYtrJZ6dOIrPKeVCZYDNxQLg0N56aRBEnGdDesAgURE/s400/IMG_1622.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />This cool little photo op car was on the way back to the sidewalk after visiting Mickey and Jonnie hopped right in. Cars and trains are Jonathan's latest obsession since he learned to say "choo choo" and "cah" after he got both for his birthday last year.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXzTzqUToBxqLsTc0SiQmZLlicE2qSvQhJ8FwRuMo23uXoiiCmAR4reWD62T3ex_EdOKXfPkr7bBvSf68V8FHM5XNC-rzWrQfjF6c3ji4aAim7AQGk0c0afRniqc6LCdibsDyvvZ9s7Y/s1600/IMG_1623.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566204555638847298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXzTzqUToBxqLsTc0SiQmZLlicE2qSvQhJ8FwRuMo23uXoiiCmAR4reWD62T3ex_EdOKXfPkr7bBvSf68V8FHM5XNC-rzWrQfjF6c3ji4aAim7AQGk0c0afRniqc6LCdibsDyvvZ9s7Y/s400/IMG_1623.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Jonathan wanted to go on Lily Bell the train. Dumbo and the trains are his favorite things to ride while at Disney. It was a special time for us. I got a chance to sit down other than to nurse the baby and also to be alone with Jonathan while Avonlea napped. Jonathan was so well-behaved and snuggly. He got really sleepy since it was after his naptime and when we came back around to Small World where Lars and baby were, I picked Jonathan's up, put him in the stroller and the minute the blanket his his lap, he was out.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBz6XMgz9pP7B92tIc15kGOQkBE8jRjGQvhJp-n-oEg8SfEh_OG7rpCh_4DGClBgDYJrKQ-bytLUwLKnKUTtR8XxWxM_phz-EYvCXWvx67kaJIpDTBlhSoP4dZSrzrtskEvnc_i2IHIE/s1600/IMG_1628.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566204553053496818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBz6XMgz9pP7B92tIc15kGOQkBE8jRjGQvhJp-n-oEg8SfEh_OG7rpCh_4DGClBgDYJrKQ-bytLUwLKnKUTtR8XxWxM_phz-EYvCXWvx67kaJIpDTBlhSoP4dZSrzrtskEvnc_i2IHIE/s400/IMG_1628.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Monsters Inc. is the other movie that gets abused daily in our house. We were able to catch Sully on the way into his ride yesrterday morning.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsVILYpHYf5kYeDEVz1TMRizdA8N2HqlDWjkPyVvXqZQZ__oqOa09W___ozJzrYrDvuwzJBusKBGyzQxGos7yKK3WgCsXsQW9Ufzpe76azEQcN9rW9RkDVto3Ru_zElxzF5vtKYCcUa0/s1600/IMG_1629.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566202039315589794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsVILYpHYf5kYeDEVz1TMRizdA8N2HqlDWjkPyVvXqZQZ__oqOa09W___ozJzrYrDvuwzJBusKBGyzQxGos7yKK3WgCsXsQW9Ufzpe76azEQcN9rW9RkDVto3Ru_zElxzF5vtKYCcUa0/s400/IMG_1629.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Yesterday Lars had the day off because his school district gives the following Monday after finals off. As we walked into the park after seeing Sully and hitting up Monsters Inc. at California Adventure, the main characters were spewing across Main Street for meet-and-greet.</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8y6p1YC89DFuXtjzNmi1ygrpzWU5tiq8QyBp_IlS87pQwvSFnqURGMoGs0lhWFXL8mKIQoLhqaYR46IXcKWehR5N5zf3mWve3hdOYxE3CngNyYzkQDE58VIJgLhz5eAbgl1fL-AYCqjU/s1600/IMG_1631.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566202031515935794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8y6p1YC89DFuXtjzNmi1ygrpzWU5tiq8QyBp_IlS87pQwvSFnqURGMoGs0lhWFXL8mKIQoLhqaYR46IXcKWehR5N5zf3mWve3hdOYxE3CngNyYzkQDE58VIJgLhz5eAbgl1fL-AYCqjU/s400/IMG_1631.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="center">Minnie!<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPDqwIDPT_xXubtPjm3yfsSTBdljETjyNoArRNl6bLP3fsex9gGlbECcm-dm8Kh7pok5hJgPGwJ44C26elToOsKUtIIO7wmbPlQZLQdIUQoy0e8yWs-TLkthmt7uF0obaWSY7nEVS3jI/s1600/IMG_1633.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566202020136056194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPDqwIDPT_xXubtPjm3yfsSTBdljETjyNoArRNl6bLP3fsex9gGlbECcm-dm8Kh7pok5hJgPGwJ44C26elToOsKUtIIO7wmbPlQZLQdIUQoy0e8yWs-TLkthmt7uF0obaWSY7nEVS3jI/s400/IMG_1633.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />We had just watched Pinocchio the night before, so Jonathan was trying to figure out where he's seen Geppeto before. Jonathan kept stroking Geppeto's hair and giving him a weird look. It was cracking me up!! You can see it on Lars' face as well!<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvxCZjufjGF0HKk4islVA1a7xJMn-wSfYGUo_0Ix0q4QSiH1Wi826QFRZvcXfUl06Xjpl4MIQeG1Kqzzcdl4sojcEQkwU6TLxoJ1baBTxDJQyCwyT6zEMDj2XZllZWBzt0eN0Axicpbs/s1600/IMG_1634.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566202017576352386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvxCZjufjGF0HKk4islVA1a7xJMn-wSfYGUo_0Ix0q4QSiH1Wi826QFRZvcXfUl06Xjpl4MIQeG1Kqzzcdl4sojcEQkwU6TLxoJ1baBTxDJQyCwyT6zEMDj2XZllZWBzt0eN0Axicpbs/s400/IMG_1634.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Who could forget Pluto?<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnobUjMbHdMNagwjNPUiDJUFT_x4ZetSLkGMzFqAjtREzw4KeN61ECyHTAYqVsSNeCj-EDzX3rRYCpwWmFBXBiQV1l6kk9JeR4GlvOqcEq3nuVJED-suS_oSJve3nRk_9ielmGgf35luM/s1600/IMG_1635.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566199209034000930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnobUjMbHdMNagwjNPUiDJUFT_x4ZetSLkGMzFqAjtREzw4KeN61ECyHTAYqVsSNeCj-EDzX3rRYCpwWmFBXBiQV1l6kk9JeR4GlvOqcEq3nuVJED-suS_oSJve3nRk_9ielmGgf35luM/s400/IMG_1635.JPG" border="0" /></a> I didn't know that Jonathan and Lars had gotten a picture with Goofy the weekend before until we were already up to take this picture. So, here's one of me with both kids this time around. =)<br /><br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYjwfHgxhLEDAWtI5MkBNmqPse_4Km1zzZ8Kbz9oGTy9zqeKbgG_z86U9LmZnInpEMpcR-_Pqcgzrx8kyuliebwhBA6eFFKIDbMvH9illPRzkDdXHC60AqA15MfK2XPjNZpam-a2nTHY/s1600/IMG_1636.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566199205873360290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYjwfHgxhLEDAWtI5MkBNmqPse_4Km1zzZ8Kbz9oGTy9zqeKbgG_z86U9LmZnInpEMpcR-_Pqcgzrx8kyuliebwhBA6eFFKIDbMvH9illPRzkDdXHC60AqA15MfK2XPjNZpam-a2nTHY/s400/IMG_1636.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />While Avonlea ate, the boys took Lily Bell around the park. As I went to meet them, the Queen of Hearts and the White Rabbit came out. She is seriously one of the most frightening characters I've seen at the park. Since these guys are some of those rare characters that you don't see very often, I was psyched out and clamoring to get a picture. I just wish you could see the Queen's face better since she looks <em>exactly</em> like the cartoon.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRf3vjQLyQAKMsffD-I96UK-WUbJnPnnUKOq1zWy7z1UvWGsncYzyUJIl4Oyl9uoTXir0N53PmKoGk1MkUC0LF_W5-aZxsQqFUNQTmCk1G_lFHHq57pdgmXEb-jssBONTFLIGnzUbuh4/s1600/IMG_1637.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566199196358719362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRf3vjQLyQAKMsffD-I96UK-WUbJnPnnUKOq1zWy7z1UvWGsncYzyUJIl4Oyl9uoTXir0N53PmKoGk1MkUC0LF_W5-aZxsQqFUNQTmCk1G_lFHHq57pdgmXEb-jssBONTFLIGnzUbuh4/s400/IMG_1637.JPG" border="0" /></a> This is one of those things that everyone sees, but never remembers to take a photo of while they're there since the road curves around it and most peolpe don't walk through this little garden that separates the different roads to the various parts of the park.. This time around because of construction, I remembered to pull out the camera and take a picture while we crossed to the castle.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaoJ4FSbXKLY6QyT5PwrrsVV9qq5T2THjgR_Ba4dDGts_-5ztKI7fRi3-5Rh1E4Sp7PXj5vCO6b2HBM0yJCPY4ikOSdsYgy2bithQlT9yhjktlErU2IaRkjdWn26HRPNw55xeStTR-A8I/s1600/IMG_1638.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566199189996084546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaoJ4FSbXKLY6QyT5PwrrsVV9qq5T2THjgR_Ba4dDGts_-5ztKI7fRi3-5Rh1E4Sp7PXj5vCO6b2HBM0yJCPY4ikOSdsYgy2bithQlT9yhjktlErU2IaRkjdWn26HRPNw55xeStTR-A8I/s400/IMG_1638.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />So we arrived to the bane of our trip. We waited over an HOUR AND A HALF to met these guys. I was so beyond disappointed because we were told that the queue people were getting in wasn't a ride. WHAT??! You mean the Snow White ride was ripped out just for a character photo op?? </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Well anyway, the boys hopped on Dumbo while us girls waited and waited <em>and waited</em> and the Dumbo ride line was the longest I've EVER seen it. Then they came back over and we waited and waited and proceeded to wait even <em>longer</em>. Avonlea was starving and Jonathan was cranky. But can I just tell you it was sooo worth it? Both Flynn and Rapunzel were the nicest characters I've ever met. Boys never wait in line as long as we did to meet these two, so they were excited to see Jonathan and both of them asked about Avonlea and LOVED her name. *grins sheepishly* And would you believe that we haven't even seen the movie yet?? I must be crazy!!!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyk0OGzcOYYh9KmcN_sch4vealpzgfrQ6aksVRx2PEnAfdxB04OMH1De_U6yLvqNMqjeQaDOVSk5Cjp4SOICbLKygT5w5idCcAjasvXSesIrc8DKNrDxgmhDCVxfp1Zffqz1VjzA2Fl4/s1600/IMG_1641.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566199184812755570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyk0OGzcOYYh9KmcN_sch4vealpzgfrQ6aksVRx2PEnAfdxB04OMH1De_U6yLvqNMqjeQaDOVSk5Cjp4SOICbLKygT5w5idCcAjasvXSesIrc8DKNrDxgmhDCVxfp1Zffqz1VjzA2Fl4/s400/IMG_1641.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Anyhoo, again, the minute Jonathan was in the stroller and the blanket his his lap he was out. We rushed to the nursing station where Avonlea promptly fell asleep for her nap as well. So Lars and I wandered through the shops looking and lusting after things and then sat down at the fudge shop so I could indulge in a fudge s'more bar and enjoy the ragtime piano player on Main Street. I requested "When You Wish Upon a Star" since it's our song and we danced together while the kids slept. It was wonderful to spend that small moment together in what I refer to as "our personal Disney". </div><div></div><div>Then we walked all the way back to the garage and the kids woke up right as we were waiting to load on the elevator. Even though they napped until around a quarter after 7, they both went to sleep before 11pm.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>It feels good to be busy. I have a hard time sitting down to the computer simply because I have no patience for it anymore. I love being an active mother. I've been reading more books and working on more hobbies and keeping house better, among many other things. </div><div></div><div>Something else too, is that you'll more than likely see more pictures of me up when I do post. I'm working very hard on allowing me to be me. I'm learning to be thankful for my body the way it is and not punish myself for looking how I do. It's a big process, but taking pictures of myself is a first step. I hope I haven't killed you all from such a long post! I just don't get on very often anymore, so there might be more posts like this one!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-38588433292816246142010-10-18T23:43:00.000-07:002010-10-18T23:46:04.562-07:00GrowingLittle Avonlea is three months today! Where on EARTH is time going??!?<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiRpxpuXX7kP2ceCmuAULiArTzweN9pKmys1EMVloSOZSmztqeCASY_E0SSAybuskwKgMvnnsXJEhr0F4rH3KMjlgemVDJr090MupnZMNzaEYq6GJjD6lfdcqHHdT32RUxjY_SR5YeGBs/s1600/IMG_1279.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529644486655462850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiRpxpuXX7kP2ceCmuAULiArTzweN9pKmys1EMVloSOZSmztqeCASY_E0SSAybuskwKgMvnnsXJEhr0F4rH3KMjlgemVDJr090MupnZMNzaEYq6GJjD6lfdcqHHdT32RUxjY_SR5YeGBs/s400/IMG_1279.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-84711270781512845702010-10-12T15:03:00.000-07:002010-10-12T15:08:28.562-07:00BusinessI've come to the decision that I CAN do this. I'm good. I was dang good when I graduated four years ago.<br /><br />I'm starting up my own home haircutting business. I have a few clients that I will be starting with this week and I'm psyched out of my mind. If you live in or around the area I live, leave me a message or call me to schedule an appointment and/or price listing.<br /><br />Thanks!Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-57640702920418624582010-09-29T19:31:00.001-07:002010-09-29T19:31:48.867-07:00<table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" border="0" bgcolor="#ffffff"><tr><td><a href="http://smilebox.com/play/4d546b794f5445334d6a453d0d0a&blogview=true&campaign=blog_playback_link" target="_blank"><img width="386" height="303" alt="Click to play this Smilebox greeting" src="http://smilebox.com/snap/4d546b794f5445334d6a453d0d0a.jpg" style="border: medium none ;" /></a></td></tr><tr><td><a href="http://www.smilebox.com/?partner=google&campaign=blog_snapshot" target="_blank"><img width="386" height="46" alt="Create your own greeting - Powered by Smilebox" src="http://www.smilebox.com/globalImages/blogInstructions/blogLogoSmileboxSmall.gif" style="border: medium none ;" /></a></td></tr><tr><td align="center">This <a href="http://www.smilebox.com/all/ecards/index.html" target="_blank">free digital ecard</a> personalized with Smilebox</td></tr></table>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-80220512640625513632010-09-29T13:00:00.001-07:002010-09-29T13:18:51.659-07:00Avonlea's Two Month Check-Up<div align="left">Avonlea had her first major well baby check-up today. Her doctor said she was perfect! She's doubled her weight from 6lbs. and 8.4 oz. at birth to 12 lbs. and 6.6 oz. today! Her head circumference, weight and length are all in the 75%. So proud of my growing girl!<br /><br />She didn't cry hardly at all either! Screams and wails, but as soon as I picked her up and swaddled her into her car seat, she was silent and observing her surroundings. Very good baby!<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center">So big!<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6bqv_JA7qaw1QpoZn8hJd8XMzv7wq1QEz0TMHW6s8wVoSZ-I-Aw06kmEbdATWBUI8-qAJoB5NyuEf9ZSb1JozroNTmhDHwkUXsydvSzC_CyKLbwDJgwzeg9a68AaLLmMJuCwdvfHJAr4/s1600/IMG_1163.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522428943973334066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6bqv_JA7qaw1QpoZn8hJd8XMzv7wq1QEz0TMHW6s8wVoSZ-I-Aw06kmEbdATWBUI8-qAJoB5NyuEf9ZSb1JozroNTmhDHwkUXsydvSzC_CyKLbwDJgwzeg9a68AaLLmMJuCwdvfHJAr4/s400/IMG_1163.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><br />Right before her shots. Love that baby check-up gown!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVeg-DJ5bYfV3CFX7LcN-oUUu8qEl8H9vEDUuzPIK4cppJpqBk-4HccRR3CTrovQoDyhcCYcYR7g_CZJBq5XgN0aRiyuVJMV5QXWFD44BLpduEyKm5wrtC70Z_ODu99ezaXq3BagxR_c/s1600/IMG_1161.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522428933272412018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVeg-DJ5bYfV3CFX7LcN-oUUu8qEl8H9vEDUuzPIK4cppJpqBk-4HccRR3CTrovQoDyhcCYcYR7g_CZJBq5XgN0aRiyuVJMV5QXWFD44BLpduEyKm5wrtC70Z_ODu99ezaXq3BagxR_c/s400/IMG_1161.JPG" border="0" /></a></p>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-33256844279046519212010-09-19T19:59:00.000-07:002010-09-19T23:38:39.204-07:00Ladies With SpecsI saw this posted by a good friend of mine and gleaned what good photos I have of me in glasses. I LOVE them! But I need new ones again- it has been four years!<br /><br />My girlfriend posted this link- <a href="http://thismamamakesstuff.com/2010/09/girls-with-glasses-i-need-your-help/">http://thismamamakesstuff.com/2010/09/girls-with-glasses-i-need-your-help/</a><br /><br />If you have specs, read it it's super cute!<br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Winter 2006 after getting married.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBIPQb3JfjoYjBNUuRnu27AFotCfKPAW5s9Q_eCql5ubPW00xKhme59LSQN00B6iY7QTNzBCXq3XFb1kw7sGgVDaAmqp4THADvyR6ViY2ZgdOb6-mR9t4xTL6LO7SCvchqTBmq5uKJIE/s1600/Excalibur+Mug+Love.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825553741931906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBIPQb3JfjoYjBNUuRnu27AFotCfKPAW5s9Q_eCql5ubPW00xKhme59LSQN00B6iY7QTNzBCXq3XFb1kw7sGgVDaAmqp4THADvyR6ViY2ZgdOb6-mR9t4xTL6LO7SCvchqTBmq5uKJIE/s400/Excalibur+Mug+Love.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">Thanksgiving 2006, my big brother Dan and I rockin' our specs.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvkEp0ytljS-Gt7yFbSnEjj3CpMarlCJw_Dmds49HnRdV5fvUN_yknq8xL83UdWA_V-amp0CtSIJftgN5NH05t-olU-bBVd1tqIdcPxPK8mEYaKg1KahW0WhyphenhyphenwoFgq0ooj0o5VE7HB7Y/s1600/Beka+and+Dan+2006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825544523584322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvkEp0ytljS-Gt7yFbSnEjj3CpMarlCJw_Dmds49HnRdV5fvUN_yknq8xL83UdWA_V-amp0CtSIJftgN5NH05t-olU-bBVd1tqIdcPxPK8mEYaKg1KahW0WhyphenhyphenwoFgq0ooj0o5VE7HB7Y/s400/Beka+and+Dan+2006.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Winter 2008- 18 days postpartum after my first baby</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2llZhSwYFIyaFP39t1_7aNUvsejhQ4RCL4C_4gZct3Pu-YEFYUFY7CPapdgSwiHozXhdNeDrC1Vasg6P8LvrAZC4vPN3oAJXt8pflWhAFNEv8sC5bmzwnhUFZ5WlegjzxlsWrvxn6SA/s1600/Beka+18+days+Post.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825528769754642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 192px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2llZhSwYFIyaFP39t1_7aNUvsejhQ4RCL4C_4gZct3Pu-YEFYUFY7CPapdgSwiHozXhdNeDrC1Vasg6P8LvrAZC4vPN3oAJXt8pflWhAFNEv8sC5bmzwnhUFZ5WlegjzxlsWrvxn6SA/s400/Beka+18+days+Post.bmp" border="0" /></a><br />Summer 2008- 20 weeks along with my first child<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH64hwIjo6xkaq0EVdmpSiLjSnQUsqWNXQ5s9o3c_-xZ6164zjhCLAMkYsPcGfUK_7wFMD-t6cEQkdcZGe7kBNLTD5Ra-V2_HiotFVTHH1b5tGlvTNsHO24wuMSiTFrlRNN9Tvs3tWkPk/s1600/Beka+20+weeks.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825516050824258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 208px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH64hwIjo6xkaq0EVdmpSiLjSnQUsqWNXQ5s9o3c_-xZ6164zjhCLAMkYsPcGfUK_7wFMD-t6cEQkdcZGe7kBNLTD5Ra-V2_HiotFVTHH1b5tGlvTNsHO24wuMSiTFrlRNN9Tvs3tWkPk/s400/Beka+20+weeks.bmp" border="0" /></a><br />Early fall 2008- my husband and I. We rocked the vote!<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXx6kLwcTVn2T0Xn5QH6jf2hZ8vTAu1TTWc7xxASMBcSyckw0vpf-mt1jGlCIpQKz77vE7FMSap7v6c0H4V4WENxJUVzfuz90otD8Mfq8SWe8eRpijp-gRJ2dMN2OadugNBjwjwJIZc6I/s1600/Voting+Smooches.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825508500743538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXx6kLwcTVn2T0Xn5QH6jf2hZ8vTAu1TTWc7xxASMBcSyckw0vpf-mt1jGlCIpQKz77vE7FMSap7v6c0H4V4WENxJUVzfuz90otD8Mfq8SWe8eRpijp-gRJ2dMN2OadugNBjwjwJIZc6I/s400/Voting+Smooches.bmp" border="0" /></a> </div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-82369747923699555562010-09-18T21:22:00.001-07:002010-09-18T21:26:51.108-07:00Baby Love<div align="center">Two Months Today!</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqOvMbSv0hd44LwFkoGdRE17T_og5ArS0-XeLjuob_R663hO9b2TT79i_k8SKq8iD70xVd5EnHK4I1wbs0JX7N_HVA4ZzX_RMyTOkcxU4I_Zlwm_eEKogiM87GX7hcj0DoP655dNB8-s/s1600/IMG_1137.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518475523483398546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqOvMbSv0hd44LwFkoGdRE17T_og5ArS0-XeLjuob_R663hO9b2TT79i_k8SKq8iD70xVd5EnHK4I1wbs0JX7N_HVA4ZzX_RMyTOkcxU4I_Zlwm_eEKogiM87GX7hcj0DoP655dNB8-s/s400/IMG_1137.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-86433598006870544422010-09-11T09:32:00.000-07:002010-09-11T10:36:57.536-07:00RememberI remember this day 9 years ago. I had just finished early morning color guard practice after putting the equipment in the guard closet and sat down by the band room door to catch my breath. I grabbed my water bottle, pooring sweat and dizzy from exersion. It was about 45 minutes until the start of school so I was trying to figure out if I had enough time to run home to shower and be back in time for first hour.<br /><br />Just then, one of my band buddies walked up to me and asked something like, "Is it true that one of the twin towers was just hit with an airplane??"<br /><br />I looked at and laughed. "Haha! NO! Where's you hear a CRAZY idea like that?"<br /><br />"Someone said something and I wasn't sure." I had no idea how wrong I would be.<br /><br />Really though, I was thinking about it all morning and by 3rd hour, the entire school was buzzing and the teachers had turned on Channel One to watch new reports. I was in my third hour history class and everyone had turned their desk around to the back of the classroom to watch the tv, our big reports all but forgotten. As we all watched the first tower rolling with smoke and flames, we all watched in shock as another plane flew into the south tower. The bell rang and no one moved. The school was eerily quiet for getting out for lunch. The reporters were helpless as they reported the live footage. One of the female reporters starting crying.<br /><br />Then all the sudden, the school sprang to life. People started to get up quickly, tripping over desks, some trying to make it to the next location with a tv to keep up with what was going on. I remember like everything was a teen movie, walking through the animated lockered hallways, in slow-mo with no sound.<br /><br />After lunch, I heard reports that the Pentagon was under seige with a possible airplane hit. My grandfather and grandmother had moved back to DC to secure his retirement the year before. He worked in the Pentagon. My throat tightened and I felt like I couldn't breathe.<br /><br />School FINALLY ended and I made it home. Later that evening, we found out that my grandfather had been scheduled to work on the opposite side of the Pentagon that was hit so he was safe. I was beyond relieved, but the full weight of everything hit me right then. All those people.<br /><br />I was devistated. The people in the planes. The people in the buildings. Their families would would never see them again. The first terrorist attack on America since Pearl Harbor. The very first attack on the American Mainland. All the sudden life seemed more fagile, not so safe, even though I lived 3000 miles away from NYC.<br /><br />********************<br /><br />Last year after I put my son to sleep, I turned on the telly. My local news station was playing footage from that day. As I watched, transfixed, all the emotions from when I was a teenager flooded back. Tears started pouring down my face. My husband came into the room and sat down on the couch by me. Together, we relived all our feelings from 9/11. Then he held me as I cried, overwhelmed all over again by the horrendous loss of all those innocent American lives.<br /><br />*********************<br /><br />Let us not forget those who were left without family members of AA flight 11 and UA flight 175 and those in the towers. Let us not forget those lives from the Pentagon and those from AA flight 77. Let us remember those who bravely took over UA flight 93 to save the lives within the US Capitol Building. Let us remember September 11th and be stronger Americans for it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">My name is Rebekah and I will <strong><em>NEVER</em></strong> forget.</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-66996240114521019712010-09-03T17:19:00.000-07:002010-09-05T14:02:13.854-07:00ChangesThings are in constant motion. We all know this. We move from day to day doing what we all do from the mundane to the exciting. Day follows day which turn into weeks followed by months and then another year has passed. The world turns and the seasons come with rain, sun, snow and whatever other kind of weather Mother Nature puts forth in a particular climate.<br /><br />We see these things happen as we shuffle through our daily tasks, but most of the time, I don't think we truly see them. With all of the things we heap on our plates, it's a miracle we even see anything.<br /><br /><br /><br />A few weeks ago, as I sat on my couch watching my son play excitedly and holding my brand new baby girl, a thought quickly flooded my mind. It impressed upon me and everything all started to make sense. I felt as if I were disconnected with my children after the birth of my daughter, but it was more of an awakening. I felt more than heard this thought. I felt this- my children aren't mine. They are here to live and experience life.<br /><br />I asked my husband, "Do you ever feel like these aren't our kids? Like, they're just these amazing little people who've come to spend time with us and teach us things?" I don't remember his response, but after I said those things aloud, it made more sense.<br /><br />I truly feel that way. I don't feel possessive of my children anymore like the way I felt at first with my son. I truly believe that they are marvelous little people who've come to join my husband and I on our way to eternity. They are our teachers.<br /><br />When I look at my oldest child, I see glimpses of his spirit. He is wise and knows so many things. There are times that I feel like he's looking right through me, as if he can see something I can't. I feel as if he's older than me spiritually. There are some who say he's an "old soul." And I agree.<br /><br />Let us cherish these little people who've come to us. Let us take time to count to 10 before we react, speak calmly about things they can not understand, love unrestrained when we feel overwhelmed and pray for guidance when there is a moment to teach. Let us take the good from our parents and guardians and forget the bad. Let us take time to really truly see those precious things going around us and shut out the unnecissary. Let us simply take time.Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-6094995119475892502010-08-23T20:53:00.001-07:002010-08-23T21:02:41.229-07:00Pretty in Polkadots<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDadFZLMBsr3PfbbD33E4scGPLly3dUEZ_VBO9uD-rz1k1KFvvjHgMLoFQjsS4eCJxWe7rg88jJLV0JBI6acRterHF1B_dNopuZutrgMEmBERh5ERWJa5skcplPQF_LuhNeiCGfX2cw-I/s1600/IMG_1049.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508820830386559794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDadFZLMBsr3PfbbD33E4scGPLly3dUEZ_VBO9uD-rz1k1KFvvjHgMLoFQjsS4eCJxWe7rg88jJLV0JBI6acRterHF1B_dNopuZutrgMEmBERh5ERWJa5skcplPQF_LuhNeiCGfX2cw-I/s400/IMG_1049.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgco2nYFkb6lnfWlWjUucocDgK-g7u746MzZoGBmeIXD9IzarvEQsOzErYGdGRs_t-tPfa9EjhVuFli6MY-0HXtEr3QR-g8Tg9Vn0Culgc3XdgLbYXx4GpEcQPZpOaAoaEI-gsnRkRiHSA/s1600/IMG_1050.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508820821650985218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgco2nYFkb6lnfWlWjUucocDgK-g7u746MzZoGBmeIXD9IzarvEQsOzErYGdGRs_t-tPfa9EjhVuFli6MY-0HXtEr3QR-g8Tg9Vn0Culgc3XdgLbYXx4GpEcQPZpOaAoaEI-gsnRkRiHSA/s400/IMG_1050.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qNytczbfPb-gCtigknLF53yetXfsrpbNNhFhLmVrMu_lZ_9kCMR1hN7r5JqhYxOKI5Al6bGLRvK9FqQskg3lL4vlmexvUMDAK9dVX03GMl7DP6feBGFU7SpqNcEgnSmf2Edvg_YvOMo/s1600/IMG_1052.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508820807686960418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qNytczbfPb-gCtigknLF53yetXfsrpbNNhFhLmVrMu_lZ_9kCMR1hN7r5JqhYxOKI5Al6bGLRvK9FqQskg3lL4vlmexvUMDAK9dVX03GMl7DP6feBGFU7SpqNcEgnSmf2Edvg_YvOMo/s400/IMG_1052.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TjD79LEidJGMpKdyOEwkBfnz-RwK2q1rycvVJpYEOfQqzJ71A3rANuNid0JdYWcPdddNscQ61LQl84gqkX_2toB0EgGeUSEM9GuzMAz8VjongS_BA6zMAXKwmIcE56kR037Jn-zxzzg/s1600/IMG_1055.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508820794131876354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TjD79LEidJGMpKdyOEwkBfnz-RwK2q1rycvVJpYEOfQqzJ71A3rANuNid0JdYWcPdddNscQ61LQl84gqkX_2toB0EgGeUSEM9GuzMAz8VjongS_BA6zMAXKwmIcE56kR037Jn-zxzzg/s400/IMG_1055.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-84980037991633177252010-08-18T17:39:00.000-07:002010-08-18T17:42:16.807-07:00One Month!<div align="center">One month older and wiser too! Happy Birthday.. to you! </div><div align="center"> </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnfTKhbaKoqCJBRAoLjsxYkyjSrkk2-gYHI-RJlLsin7mk6xmrJ7fU1GaUZgnPkL_lbwb6_XvQbMGlVCyHstjKrflo7cK5mU8uOWZ3b_LjJxM3ODclmiHf6LXZ4lFGA_HTkX1wls4rlqI/s1600/IMG_1047.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506914404364451106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnfTKhbaKoqCJBRAoLjsxYkyjSrkk2-gYHI-RJlLsin7mk6xmrJ7fU1GaUZgnPkL_lbwb6_XvQbMGlVCyHstjKrflo7cK5mU8uOWZ3b_LjJxM3ODclmiHf6LXZ4lFGA_HTkX1wls4rlqI/s400/IMG_1047.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-81494563287899735252010-08-17T11:52:00.000-07:002010-08-17T20:04:14.915-07:00Postpartum AftermathNOTE: <em>This post is not meant to be a complaint. I just want other women, including my friends to know that if this ever happens to you, I've been there and there are possibilities to help you through it.</em><br /><br /><br />I was released and came home from the hospital on Tuesday afternoon July 20th. Things were fine, other than the normal aching from stitches. My parents were going to be at our place around 8 that evening and would be here for an entire week. I was very much looking forward to it. I missed my dad so much I ached and my stepmom, Cherie, and I have been growing closer every time we see each other and I was excited to get to sit down with her and glean some much needed advice in person.<br /><br />My belly was itchy as is normal as your skin stops stretching as starts to return to normal after childbirth. I wasn't too worried about it and didn't scratch because my skin was too tender to touch. The next 3 days it got mildy worse. And then it happened.<br /><br />I became so, SO unimaginably itchy that there are no words to encompass how bad it felt. And that was just the beginning. Then as I went to sleep that night, I fought the urge to scratch. I woke up in the middle of the night on fire. I went to the bathroom as is my custom before I attend to the baby. I was stunned to see what I saw in the mirror. All over my body in HUGE patches were lobster red hives. I looked like a leper. The hives were so swollen that they puffed up and inch or more off the top of my skin that wasn't affected. An allergic reaction maybe? I have no idea but prayed in earnest that it would dissipate soon. I had Lars and my father give me a blessing.<br /><br />I woke up the next morning and they were gone. But no sooner had I realized they were gone, they came back- with a vengeance. In different areas of my body this time. They were even on my face and in my scalp. For the rest of the time my parents were here, they would dissipate for 15-30 minutes and reappear in different areas of my body. I figured I could endure it for about 4 days if it didn't hit my groin area or affect my feet, my most sensitive areas. Every hour was an eternity.<br /><br />I called Kaiser to talk to the advice nurse and he said to wait a bit. I asked if it could possibly be a delayed reaction to my allergy to the epidural, but he said that was impossible 4 days after coming home. He told me to come in the next morning if things got worst and to call first.<br /><br />Then in the middle of the night 3 days before my parents left, I awoke again in the middle of the night to what can only be described as sheer torture. My feet, hands, and groin area were smattered with hives. I had them all over. I've never felt such agony.<br /><br />I spent that day praying harder than I think I've ever prayed fr anything in my life. I didn't know what the Lord wanted me to learn by this trial, a new mom all over again with two children to care for. I just kept thinking, "What have I done wrong to deserve this kind of punishment?" I was so lost. But I did not go see the doctor. Somehow, because my parents said absolutely nothing about it, I felt like I should just tough it out, not complain. It felt like they didn't care. It made me feel distraught.<br /><br />There was one particular time that i got in the shower and I just bawled. I cried and cried and cried until I had no strength left in me to stand. I'd never felt so weak and over-powered before. I couldn't fight this. My own body was working against me. If I left the house, it would still be with me. My parents asked if I wanted to get out and be at the park for a little bit to get some resh air, but I was too ashamed to leave the house. I didn't want people staring at my hideous hives I had no control over.<br /><br />Cherie googled my symptoms online and read several blog entries and thing about it. There were over a million hits. And there was NOTHING to tell me what was the cause. So I continued to suffer. There were many times that I said that I was going to Urgent Care, but I couldn't make myself. I felt like my parents would look down on me for being weak. (which is completely ridiculous since they offered to watch Jonathan while Lars and I went with the baby). But emotionally and hormonally, I couldn't see past that.<br /><br />The morning my parents left,took action. I scheduled an appointment with my chiropractor to set my hips so I could walk normally (my hips would slide out of place so bad as I slept that Lars nearly had to carry me to the bathroom each time) and we went to Urgent Care that night.<br /><br />The doctor prescribed me a mild steroid. he said it might not work, but we had to see. If I didn't follow the directions to the T, it wouldn't work at all. I asked him if it would affect my breastmilk and if it would affect the baby. In a thick Asian accent, he said, "We have to treat you. The mother needs to be taken care of even more so than baby. If you're falling apart, the baby will get nothing out of you anyway." I took that as, "It's possible that it could have a negative effect, but there's nothing else to do." I was told to avoid being around people since the steroid would put my immune system down and he didn't want me to get sick. I also found out I had a UTI, again. I went home that night with two drugs I hoped at prayed would take care of my problems. I started them both during dinner.<br /><br />I followed them the next few days. I started to feel a result on day 3. By the time I finished the steroids, the only thing I still had was mild itching, which lasted another 4 days. But after that, the hives and burning were gone. All I had left to deal with was the UTI.<br /><br />I woke up again to feed the baby and it was hard to breathe. I could barely sit up to walk to the bathroom. Up under my ribcage, it hurt so bad I couldn't see straight. I drank a big glass of water I keep by the sink to stay hydrated. With each swallow, I felt my stomach go cold and expand. It felt like my insides would burst. I used the bathroom. Though I took the meds, my symptoms continued to get worse. I went in to UC again. This time I was prescribed something SUPER powerful for a kidney infection.<br /><br />I finished those about a week ago and I'm still having problems. But such is life.<br /><br /><br /><br />I just want all you mommies to know that you should take care of YOU first. If your baby has to wait and scream while you shower or use the bathroom or clean up a bit, so be it. Your natural inclination will be to ignore yourself and anything your feel could possibly be wrong with your body until it's too late. Don't ignore it. Take care of you. Your child will be just fine. Please love yourself as much as your child. No one can function if you're down and out.Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-56697091260243367922010-08-10T16:22:00.000-07:002010-08-10T17:30:28.414-07:00Avonlea's Check-UpAvonlea went to her well baby check-up at Kaiser today. Birth stats were 6.84 lbs., 19 1/4 inches. Today she weighed exactly 8 lbs. and in now 21 inches! All that in just 3 weeks and two days! Good job, Tiny!<br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Limbering up</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5i6hzkk-nbnMdgOQGLq_xL005oWQXoiaVG34TC9m9675Wmy9k9wJKBHe-0UClz6VsA0T7bnNBh_Bmmf_5bpsMVRUux62qLuoegUcjZH-OzBgyqnECloIKThdjkjSvoVkuQbcQLVG-ZnY/s1600/IMG_1030.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503930290506588626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5i6hzkk-nbnMdgOQGLq_xL005oWQXoiaVG34TC9m9675Wmy9k9wJKBHe-0UClz6VsA0T7bnNBh_Bmmf_5bpsMVRUux62qLuoegUcjZH-OzBgyqnECloIKThdjkjSvoVkuQbcQLVG-ZnY/s400/IMG_1030.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="center">Prima Ballerina<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRj2XBnKfnm9Rva65np7x9cWKf-VKpaVNznE8vjbtBNpeKfORQEfmYLcQlIXc6WlbLSiMJm7tMNrHvYyWl29C2A_eXPm4EiNO_8yPnAl7EeVeW_gVrhTFCpmpfAN5igzMuwLVUBt5v5Y/s1600/IMG_1032.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503930284046224226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRj2XBnKfnm9Rva65np7x9cWKf-VKpaVNznE8vjbtBNpeKfORQEfmYLcQlIXc6WlbLSiMJm7tMNrHvYyWl29C2A_eXPm4EiNO_8yPnAl7EeVeW_gVrhTFCpmpfAN5igzMuwLVUBt5v5Y/s400/IMG_1032.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBEc-KzzjQXSBoMm0UdUqBKblgVKaWzCJ4pRwRi8SSw9sLXXJxVcR3_g9xJjePGjjBPBjO-8YTzthDXUVPqLft8WXBtUktSEabxO3I39s-wPAW0YBvFGrKZ5lVfWLPz3GXDPeKuYk1Os/s1600/IMG_1033.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503930279940539826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBEc-KzzjQXSBoMm0UdUqBKblgVKaWzCJ4pRwRi8SSw9sLXXJxVcR3_g9xJjePGjjBPBjO-8YTzthDXUVPqLft8WXBtUktSEabxO3I39s-wPAW0YBvFGrKZ5lVfWLPz3GXDPeKuYk1Os/s400/IMG_1033.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />After a long hard day of sleep, it's good to kick back and sleep...<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi254b_bbN-X9hzZaLQS5WVRfTodHSSDBdze1o5_Si8a_pifk6xo4Kq-HqHxy-0e-uEN6K84g7YoYIwRH3a66NGpoN4GnrvMFg7NQk_REpBStWqeX_tesgSjlSXalN20uYLgcu_SiBKDLA/s1600/IMG_1034.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503930271184380578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi254b_bbN-X9hzZaLQS5WVRfTodHSSDBdze1o5_Si8a_pifk6xo4Kq-HqHxy-0e-uEN6K84g7YoYIwRH3a66NGpoN4GnrvMFg7NQk_REpBStWqeX_tesgSjlSXalN20uYLgcu_SiBKDLA/s400/IMG_1034.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I LOVE this! Same size as the keyboard...<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LPiI-a7prI6hwW_UDw3Th0R6EAjFmZyrvR0C3U7YweHRMaAi6eno2_HFIpExDicNwPEMTWoTMSdhWNbJvRf0oQe6_abuPuOUYQdilYx2aBfzPptDlDMEBP74PRwxqCohljs4sThvZKI/s1600/IMG_1035.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503930254309714786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LPiI-a7prI6hwW_UDw3Th0R6EAjFmZyrvR0C3U7YweHRMaAi6eno2_HFIpExDicNwPEMTWoTMSdhWNbJvRf0oQe6_abuPuOUYQdilYx2aBfzPptDlDMEBP74PRwxqCohljs4sThvZKI/s400/IMG_1035.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div><br /></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-46231272065039198162010-08-05T20:18:00.000-07:002010-08-05T21:31:20.607-07:00Spaghetti Os Anyone?<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;">Dinner Tonight...</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"></span> </div><div align="center"> </div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGdN5Z2kl-gvtWzl2m5mU44ASG2A3MdjDd8AmuGLXm6CFp2FWLGqojah6FjfIxyXlb1TG0LjhyqGy9W9vLySfvHjXSEdlhJrqQDpoewUWu5w9mcmyv3J589FF6pVcPyLn9ISgk7tR9kU/s1600/IMG_1002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502147242003515250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGdN5Z2kl-gvtWzl2m5mU44ASG2A3MdjDd8AmuGLXm6CFp2FWLGqojah6FjfIxyXlb1TG0LjhyqGy9W9vLySfvHjXSEdlhJrqQDpoewUWu5w9mcmyv3J589FF6pVcPyLn9ISgk7tR9kU/s400/IMG_1002.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIinKr19U_LXEDrLlpWY2iiljO7mYv748ikB3mi7cJ_qjIWYiwqjp96JkOTCPsVZsGwEj-UzpzABIoxibtyyM1x63JTTTIHDO71vRS93Q3qjmaLhspiEXsmRYhq0vZ5MQALiPWpZXLY4/s1600/IMG_1003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502147238332783810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIinKr19U_LXEDrLlpWY2iiljO7mYv748ikB3mi7cJ_qjIWYiwqjp96JkOTCPsVZsGwEj-UzpzABIoxibtyyM1x63JTTTIHDO71vRS93Q3qjmaLhspiEXsmRYhq0vZ5MQALiPWpZXLY4/s400/IMG_1003.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoPz6k7y2PtHkVChCaUgqmAjvNDzlSHC0f3-If8bUW2rHrdgdUeqOn8tQH-RobaK3FyZerrtXKvZaYgkFkttySmQ9mcuWrDJUd_0gEgMFbX1qcw7LFADaQQlO2IXoGetoKD2SezkrsOZE/s1600/IMG_1004.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502147223453647378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoPz6k7y2PtHkVChCaUgqmAjvNDzlSHC0f3-If8bUW2rHrdgdUeqOn8tQH-RobaK3FyZerrtXKvZaYgkFkttySmQ9mcuWrDJUd_0gEgMFbX1qcw7LFADaQQlO2IXoGetoKD2SezkrsOZE/s400/IMG_1004.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327844685411714127.post-81456200270391692952010-07-28T19:00:00.000-07:002010-08-16T15:16:58.950-07:00Birth DaySunday morning, we all woke up around 7:30 am to get ready for church. I had this feeling inside that this would be <em>the day</em> humming low inside of me somewhere. I thought about staying home, but doing NOTHING while being <em><strong>that </strong></em>pregnant was too much to bear. I felt like I <em>needed</em> to go to church. So I got up and got ready and got Jonathan ready, too.<br /><br />To spare some details, I was pretty sure that my water had started to leak, but I wasn't positive, since I was pretty much passed out from the epi on the table and at 8cm when I had Jonathan. It was 8 am exactly. I remember looking at the clock when I went to our bathroom to put my face on and clean up a bit. But once we started to go out the door, I think I knew I wouldn't make it through church and informed Lars we should go to the hospital instead.<br /><br />It was just shy of 10:00 am when we drove over to my mother-in-law's to drop off Jonathan <em>in his church clothes</em>. We then headed over to the new Downey Kaiser Hospital on Imperial to check in. Lars was joking the entire way and we were laughing like crazy. After we got all checked in and they made me get into a horrendous hospital gown and hooked me up to the belly monitors, we sat down to wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. At least I was able to wait BY MYSELF!! <em><strong>Amazing feeling</strong></em>, no black women to listen to screaming while I tried to stay calm with each contraction.. sorry. >.><br /><br />Lars and I decided to play "I Spy" in the tiny claustraphobic room and he was SUCH a pill! Oh man. I was laughing SO hard. Seriously, I couldn't catch my breath. The nurse came in and asked me to get on the table to be checked since I was sitting on one of the chairs. I stood up and it was Niagra Falls all over the floor. The nurse quickly responded, "Well, no need to check you!" which made me laugh all the harder. Good thing Lars was there. I'm sure all that hard laughing broke my water!!! I'm glad I decided to go the the hospital because my water would've broken right in the middle of Relief Society!!!<br /><br />The nurse came in to draw blood FROM MY HAND, which made me bawl because they tried to IV me in the SAME PLACE. I started to cry and cry. I would've rather been in labor with no drugs. No matter how hard I tried to breathe through the pain, I started to panic. My attending sent in another woman to IV me, since she didn't want any bad feelings between us since she was going to be with me my entire labor. Smart woman. I remembered I needed a blessing and asked the nurses to leave the room for a moment as a matter of personal religious circumstances. I felt much better afterword and knew I'd get through everything with the Lord's help.<br /><p>Lars hadn't had breakfast that morning and he was all dressed to the Nines in his church things- tie and all. When he saw the blood residue smeared on my hands and watched the IV needle probe around under my skin, it made him get dizzy. He stood up to get me a cup of water since it felt like the Sahara Desert in my mouth with all that dry air in the hospital, but the nurse ended up getting HIM one while I waited for the wheelchair to take me to my L and D room. He took his tie off per the nurse's request and sat down outside the observation room with a cup of cold water until they had me all cleaned the blood off my skin and threw away anything with my blood on it. While they started me on a hydration drip, a midwife came to talk to us- Tom Morrison. I was thrown for a loop when a <strong><em>man</em></strong> walked in the door and introduced himself as <em>The Midwife</em>. I mean DUH, Rebekah! It was just such a stretch for me to think of a man being something I'd only ever associated with women. Hahahaha!! It still cracks me up! </p><p>They brought the wheelchair, took me to the room and hooked me all up to the machines and started me on Petocin for induction. I then had Lars go to his mom's house to check on Jonathan and to change out of his church clothes and hurry and get back to the hospital. </p><p>Now I'm sure you all know that I had a terrible allergic reaction to the epidural with Jonathan, so this entire time I was pregnant I didn't really have a problem with doing it naturally (since I was nearly a 7 when I got the epi the first time), up until the first night I had Braxton-Hicks (4 days before I delivered). All the sudden naturally didn't seem so ok. I tried to brush it off, but the contractions started coming faster than I antisipated, especially since I was waiting for the anestisiologist on call (turns out there were 4 on call that day). The anestisilogist wanted to call the other hospital to see if she could get my medical report about my reactions, since she couldn't really pinpoint what specifically caused my hives and burning in my veins.<br /><br />As I was waiting, another anestisiologist came in and she was pretty assertive, but hard to understand in her thick Asian accent. But she was adamant that I get an epidural. She told me we'd figure it out as we went, but she wasn't going to let me do an induction without pain meds. And rightly so. The contractions were coming faster than I had antisipated, and after watching this lame channel on cable, I was wearing thin on laboring by myself. I kept calling Larry and there was no answer. Finally, he picked up. By the time Larry actually got to the hosptial, it felt like a year had passed and I was in serious pain. I had Lars rub my temples while I breathed through them and flipped on the tv that had a peaceful music channel). Lars was asked to leave for a half hour during the epidurl procedure (new hospital procedure due to a HORRIFIC accident that happened). It took 3 attempts in different locations for the dr. to put it in my spine without me yelping in pain. She was getting frustrated, and said "How odd. You feel that? Boy, you super sensitive lady!" She also put in an order for a dose of Benedryl to be injected into my IV every 4 hours, which I was grateful for.<br /><br />Larry came back up to check on me and I sent him back to Gramma's to feed Jonathan and bring him back to our place to nap in his crib. (He doesn't sleep anywhere but in his bed or carseat.) I slept most of the time (minus waking a bit when I was contrating). It was pretty nice. But when the contractions started coming stronger, I called Larry to come back and be with me. I was getting freaked out being alone. So he dropped the Peanut off at Gramma's again and came to nap on the room's couch by me.<br /><br />It was surreal. I was just sleeping, trying to remember to roll back and forth to keep the epidural spread through out my body. Pretty peaceful, especially because I finally had company. It was so much easier to be calm with his presence in the room.<br /><br />Finally around 6 pm, my contractions were getting very, very strong and the epidural was starting to wear off a bit. I told the nurse in slurred speech that it was getting overly hard to try to sleep and I was feeling A LOT of pressure with each contraction. She made a call and another nurse came in they chatted for moment and called Tom. He came and checked me. "Wow, you've got another cemtimeter to go!" The nurses sprung into action and tables came out of nowhere and shiny intruments and bowls were prepped and set out on surgical cloths. I tried hard not to watch it all. Seeing all that stuff for a split second made my stomach turn over so I squeezed my eyes shut. Three more nurses came in to dress Tom in delivery garb and set up the baby table.<br /><br />Once Tom was all dressed, he checked me again and I was ready. They pulled the table apart and I shifted down to the end of the bed. Lars held my hand and all I heard was, "When you feel a contraction, bear down hard. PUSH!" I could hear Lars ask if the nurse could see any hair. "Umm, no. But it's a little early to tell." With lots of encouragement and direction, Avonlea was out in 6 pushes. She officially arrived at 6:50 pm. When she came out, Tom asked Lars if he wanted to cut the cord. Lars looked at me and I asked him if he wanted to and said he didn't have to if he didn't want to. Relief flooded his face as he turned back to the doctor and said, "No. I'm good." She cried twice as she sucked in air to breathe for the first time and then was quiet and curious, just like her brother.<br /><br />The cord was cut and the nurse placed her directly on my belly and told me to touch her and bond with her. Disoriented, I touched her tiny head with the edge of my right hand by my thumb. Tiny and blue, she was sticky. It grossed me out. I felt bad about thinking that, but I couldn't bring myself to touch her again. She was whisked to the table on the left side of the room and cleaned up, weighed and given to Lars, while I was put back together by the doctor. When I was able to hold her, she looked so foreign to me, a lot like Larry. It was diffecult to gasp the fact I'd just had a baby. A little over 10 hours start to finish. A piece of cake really, which i was ever so grateful for!<br /><br />Lars spent the rest of the time holding her while I recovered from the numbness in my body before I was checked into the Postpartum Recovery Ward. He was capitvated by her. She was itty bitty and perfect. </p><p align="left">The nurse who came to check us into the Recovery ward informed us that Avonlea was the ONLY baby born that evening. The rest had been born that morning and early afternoon and the other women who came in around the same time as me and just after me were still laboring. Now <em>that's</em> pretty cool.<br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"><em></em></span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;"><em>Welcome to the world, Avonlea</em></span></strong>. </p>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05339487124095272436noreply@blogger.com2