tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56293800926753846372024-02-20T03:06:44.117-06:00Party of Fivebecause life in our family of five is always a partyKrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.comBlogger359125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-50045694559238106922011-06-02T08:25:00.005-05:002011-06-02T08:35:46.293-05:00Summer listsSo, the long awaited lists are in! The kids could not wait to make these lists this year. In true third child fashion, even Owen got in the action.<br /><br />I love how their lists reflect their personalities, their interests and will someday give them a sneak peek into what they were like at this age. As I read through the lists, my emotions fly from laughter to tears. Josh wants to learn how to mow the lawn (he's growing up). Ellie wants her ears pierced (didn't see that one coming). Owen wants to wear shorts (I guess it's the simple things, eh?).<br /><br />So enjoy the lists and we'll keep you posted on which ones we've achieved as summer begins today!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Ellie's Summer List<br />(It's two pages, because, well, a girl needs options, ya know)<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRb3b8690tOr7cy5f9eiRdAxkotjnl_tecO6fsjL6sYIHqiPnbVYwWX4goNlB1Mm3f-HyMmRitohCwWMgXRQbDyTL8Z-YbRD4FO7GJ1vaL1W2Z1bYVfYPVl_jGgtkUQHCe2Z9mOLa6l2e5/s1600/IMG_2903.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRb3b8690tOr7cy5f9eiRdAxkotjnl_tecO6fsjL6sYIHqiPnbVYwWX4goNlB1Mm3f-HyMmRitohCwWMgXRQbDyTL8Z-YbRD4FO7GJ1vaL1W2Z1bYVfYPVl_jGgtkUQHCe2Z9mOLa6l2e5/s320/IMG_2903.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613614530089780306" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6h_MqtxpHUFilSFsZ8yjPu2_fRM0mQ2xJ_CZirCFW7x_LcuyUnpKEQ5EGScMIDl0Cl6uIfOXlzJ7KXji4Y17VODS8Dh7Wk9Rn-133JGguN-e0DBgCwoc8NMwKwSJ7Ph9nF1jLFyafFcVU/s1600/IMG_2906.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6h_MqtxpHUFilSFsZ8yjPu2_fRM0mQ2xJ_CZirCFW7x_LcuyUnpKEQ5EGScMIDl0Cl6uIfOXlzJ7KXji4Y17VODS8Dh7Wk9Rn-133JGguN-e0DBgCwoc8NMwKwSJ7Ph9nF1jLFyafFcVU/s320/IMG_2906.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613614536144749970" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Owen's Summer List<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAGDX4wZS0fGUTNBBHp1WUxfu_2LE5X5rJGfU3pT3ThY69BDdMA5p8I-V3NfbyoQNqB4LLrfk8EfOlxNomqYmvS7HCQwmm2wMbnepdNgPjmVez9Ee40f-cLYdt-YRef1q-EPA-GsW3CnC/s1600/IMG_2902.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAGDX4wZS0fGUTNBBHp1WUxfu_2LE5X5rJGfU3pT3ThY69BDdMA5p8I-V3NfbyoQNqB4LLrfk8EfOlxNomqYmvS7HCQwmm2wMbnepdNgPjmVez9Ee40f-cLYdt-YRef1q-EPA-GsW3CnC/s320/IMG_2902.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613614522467770018" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Josh's Summer List<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gGBCntl0IuS4eBvkdfBVRYdJNsNG3UaAluZvfgPbw_GLkIWsxz5rC4angtMyfhR71HiQq9jsVo5SuZU3rQX-OSvR2ZlnYdKI7GOEDZPqA-gK3W3sfxsZ8cmtLpsJpPqG7FuMKn7c1NHx/s1600/IMG_2907.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gGBCntl0IuS4eBvkdfBVRYdJNsNG3UaAluZvfgPbw_GLkIWsxz5rC4angtMyfhR71HiQq9jsVo5SuZU3rQX-OSvR2ZlnYdKI7GOEDZPqA-gK3W3sfxsZ8cmtLpsJpPqG7FuMKn7c1NHx/s320/IMG_2907.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613614539907208770" border="0" /></a>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-38783444283817029202010-11-30T19:47:00.004-06:002010-11-30T20:11:53.941-06:00Another milestoneHe's up there right now. In the gentle darkness, snuggled up on the comfy covers, telling him the truth. The truth about the big man in red. <br /><br />Josh had asked this morning on the way to the bus stop if Santa was real. With a little still-want-<span style="font-style: italic;">her</span>-to-believe-sister in the car, his dad effectively dodged the question.<br /><br />We had a feeling this was going to be the year. The year when one of childhood's innocent fibs would slowly be brought into the light of truth.<br /><br />So we talked about how he would tell him tonight. How we would try to protect the secret for his younger siblings, too. How it is based on the powerful truth that there are some things we believe in, but just can't see.<br /><br />I wonder if it will make him feel older, like now he knows something and can share in "what the big people know." It's like...sitting at the with the adults after years at the kids' table. I look forward to his knowing looks when the mention of Santa comes up in conversation. His raised eyebrows that match his older-than-he-really-is soul.<br /><br />By now, the deed is done. I can hear his dad coming down the stairs.<br /><br />My boy is growing up. This is one of those moments when I'm doing a cheer and a sigh at the same time.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-90663868685145912642010-08-08T16:07:00.006-05:002010-08-08T16:46:36.968-05:00Sassy Six-Year-OldAnother birthday is upon us! And although I'd like to make yet another birthday all about <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span> and how much <span style="font-style: italic;">I'm</span> growing up as a momma, I think I should steer this blogpost to a more appropriate subject...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Ellie.<br /></div><br />This beautiful, sassy, smart, silly, full of giggles and wiggles little girl is turning six this week.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaowtJPMd-3-30R0ZkBiIJqE_ugXWfvgO0UB6aTnvMuA2pFCm04hZLBkLf7Jq9XqW3Vv6OJ9z82QlCHsxQjw2Xls7gLajIJ_-6ZYS68g4vaihljbPwVnvWHy5cAUD6rIax2PoUmIESZA0t/s1600/IMG_0540.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaowtJPMd-3-30R0ZkBiIJqE_ugXWfvgO0UB6aTnvMuA2pFCm04hZLBkLf7Jq9XqW3Vv6OJ9z82QlCHsxQjw2Xls7gLajIJ_-6ZYS68g4vaihljbPwVnvWHy5cAUD6rIax2PoUmIESZA0t/s320/IMG_0540.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503155673210328962" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">She takes amazing pictures and loves to find the pretty things around her.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxOaKCPmarC8z9hkfJJj_sZ8LyOLuf3HWpCzNn0Y_LY66OXZIdttd-m_Z6BladSLjOm6PJuNg36IBiMHsnDqNx_3vfYrc85IBzu_ugsVt-vm2dOsOCqZEyMNGvLzYOwOHk_4cmcfPi8vi3/s1600/IMG_0569.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxOaKCPmarC8z9hkfJJj_sZ8LyOLuf3HWpCzNn0Y_LY66OXZIdttd-m_Z6BladSLjOm6PJuNg36IBiMHsnDqNx_3vfYrc85IBzu_ugsVt-vm2dOsOCqZEyMNGvLzYOwOHk_4cmcfPi8vi3/s320/IMG_0569.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503156705679787122" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilgnOnE3GJlcqN1Jm8oBKs9PT0SObU734Mi7oU_DT0EKeFCLuDaEBGeR_uzpiRirmSCOvJ0GDJexXTH4IYb6frQNm9DOdqcO2gyJrtTHv35T3OvF7lWBmBTUHzhd1rjZcVSdYXvmCKLoBP/s1600/IMG_0556.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilgnOnE3GJlcqN1Jm8oBKs9PT0SObU734Mi7oU_DT0EKeFCLuDaEBGeR_uzpiRirmSCOvJ0GDJexXTH4IYb6frQNm9DOdqcO2gyJrtTHv35T3OvF7lWBmBTUHzhd1rjZcVSdYXvmCKLoBP/s320/IMG_0556.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503156691200299506" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2paPd4uA2fmm6RBFODkO6htJjDIVDltDp-WTwNaZEHSHDB0vSf0G1r9VKSs1kUkUc24OsHZ7YZ0DZsDqgdYBJN9rnGr6pgwf361-Ynk7VyC9sw3KCasY3SQshtAs2nBRsYnCphIbwquM4/s1600/IMG_0545.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2paPd4uA2fmm6RBFODkO6htJjDIVDltDp-WTwNaZEHSHDB0vSf0G1r9VKSs1kUkUc24OsHZ7YZ0DZsDqgdYBJN9rnGr6pgwf361-Ynk7VyC9sw3KCasY3SQshtAs2nBRsYnCphIbwquM4/s320/IMG_0545.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503155683820158450" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">She's adventurous and is willing to take some risks,<br />as long as she has a firm grip on a loving hand. Then, after a few tries....she's off!<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XAMSExBk-4g6x48OuFglNqoANQXGKP-FBB39GxnjhX5rUDTPxPOh4gOXmI_REB2mGFfwzTkaMYlLe1m_t2SVp77VKNldQQ3-xB_vYSJARKy0g2bDjOX489tt0LtjTJNRKBCicTSkGUZE/s1600/+e+carey+on+whizzer.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XAMSExBk-4g6x48OuFglNqoANQXGKP-FBB39GxnjhX5rUDTPxPOh4gOXmI_REB2mGFfwzTkaMYlLe1m_t2SVp77VKNldQQ3-xB_vYSJARKy0g2bDjOX489tt0LtjTJNRKBCicTSkGUZE/s320/+e+carey+on+whizzer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503155640790079042" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">She's a reader. I can't wait to see how her imagination will be<br />bolstered by the way she swallows books whole.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Xmvq776FiiD2F1mgYHG5MOBRrCvlBK-GLgJgnkFXgYFIospdNFNlMU0n85vRaHc8KQn5EtVaP9AxcqpWdwGD_Y70-AzlctMyHoHuuQTAaGCWhvWHVdQ12KblFluYWm987mDF7202lPkn/s1600/e+reading.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Xmvq776FiiD2F1mgYHG5MOBRrCvlBK-GLgJgnkFXgYFIospdNFNlMU0n85vRaHc8KQn5EtVaP9AxcqpWdwGD_Y70-AzlctMyHoHuuQTAaGCWhvWHVdQ12KblFluYWm987mDF7202lPkn/s320/e+reading.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503155660254593474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Fw8USnAQOCUoj5aHGlPEkMRmlw7FjUfBiqm3jdoATzhoO7mx3QakW_1U8UsPRrfQ41vEMppBrm_HIPBBL4iuTMODCM1MLh1f2Y0FRQ2L6Y4WqQKp748A3dsfkXH8vZH0MH-RzMm2jMER/s1600/e+easter.jpg"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">She's silly, even wild at times. Her giggles get away from her<br />and there's no turning back until the hiccups arrive.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Fw8USnAQOCUoj5aHGlPEkMRmlw7FjUfBiqm3jdoATzhoO7mx3QakW_1U8UsPRrfQ41vEMppBrm_HIPBBL4iuTMODCM1MLh1f2Y0FRQ2L6Y4WqQKp748A3dsfkXH8vZH0MH-RzMm2jMER/s1600/e+easter.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Fw8USnAQOCUoj5aHGlPEkMRmlw7FjUfBiqm3jdoATzhoO7mx3QakW_1U8UsPRrfQ41vEMppBrm_HIPBBL4iuTMODCM1MLh1f2Y0FRQ2L6Y4WqQKp748A3dsfkXH8vZH0MH-RzMm2jMER/s320/e+easter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503155650412970466" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZIsfxXTOqBulOcWCYCCzyaF4TfCrRJ6N-goAM4bUJ6FmQZ9918FKTrjYCRPFPAEO5Ty-tmnHaoJMLKn4IJnxJ8Mzg9wQEYgZcenfFJxq9yLHiwXK0vatHmViG64qH_WabGUXLPsUT4xr/s1600/j+e+icecream.jpg"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This girl loves her desserts. I'd like to say I have no idea where she got this from, but it's just <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> obvious. Give her chocolate and you have made a friend for life.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZIsfxXTOqBulOcWCYCCzyaF4TfCrRJ6N-goAM4bUJ6FmQZ9918FKTrjYCRPFPAEO5Ty-tmnHaoJMLKn4IJnxJ8Mzg9wQEYgZcenfFJxq9yLHiwXK0vatHmViG64qH_WabGUXLPsUT4xr/s1600/j+e+icecream.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZIsfxXTOqBulOcWCYCCzyaF4TfCrRJ6N-goAM4bUJ6FmQZ9918FKTrjYCRPFPAEO5Ty-tmnHaoJMLKn4IJnxJ8Mzg9wQEYgZcenfFJxq9yLHiwXK0vatHmViG64qH_WabGUXLPsUT4xr/s320/j+e+icecream.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503156726428716834" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTuP80ebtSiSBoe5v0syvL9WUPpDRlAOwLxCNC2wCzWUZyYAcLfik_vy80LBfKM5l36ad8V59CxftpM5Xj0ldMzIn0a7TTvo0krxxzqGcu0vTUas0xAgbPsaYfBTzS6sQ0pNNGX_0XF6ja/s1600/j+o+e+on+tank.jpg"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">One thing is for sure, Ellie loves her brothers. They might tease her and do what all boys do to make girls crazy, but she loves them. She longs for their hugs and tackles. A cuddle on the couch, a goofy smile or a helping hand are all it takes for these three to come together like a little team. And if it were up to her, she'd be the team captain. every. time.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTuP80ebtSiSBoe5v0syvL9WUPpDRlAOwLxCNC2wCzWUZyYAcLfik_vy80LBfKM5l36ad8V59CxftpM5Xj0ldMzIn0a7TTvo0krxxzqGcu0vTUas0xAgbPsaYfBTzS6sQ0pNNGX_0XF6ja/s1600/j+o+e+on+tank.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTuP80ebtSiSBoe5v0syvL9WUPpDRlAOwLxCNC2wCzWUZyYAcLfik_vy80LBfKM5l36ad8V59CxftpM5Xj0ldMzIn0a7TTvo0krxxzqGcu0vTUas0xAgbPsaYfBTzS6sQ0pNNGX_0XF6ja/s320/j+o+e+on+tank.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503156737023189666" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Happy birthday, my dear girl. You amaze us everyday with your imagination,<br />your love and your silly spirit. What a year it will be!<br /></div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-65255174084965709322010-08-04T08:35:00.002-05:002010-08-04T08:43:22.183-05:00Morning Musing(After so many noisy storms, our kids are just tired of them now.)<br /><br /><br />One by one this morning they came,<br />Trembling chins from the thundering rain.<br /><br />"Come on in, and snuggle tight,<br />Everything will be all right."<br /><br />The noises that made you wake so fast,<br />Will move on through...they won't last.<br /><br />A snuggle turned into giggles,<br />Giggles into wiggles.<br /><br />And although the storm continue to roar,<br />We all felt better and didn't think of it anymore.<br /><br />****<br /><br />It's amazing how a mother's look, smile, kiss or touch,<br />Can change a child's perspective so much.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-23298501249635326372010-07-25T17:54:00.001-05:002010-07-25T18:19:15.881-05:00Time's a-flyin'Wow. I haven't posted anything in July and by the end of this week, the month will be long gone.<br /><br />I can't say that I haven't <span style="font-style: italic;">had</span> the time, or even much to <span style="font-style: italic;">say</span>, but I guess I just haven't <span style="font-style: italic;">taken</span> the time to say what's been happening around here. (Although, the kiddos recent uber-interest in the computer means that they have some kinda alarm that must go off in their heads when I sit down at the ol' keyboard~not leaving much time for typing away our life's adventures.)<br /><br />Life is full. Full of busy schedules, get togethers, lazy afternoons in the sun, book reading, party-going and family time. Family time. It was the one thing I longed for during the school year. As the school schedule takes over, life becomes the hamster wheel. We're just peddling to keep up with it.<br /><br />But as summer has relaxed us, we've gotten into slow mornings (think breakfast at 8am instead of 6am), surfing the web for fun videos to watch (think "Phineas and Ferb- Squirrels in my Pants"), and made up games (checkers where the goal is to stack them as high as you can~ the ultimate "king me").<br /><br />Vacations & staycations have been such a blessing for us this year. Thankfully, (with occasional family help), we've been able to do everything from getting a piece of summer at Christmas, swoosh down indoor waterslides, fly over oceans to explore an island, splash to our heart's content in a family pool, spend a whole week at a lake house, and explore nearby parks and playplaces.<br /><br />Trying to sell our house is proving to be a huge lesson in patience for me. Waiting on God's timing is not something this control-freak of a momma is used to. But it's good. It's a life lesson. It's a chance for us to step back and really find out what matters to us.<br /><br />This summertime we've had at home has also given me a chance to get to know my kids all over again. Not that I didn't know them during the school year, but now, with time - extended time, I can watch them, talk with them and really listen to what they are saying to me, to each other. Oh, the things I've learned. Josh is growing up super fast. Ellie's world is growing through books and a more curious mind than she's previously showed us. Owen. Well, Owen is learning a lot of from his siblings. Some good, some not-so-good. But, still, he's growing and developing this crazy sense of humor that will do him well some day. In a way, I look forward to our days alone when the kids go back to school.<br /><br />So, in a nutshell. Family time. That's what we've been up to.<br /><br />It's been such a different summer than any we've had before and I'm so glad it's not over yet.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIgVBlphAIfQ6V04lZNo5q-5QKXrcPLWds0YNze-TErLayA_zjMzk_6EHn_ewv6odpe9IIeNCkrFeJ1RbG8qOtnvHqxC2ZoRfMDsw_2A6aPi9qDEKIDrI_QPnyq3ALdYpahfQylXlUdCB/s1600/IMG_0675.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIgVBlphAIfQ6V04lZNo5q-5QKXrcPLWds0YNze-TErLayA_zjMzk_6EHn_ewv6odpe9IIeNCkrFeJ1RbG8qOtnvHqxC2ZoRfMDsw_2A6aPi9qDEKIDrI_QPnyq3ALdYpahfQylXlUdCB/s320/IMG_0675.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497986944527902354" border="0" /></a>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-87372079197344957962010-06-28T14:43:00.003-05:002010-06-28T15:06:39.848-05:00Summer Reading: Lesson in Gender Differences<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNm69fGXnTBIP4iQ2jgwgRasXq-CWl6yIUuIIozdSTCdpkjmYBOFkY7WAq8RjTo9tw9Sn3GocJdkP6vjsNpicApopdZ_n6GI-vUPxlWnZ9NgMtpqc0LC4mFcpfGcdtbWDWjQhk8ucxwbqX/s1600/IMG_0292.jpg"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">A difference between boys and girls:<br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHvVMsF6c2QiuEl6Jyz658lc7Xqnhl1XTbSu-ycOXPMcmtG4R_uN5QEtiOHhC3Kz31as5GU8Aw7FTh6yj5GdDJ8cFK2v1PduzKoxjn-KMfE32fAHO8p4PqBekavBMNJ1qRrcx7PufUPM6/s1600/IMG_0294.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHvVMsF6c2QiuEl6Jyz658lc7Xqnhl1XTbSu-ycOXPMcmtG4R_uN5QEtiOHhC3Kz31as5GU8Aw7FTh6yj5GdDJ8cFK2v1PduzKoxjn-KMfE32fAHO8p4PqBekavBMNJ1qRrcx7PufUPM6/s320/IMG_0294.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487914084846044018" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Got back from the library this morning and Ellie absolutely <span style="font-style: italic;">devoured</span> her books. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ahh</span>. I love my little reader.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNm69fGXnTBIP4iQ2jgwgRasXq-CWl6yIUuIIozdSTCdpkjmYBOFkY7WAq8RjTo9tw9Sn3GocJdkP6vjsNpicApopdZ_n6GI-vUPxlWnZ9NgMtpqc0LC4mFcpfGcdtbWDWjQhk8ucxwbqX/s1600/IMG_0292.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNm69fGXnTBIP4iQ2jgwgRasXq-CWl6yIUuIIozdSTCdpkjmYBOFkY7WAq8RjTo9tw9Sn3GocJdkP6vjsNpicApopdZ_n6GI-vUPxlWnZ9NgMtpqc0LC4mFcpfGcdtbWDWjQhk8ucxwbqX/s320/IMG_0292.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487914092198769666" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Josh, on the other hand, had to be convinced to sit and read, but the vulture book he checked out is turned out to be filled with ultra-cool grossness. (Did you know that vultures throw up on other animals to keep them away from their own meal? I'm seeing distinct similarities between them and mealtimes when our kiddos were in the eat-and-puke-it-up stage.)<br /></div><br /><br /><br />Owen just thought it was keen to get his very own library card. In true boy fashion, he quickly discovered it could make "tooting" sounds when he held it to his mouth and blew. (no picture for this one, the hilarity that ensued from this was enough to make me forget to snap a memory)<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br />* * * * *<br /><br /></div>Summer reading should be interesting this season. I'm desperately trying to take my own teacher advice and get the kids reading at least 15 minutes each day. As a bonus, it's been a nice (quiet) way for Owen to be willing to take a nap. When the house is buzzing with only the sounds of pages turning, it's easier for him to lay his active little body down for some much needed shut-eye. I have been thrilled to have my own opportunity to read and catch up on some books that have been shelved for the school year. Currently, a biography on Julia Child has been a fun way for me to get used to reading for fun again. I look forward to trying some of the recommendations from friends who carve out time for book clubs during the school year and other suggestions from various sources. <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ahh</span>. Bring on the reading. Bring on summer!<br /></div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-87669820545263422392010-06-26T15:26:00.004-05:002010-06-26T15:41:16.059-05:00It's gone!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmfazgpJxmoeIKmCqKAa1yGbJ8LvMzOdtdbnz5dvQkgtrj0cWuUwISq3K-hY-KhQEUl8zqBHkQo97XDbdAI-7VLuf5GwrThQgG20orMwJHlDDltYbJCBWg-mWD-ZAS9L_LZqpvaRUwlDvZ/s1600/IMG_0264.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmfazgpJxmoeIKmCqKAa1yGbJ8LvMzOdtdbnz5dvQkgtrj0cWuUwISq3K-hY-KhQEUl8zqBHkQo97XDbdAI-7VLuf5GwrThQgG20orMwJHlDDltYbJCBWg-mWD-ZAS9L_LZqpvaRUwlDvZ/s320/IMG_0264.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487182376824782770" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Yep, it's gone.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileormj5M-mjsbpmSk17XfRtBfDKdjVVVHiVhoeph1nQIkajxchdZNiBZKvn7JN7VbtUYdADuCuryh_jQZ1XFzOrPxtECYvfBao20Rss8uA8RelQNUuFjB08zoczkKKgl_AbmGe9x_guZk/s1600/IMG_0266.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileormj5M-mjsbpmSk17XfRtBfDKdjVVVHiVhoeph1nQIkajxchdZNiBZKvn7JN7VbtUYdADuCuryh_jQZ1XFzOrPxtECYvfBao20Rss8uA8RelQNUuFjB08zoczkKKgl_AbmGe9x_guZk/s320/IMG_0266.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487182385470486258" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">It held on by a teeny thread as long as it could.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUbL0Uc2L7v1m4rJg9TveJRqE6u91kSUag3gfx7AP7UfwU6GvUxaJoD783uGavIE2EmOrSInCHLG9iLVB9uLlcjxQkLyJSsncct-IhIjy5SPd0IoLukRvPu9vce5n0VcDbh25SkaKmHvq/s1600/IMG_0268.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUbL0Uc2L7v1m4rJg9TveJRqE6u91kSUag3gfx7AP7UfwU6GvUxaJoD783uGavIE2EmOrSInCHLG9iLVB9uLlcjxQkLyJSsncct-IhIjy5SPd0IoLukRvPu9vce5n0VcDbh25SkaKmHvq/s320/IMG_0268.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487182392491923618" border="0" /></a><br />But the power of a sibling who has "been there, done that" prevailed.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitqxfZ0oPPthEkbluvciuA1ypg0JLyOV2fCKalOVP4dIKCeCSDt7qVgpHGNLlU3we9p13dojsz1wFJ3DfXmQcV9mQ6ZWEKWwKhwnECeT7W2dn6hWaD1G3-mIdHl4wavEBXItt4Ik63sjIi/s1600/IMG_0269.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitqxfZ0oPPthEkbluvciuA1ypg0JLyOV2fCKalOVP4dIKCeCSDt7qVgpHGNLlU3we9p13dojsz1wFJ3DfXmQcV9mQ6ZWEKWwKhwnECeT7W2dn6hWaD1G3-mIdHl4wavEBXItt4Ik63sjIi/s320/IMG_0269.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487182396320028482" border="0" /></a><br />Now, we wait for the Tooth Fairy!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM20FiNoqThrFdstFoRR3ttkl8bbxWqJXfiIw_JGfS25xM1LXUX-kCRPqykCkhSORpToU9Q659qA7UQEeM7Ad9har1ky3GNr0xVPQ-54kXUnAS05Ez_-3zy0m36pexC6z3oj6UMOgApl8D/s1600/IMG_0271.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM20FiNoqThrFdstFoRR3ttkl8bbxWqJXfiIw_JGfS25xM1LXUX-kCRPqykCkhSORpToU9Q659qA7UQEeM7Ad9har1ky3GNr0xVPQ-54kXUnAS05Ez_-3zy0m36pexC6z3oj6UMOgApl8D/s320/IMG_0271.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487182412627229970" border="0" /></a><br />Her little tooth will be waiting in this uber-cute tooth pillow made by her Aunt Sarah. Isn't it adorable?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5F677c7E6YlEkpiXfmMpq9n9-g8N18CRxuC4kX8yCpxfU0NJq1cr_7plnlBybHCEFeJqS3ak29OziZ6klv8EzJQvJgaA8FN9xwQ5DEDrdnPc12BhhcrWg9yaOkulBQWJfr5OJ8Fd_l38/s1600/IMG_0274.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5F677c7E6YlEkpiXfmMpq9n9-g8N18CRxuC4kX8yCpxfU0NJq1cr_7plnlBybHCEFeJqS3ak29OziZ6klv8EzJQvJgaA8FN9xwQ5DEDrdnPc12BhhcrWg9yaOkulBQWJfr5OJ8Fd_l38/s320/IMG_0274.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487184982272133522" border="0" /></a></div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-80679465386210789712010-06-20T09:12:00.001-05:002010-06-20T09:12:00.254-05:00The coolest guy I know.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5CfygDwX_FGy2gBX3hXZDc-nqAtQ-WW_AyodPpLmBjKqrTrqa-Eid3m32YIbytPFdGg9mPkAEU5BsTN0jJvjexe-yevP3GpJqTIojY5SlOFOK-XKbYR38TH9hTu4o5FgPR51FtghxaSoD/s1600/IMG_0056.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5CfygDwX_FGy2gBX3hXZDc-nqAtQ-WW_AyodPpLmBjKqrTrqa-Eid3m32YIbytPFdGg9mPkAEU5BsTN0jJvjexe-yevP3GpJqTIojY5SlOFOK-XKbYR38TH9hTu4o5FgPR51FtghxaSoD/s320/IMG_0056.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483559996408714674" border="0" /></a><br />This man has surprised me. (Not the cute little one with a cheese-mo smile, but the bigger cuter one with a smile that makes me melt. Still.)<br /><br />Eight years ago this man celebrated his first Father's day. I'm not sure that was on the top of his "cool things I'd like to celebrate" list when he was young. If he doesn't mind me sayin' so. But he's surprised me. And, most likely, himself, too.<br /><br />He wrestles. He kisses owies. He cuddles. He listens to little ones read. He takes them on adventures...anywhere he goes. Seriously, this man can make a trip to the grocery store with three kids in tow an adventure. He makes them laugh. Hard. I think he's the only one who can get Ellie to giggle so that soon we're all laughing. He builds with them. He teaches them about fishin' and other cool guy stuff. He runs. He plays. <br /><br />And, he loves me, like no one ever could, which shows them more than a novel could ever tell them about how to love each other. <br /><br />So, to the man who has grown into an amazing father...I love you and those little ones who look up to you everyday, love you, too!<br /><br />Happy Father's Day, Dear.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-67309519023049769902010-06-16T21:28:00.002-05:002010-06-16T21:30:10.858-05:00Popsicles....it's SO summertime!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguWvjbzMUMRShIgUDLlbrViNlJXXZ_YK161cll36RRyKGrD-_aAqTRqJNIH5wVdqO481vfamJic3gWMytzeZ0NhD00CKph0gk5OauwZjH0L1LinaxDobYEHDgKUvFoeFsSx3b9i9fbn8Qf/s1600/IMG_0161.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinCxY4OL0l3gercYdvlrCpB4WKg9DkKjqW5O2G3rtdjqC7fvOUoEdDljRSvG10aNJRDQPPKgwDsFItiaLhXdYjrn36xwoOyT2UElDn_pCJo1WDMOYwT9AimZCFhDpjMBGjJYcO0FSn2V6f/s1600/IMG_0155.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinCxY4OL0l3gercYdvlrCpB4WKg9DkKjqW5O2G3rtdjqC7fvOUoEdDljRSvG10aNJRDQPPKgwDsFItiaLhXdYjrn36xwoOyT2UElDn_pCJo1WDMOYwT9AimZCFhDpjMBGjJYcO0FSn2V6f/s320/IMG_0155.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483564146834039986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM21_G7ddDy8f-t1AkgPnuaOBmaZsBVYnJSOWyzOmrHly3PK87kWn5kFDBD3LdgCN-68-RGm8-pz9rJ1VXLKHnC6e6Qj45PRyBclgBT0XTeVufgDnubsYltSFvoo65r9Pa_puPwiyP0kog/s1600/IMG_0154.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM21_G7ddDy8f-t1AkgPnuaOBmaZsBVYnJSOWyzOmrHly3PK87kWn5kFDBD3LdgCN-68-RGm8-pz9rJ1VXLKHnC6e6Qj45PRyBclgBT0XTeVufgDnubsYltSFvoo65r9Pa_puPwiyP0kog/s320/IMG_0154.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483564132250522786" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguWvjbzMUMRShIgUDLlbrViNlJXXZ_YK161cll36RRyKGrD-_aAqTRqJNIH5wVdqO481vfamJic3gWMytzeZ0NhD00CKph0gk5OauwZjH0L1LinaxDobYEHDgKUvFoeFsSx3b9i9fbn8Qf/s1600/IMG_0161.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguWvjbzMUMRShIgUDLlbrViNlJXXZ_YK161cll36RRyKGrD-_aAqTRqJNIH5wVdqO481vfamJic3gWMytzeZ0NhD00CKph0gk5OauwZjH0L1LinaxDobYEHDgKUvFoeFsSx3b9i9fbn8Qf/s320/IMG_0161.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483564154456061890" border="0" /></a>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-523160617687016102010-04-18T20:08:00.003-05:002010-04-18T20:43:49.538-05:00SignsApparently, I have my mother's hands.<br /><br />When I was young, church was not the most interesting place for me. No fault to the pastor or for my parent's lack of trying, I was just easily distracted. The windows, what was outside the windows, the hymnals, the ceiling, basically anything that caught my eye could pass the time for at least a few minutes. Once a spider making it's way down the aisle drew quite a bit of attention for me and a few other young ones. Throughout the seasons, I had one favorite distraction.<br /><br />My mother's hands.<br /><br />My mother had, and still does, I think, have beautiful hands. An odd thing, yes, but still, very true. Her long fingers and the rings that were displayed on them were often looked to as a church distraction for me. I'd watch her diamond sparkle, fantasizing about my very own one day. When she played the piano, those long fingers moved deftly between the keys. Her nails were always kept relatively short, but were smooth, rarely painted. My first lasting memories of her are centered around the time she was pregnant with my youngest brother. She was about thirty-five at the time.<br /><br />She was never one to spend a lot of time on herself, either from lack of time or the fact that she was brought up to not focus on "spoiling" yourself. And yet, her hands, and arms were always soft, gentle and yet, strong. I loved them.<br /><br />As I sat in church the other day, still prone to some time of distraction, I began to give Josh a back scratch as he leaned forward in the pew. I looked at my hand. It was familiar, of course, but instantly, I was brought back to the old pew where I had once been.<br /><br />My own hands have changed dramatically over time. Diapers, dinners, winters, summers, games, cleaning and age all have had their way with my hands. More wrinkled than I had remembered them recently, my first thought was, "Dude, I need moisturize these babies more!" And then I thought... they looked like hers. The way I remember them. Maybe not perfect in the world's standards, but beautiful, just the same.<br /><br />As I thought more about it, I think what really triggered that memory, was the other reason why I liked her hands. She used those slightly wrinkled hands to give us those gentle touches that let us know we were loved. Back scratches in church were just one way of many that we <span style="font-style: italic;">felt</span> the love she didn't always find time to <span style="font-style: italic;">say</span> with words. Allowing us to examine her hands, hold them, squish the skin to watch to pop back into place...all ways to show us it we were loved.<br /><br />There was an odd "full-circle" feeling to that moment in church. A recognition of what my mother did to show us love, but also, that here I was, where she had been, so many years ago, doing the same thing: Taking my family to church, showing love to my son through touch and seeing my own hands become my mother's hands.<br /><br />I wonder if she ever had that same moment.<br /><br />I have a feeling I am in for many more of those "look where life has taken me" times ahead. It's good to know that the road I travel is not one that is unpaved, or at least, untrodden. Motherhood truly is a journey. I guess one whose roads often come around the same bend every so often.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-58958235583232446242010-04-18T19:55:00.005-05:002010-04-23T11:29:44.194-05:00Happy Birthday, Owen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMZOk9-YwdeABfL6IzYx07eRA0u7NUFnX4iVimalljtSoNdQlM0mRcP7HSbXaE6561Kg67ZGrsJLlqepa6rxbkhTE-ImxHa_H79NPhQaq3VFvD2Cyd7iwWEBpy5Sp0WuyDM1ijeCz-tgu/s1600/owen-zoo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMZOk9-YwdeABfL6IzYx07eRA0u7NUFnX4iVimalljtSoNdQlM0mRcP7HSbXaE6561Kg67ZGrsJLlqepa6rxbkhTE-ImxHa_H79NPhQaq3VFvD2Cyd7iwWEBpy5Sp0WuyDM1ijeCz-tgu/s320/owen-zoo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463370817392582818" border="0" /></a><br />My little guy is three.<br /><br />He has many-a-nickname...<br /><br /><ul><li>Mr. 3 (being child #3 and now age 3, this has many applications)<br /></li><li>Dude (as in, "Dude, WHAT are you doing? Promptly followed by, "I unknow?")</li><li>Little Man</li><li>Owie (a cousin favorite)</li><li>Eyebrows (just ask him to show you his eyebrows...he's like a trick pony with this one)<br /></li><li>Captain Awesome (aptly named because of his overuse of this word...often said after he's hurtled through space with his tongue out, striking some funky pose, crashing into the ground)<br /></li><li>The boy who will bring us to the emergency room someday. (this week's bloody nose is just a small indication, methinks)</li></ul><br />Whatever we call him, one thing is for sure. This boys brings us all pure joy. From birth this little guy has had the same amazing attitude: tackle life without reservations, add a smile and all will be well.<br /><br />I love it, envy it and occasionally try to reign it in when it seems it might get the best of him. He'll learn some things the hard way, like his sister and he'll charm his way through the rest, like his brother.<br /><br />I can't wait to see what this next year will bring.<br /><br />I love ya, buddy.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-47387045909921100182010-02-01T17:51:00.007-06:002010-02-01T20:12:18.663-06:00Happy Birthday, Josh<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Eight years ago today, I became a mom for the first time. I had no idea what I was getting into. It's been one amazing ride. Thankfully, one that is not over yet.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I'm not a overly sentimental mom (you should see how quickly I get the cute kiddo-created art projects flying outta this place), but this birthday has me on a wind of nostalgia. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Last night I regaled the family with story of Josh's birth.<br /><br />The anticipation... the patience I needed while he seemingly decided to set up camp in my uterus for the near future...the induction date set and then pushed back even one </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >more</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"> day while all those mommies' babies came into the world because of a local snowstorm (who knew the weather influenced birth?....apparently, not Josh!)...and then, finally, seeing him for the first time.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Remembering the details, talking about how each baby was different, was so good for me. I remembered how small and precious they were when we first saw them. Their size has changed, but not how precious they are to us. I caught myself getting that far-off look on my face like a goofy soap opera star. These children have changed my life in ways I couldn't anticipate. Encouraging, and challenging. Uplifting, and humbling. (all within a few minutes of each other)</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I've been a mom for more than half our married life now. Life on our own is already a distant memory. But we still remember those days, too. I even get that silly wistful look on my face, too.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Happy Birthday, Josh.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJ4XAZbn7F2rvfIVuc5gSf4PW6vFRK6ilwNrvzDXjk173ltqnpMuhHV4ZRufCLK_BttrgW50o6mQHlAA7YVBl5TxXvVwB3M04jsHZL7P7qqv3a4CJWguXMnRhZRw_nvAT8mmz2BDwnE6h/s1600-h/josh+%26+mom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJ4XAZbn7F2rvfIVuc5gSf4PW6vFRK6ilwNrvzDXjk173ltqnpMuhHV4ZRufCLK_BttrgW50o6mQHlAA7YVBl5TxXvVwB3M04jsHZL7P7qqv3a4CJWguXMnRhZRw_nvAT8mmz2BDwnE6h/s320/josh+%26+mom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433462848143331522" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;font-size:100%;" >Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. ~From the television show <i>The Wonder Years</i></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-82465515903785126442009-12-23T13:12:00.005-06:002009-12-23T14:38:47.864-06:00Top Ten of 2009Wow, I guess it's been awhile since I posted here. Life is busy.<br /><br />In my annual attempt to remember the excitement here at the Party of Five, with full knowledge that I am not as young as I used to be and therefore, not retaining memories as well....<br /><br />The Top Ten of 2009: (sans pictures....computer crash ate all my pictures!)<br /><br />10. Owen turned 2! This little boy brings a smile to my face any time of the day. Even when he's mad, he's cute. He's learned some interesting catch phrases, "Oh, no, he di-nt!" (complete with hand gestures) is one of my favorites. His laugh is infectious and I'm grateful he still likes to cuddle and let me kiss his cubby little cheeks!<br /><br />2010 goal: Potty training and trying <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> to imitate everything that his sibs do.<br /><br />9. Ellie turned 5. And went to Kindergarten. All Day. Everyday. It was a well-prayed for decision and we're happy to say she loves it. Loves her teacher, her friends, the bus and even her "homework." She's still gets tired and I'm beginning to realize she might need some wellness days off occasionally. But all in all, she is surprising me everyday by the things she learns, remembers and is interested in. Her birthday itself came and went fairly quietly, as I'm afraid it will too often (a birthday right before school starts is tricky!), but, thankfully she still young enough not to remember! (shh..don't tell!)<br /><br />2010 goal: honesty, a calm spirit in the face of conflict and a way to harness her creativity (which usually ends up on the walls, table or any other surface besides paper).<br /><br />8. Josh will be 8 in February. Although this isn't an event in 2009 technically, we're already thinking about it. (having a birthday a month after Christmas is tough...wait I'm noticing a pattern here). He is an excellent student, so full of energy and a real interest for all things family. He's our tradition-tracker, making sure that we've remembered "family night" and any other activity that keeps up hangin' together as a party of five.<br /><br />2010 goal: Find out what to do when things are hard for you and continuing your talents in sports (we're so proud!).<br /><br />7. Family nights have been our refuge. We've endured some interesting weeks, ones where we lacked serious family time and Friday nights have come to the rescue. The Red.box is our cheap family entertainer. We intersperse our nights with some game nights as well, knowing that our ultra-competitive first-born will most likely end up in tears if he doesn't win. We've had to say "no" to Bible study this fall, so we could keep our sanity, and also refocus our priority to the five of us. So many good memories have been had, snuggled up on the couch with a good movie, chomping on popcorn, and chatting about our favorite scenes, lines and characters. We miss our adult friends, but know that this time is fleeting and we're just trying to hold on as long as we can.<br /><br />2010 goal: Find the balance between time with family and time with friends.<br /><br />6. New niece and nephew. Oh how fun it is to rejoice with family on the birth of new babies! Ashlee was born in January and Andrew was born in June. These little ones are a joy to hold (and give back!). I think about how wonderful it is that our extended families are expanding. Each niece and nephew has their own distinct personality and I love seeing us all together. It reminds me of how much fun I had with my cousins when we were young.<br /><br />2010 goal: Keep updated on what the little ones are doing (big and small ones!)<br /><br />5. My knee surgery. Ugg. If there is one thing that will bring you back to reality it's a health crisis. You find who you can depend on, and who depends on you. As any busy mom will say, it is very difficult to take time for yourself. This forced me to stop and take time to rest. If this was a test on how well I could handle chronic illness, I can't say that say that I passed. No flying colors here. But, the support of my amazing husband and the surprising assistance and independence of my kids was a silver lining in an otherwise dismal situation. I am happy to report that I can run, play and move without thinking about my knee and it's month-long recovery in June. <br /><br />2010 goal: Get strong so that this will become a distant memory. <br /><br />4. 14 years of marriage. I have only recently realized what an amazing man that I am walking this life journey with. I run out of superlatives to describe how he supports our marriage, our family and our church. I'd add more, but some things are best said just to the ones we love.<br /><br />2010 goal: Celebrate 15 years with an amazing man in an amazing place (hopefully!)<br /><br />3. I sang in front of a crowd. This is one of those "Bucket List" items. It was my cousin's wedding and it was a silly song, but ~ I sang. People laughed (at the words, I hope) and I can proudly cross this one off the list. 2010 goal: Who knows!<br /><br />2. A recharging trip to DC. After a month long recovery from my knee surgery, the hubs and I went to our nation's capitol to celebrate his cousin's wedding. Without kids. It was glorious. We did some sight seeing, reminding me of the fact we need to head back there some day with our kids. We did some laughing, reminding me that life is funny. No matter how sad it may seem some days. And we danced. On a rooftop. With young people who probably don't even remember the 'Macarena'. Reminding me that life can be a party like none other. Instead of feeling old and hobbled, I was able to boogie in the open air, with my oh-so-groovy dance partner for life.<br /><br /> 2010 goal: Dance more, laugh more, get out and go places!<br /><br />1. In some ways, it was an uneventful year. In other ways, I should be blogging every other minute about the wacky, happy, sad, eventful happenings of our little Party of Five. But, I think that in all that happened this year (big and small), I saw that my Savior is the one with His hands on the controls. He saved us when He saw fit, He held us when we cried, and He danced along with us when joy overflowed. <br /><br />2010 goal: Lean on Him for everything. Everything.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!<br /></div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-17979499477602809302009-08-27T14:47:00.003-05:002009-08-27T15:01:53.029-05:00AntsSince the end of last spring we have had ants in our kitchen and eating area. On and off throughout the summer, I warred with these little buggers. We had weeks where they were a distant memory and then, they would reappear. I even got the kids so fired up, that their "alarms" would go off and the sounds of children screaming, "ANTS!" would sound through the house. Even Owen gets into it. I'd come around the corner to find them, nose to the ground, squishing these invaders to oblivion. (And then we washed our hands *wink*) <br /><br />Although this is not a family pastime that I would like to continue, it has been a good way for us to fight off a common foe and see how we handle frustrating situations. I cleaned like a mad woman, even putting off breakfast one morning to practically hose down the kitchen. I was diligent in my efforts, but they seemed to always find some other avenue for finding miscellaneous food. My kitchen has never been cleaner, and yet, they come. <br /><br />But these ants. In the midst of calling them an assortment of colorful names (in my head, of course), I began to admire them. They're tenacious, single-minded in their purpose, and are not swayed by the occasional obstacle. Heaven knows that I could use some of their stamina, drive and even flexibility.<br /><br />What I don't need is their presence in my kitchen.<br /><br />Who knew that a small insect held such deep insight?<br /><br /><br />Ps. I've used a variety of products, which work <span style="font-style: italic;">for a while</span>. Now, I'm glad to say that having the Orkin man for a neighbor is good thing.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-68641770806750058862009-08-27T14:25:00.004-05:002009-08-27T14:46:57.688-05:00Happy Birthday, Grandpa!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtdF0RPkl6VxQ0-ED_XTpuWIOiJTtq43TCtTEQItH3x_DRaB294AMBPrhftkcPaMt2OVn5n0EuUN0WdO3KUT-S6iH_c9g8T4NnV7Bdm-TPkWyb6jyr48CVG816zx9lm6thTXRPXWX0DsQ/s1600-h/IMG_5907.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtdF0RPkl6VxQ0-ED_XTpuWIOiJTtq43TCtTEQItH3x_DRaB294AMBPrhftkcPaMt2OVn5n0EuUN0WdO3KUT-S6iH_c9g8T4NnV7Bdm-TPkWyb6jyr48CVG816zx9lm6thTXRPXWX0DsQ/s320/IMG_5907.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374731486597737346" border="0" /></a><br />My Dad turned 60 recently. A few months before that my Mom did the same. They also celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary in June of this year. Which means that they got married when they were 20 years old. Just like me.<br /><br />In preparation for making their anniversary video I looked through hundreds of photos of them throughout the years. It was amazing. I began to see my parents in a different way. I saw photos of them goofing with other young newly married couples, taking cute new-baby pictures, growing as a family, and posing in many wonderful vacation spots.<br /><br />And it looked familiar.<br /><br />Not just because I was in some of the photos (and certainly I had a whoosh of memories because of them), but because it looked like <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> life. Even though I sometimes believe that they have no idea what I'm talking about, I was quickly reminded that....They lived it and they survived. True, many things have changed over time in the way of child-raising and marriage roles, but in it's essence, they lived the life I live now.<br /><br />In a way, it encouraged me to seek out opportunities for them to revel in this next stage of their lives...grandparenting. Even though they have been grandparents for over 7 years now, I want this to be one of the more enjoyable times of their lives. I love seeing them with their grandkids. My dad is right there on the floor with them, rolling around, laughing, teasing, and makin' noise. My mom is sweet and affectionate to them, always ready to sit and read them a book that she's read a hundred times before.<br /><br />It's great to see them leap into this stage. To see them embrace the joys and sorrows of seeing their own kids raise kids. To see them envision a bright future for our family, one that includes a whole lot more birthdays, anniveraries and celebrations. <br /><br />Happy Birthday, Mom and Dad. Here's to many more years together!<br /><br /><br />Ps. Here's a picture of the cake I made. Yes, I am loving my new cake pan and finding any excuse to use it!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuSqSwOwnZf7wdB0WN99Inb0_C2Pfl0BUjXIZ07ubGjhsp3OTbFHmmYOIakFwBmUXV677o0hEIn33waUc3mKEMOyg2dbziRsE_w5O1Y9aC9Po9bmpcLjKKsfimDxJcQGkbX3OTRUdfcEu/s1600-h/IMG_5906.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuSqSwOwnZf7wdB0WN99Inb0_C2Pfl0BUjXIZ07ubGjhsp3OTbFHmmYOIakFwBmUXV677o0hEIn33waUc3mKEMOyg2dbziRsE_w5O1Y9aC9Po9bmpcLjKKsfimDxJcQGkbX3OTRUdfcEu/s320/IMG_5906.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374731494886748546" border="0" /></a>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-30987422917323731082009-08-21T14:00:00.004-05:002009-08-21T14:05:12.312-05:00Garden Goodness<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I came around the corner of the house and saw this:<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsRZbjbEYi18QmMA6Rfl75fArXCBqaNBR-3DxwTX7HGvuT-voci_gJILb7LbmSYaXdV5XPUBR3NPgnzD3BigBil1MSFG0JyYZFj-_sX-i0h79J9F-Az_Hv9d6ue-Zlt2-ejIk9yNBSZvt5/s1600-h/IMG_5869.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsRZbjbEYi18QmMA6Rfl75fArXCBqaNBR-3DxwTX7HGvuT-voci_gJILb7LbmSYaXdV5XPUBR3NPgnzD3BigBil1MSFG0JyYZFj-_sX-i0h79J9F-Az_Hv9d6ue-Zlt2-ejIk9yNBSZvt5/s320/IMG_5869.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372494525526776194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Then the first words I thought of were these:<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">God is great. God is good. Now we thank him for this food.<br /><br />Amen.</span><br /><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrI_OawKOuuZfoxnutImjlFkVUlxFJqDtu-yp_7MWxtEg6RxPagw7sj50ms8LpQfi7i0VOaBLmvnPhA0z4R-RUve5kUsfT3O090gv7Em7o5_9t3HbfyC97FkmdhxQRiJZUi_CjDOchfwN/s1600-h/IMG_5872.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrI_OawKOuuZfoxnutImjlFkVUlxFJqDtu-yp_7MWxtEg6RxPagw7sj50ms8LpQfi7i0VOaBLmvnPhA0z4R-RUve5kUsfT3O090gv7Em7o5_9t3HbfyC97FkmdhxQRiJZUi_CjDOchfwN/s320/IMG_5872.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372494534868180402" border="0" /></a>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-73652156717497118902009-08-14T21:08:00.002-05:002009-08-14T21:24:25.685-05:00Another birthday cake attempt...Ellie turned five this week. Five. Years. Old. Kindergarten is on the horizon. School bus ride. Backpack filled with papers. Everyday. All day. <br /><br />I have no real concerns for her as she starts this venture. Ellie is a spunky girl who knows her mind and what she likes. She has two brothers and she holds her own whenever the "love" they show her is beyond what a girl can handle. She makes friends easily and has an imagination that puts Dr. Suess to shame. I love so much about her, and I can't wait to see what this year brings. And although I've got mostly cliches to describe her at this moment, something tells me that she'll find some poetic words someday to tell stories about her mother made crazy cakes for birthdays every year.<br /><br />I'm not sure what drives me to attempt these cakes. I'm not a very good baker, let alone a steady hand at anything remotely detail-oriented. I have little patience for most projects that don't have a definite result in a relatively short amount of time.<br /><br /> But maybe that's it. <br /><br />It's a labor of love. It's a challenge for me. And I know they love it. I love the part where we snuggle up in a chair and discuss all the possibilities. How each idea represents a part of them, at this moment in time. When the idea is finally chosen, colors decided, frosting and cake mixes bought (oh yes, bought), I get to make something. Make something for them. Something that is all their own...before we cut it up and devour it's sugary goodness.<br /><br />So here it is. The latest installment in the birthday cake making years. It's not perfect, but it's a cake made with love. And pink frosting. She'll love it.<br /><br /><br />Happy Birthday, Elle Belle.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFSa4GdkKEQ_gR2B50OZJwyiZEC2p10BIVRgXzltuNWhc1W84E1RTj8mkL5CqHHtcfGZm_UJ3c_ezZvwpI7F-zcXdVO0hGqJrb6WzOvHoelWlJIkcjyzNNZ-XZ8a25MOhw9wj7hjFF6nf/s1600-h/ellie+cake+09.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFSa4GdkKEQ_gR2B50OZJwyiZEC2p10BIVRgXzltuNWhc1W84E1RTj8mkL5CqHHtcfGZm_UJ3c_ezZvwpI7F-zcXdVO0hGqJrb6WzOvHoelWlJIkcjyzNNZ-XZ8a25MOhw9wj7hjFF6nf/s320/ellie+cake+09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370006897525881010" border="0" /></a><br />Ps. Big thanks to Aub and Paul for finding this great cake pan at a garage sale and donating it to the cause.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-57931466558193177972009-05-01T19:04:00.005-05:002009-05-01T19:36:06.458-05:00Landmark PurchaseAs a young lady, there were many landmark purchases that signaled momentous occasions, or the passing from one stage in life to another. The first clothes purchase with money earned on your own. The mortifying trip to your local department store to buy your first bra. With your mother. Who smiled the whole time, like she was thinking, "you have no idea what you're getting into." Of course, there are similar necessity purchases that coincide with a certain time of the month. Those get easier as time goes on. Purchases like a wedding dress and clothes for the honeymoon elicit a bit more excitement and fonder memories to be sure.<div><br /></div><div>As a mom, I've had even more landmark purchases. My first pack of onesies as I registered for all things baby while I was pregnant with Josh brought tears to my eyes ("will it really be that small?"). Diapers were a drudgery, but the purchase of special undies as that first one made the leap from diapers to boyhood was just as thrilling for me as it was for him. Of course, the first few copays at the doctor when your little one gets sick, bumps his head or needs shots make their mark in your memory as well. Soon your kiddos grow. They get into various extracurricular activities and you're quickly on your way to purchasing all manner of sports equipment. Before you've pumped up the first soccer ball, you notice your garage is being engulfed by all kinds of balls, bikes, trikes and spikes (shoes, that is). </div><div><br /></div><div>But my latest purchase is one I did not expect.</div><div><br /></div><div>I bought Josh's first sport's cup.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll assume you all know what I'm talking about. But maybe I shouldn't as my story will soon show.</div><div><br /></div><div>He needs one for baseball this year. "It's not required," the Coach said, "but <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">my</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span>son will be wearing one." (read: "If you care whether or not you have grandchildren someday, you better get yourself to the store, momma.")</div><div><br /></div><div>So I went. Checked the under.wear aisle with no luck. (I have to preface this to say that it had already been a frustrating morning and wandering around me.ijer looking for a boys' peep protector was not getting me through my list as fast I would like.) So I got the guts to ask a nearby saleslady for help. (I can only say that this moment is probably tantamount to a man asking someone where he could locate the tam.pon aisle.) </div><div><br /></div><div>She didn't know what I was talking about. </div><div><br /></div><div>I tried to describe what a cup was without sounding like a pervert or snickering. Then she whips out her walkie-talkie. I began to panic. Is she calling for help? Will there be that embarrassing announcement relaying the need for a young boys' althletic supporter? Will a crowd gather as we all try to figure out where this mystery object is located...until I finally scream, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">It's to protect his peep and my future grandchildren</span>!"?</div><div><br /></div><div>Deep breath.</div><div><br /></div><div>I further explained that it was for sports. AHH! Then we should look in the sports section, she says. Ok, thanks, I'll be on my way, then. I walk away. She follows. I wasn't sure if she followed out of sheer curiosity, or out of some customer service obligation, but I could have done without the escort.</div><div><br /></div><div>We found it. The way it was packaged reminded me of the head of a Transformer. Maybe Decepticon. Odd. But it's a boy's item. What could I expect? Anyway, after a brief pause to decided on the size (oh dear) and a gracious "thank you!" to my fellow cup hunter, I tossed it into the cart and high-tailed it out of there for safer territory.</div><div><br /></div><div>I headed for the baking aisle. I needed chocolate.</div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-30677591124264742412009-04-27T08:00:00.001-05:002009-04-27T08:00:22.129-05:00The little Train that could...look any more less like a trainIn an effort to document my follies as an over-eager cake maker...<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtluhY5FEGVESiUZSCo73fjL2e625br0mGk6C1hbbSq9TYiF5E1V3-fYECzNocHgllLB8AZDtYs9Lzr2RmkgJVpO8Sp9Hsr7XPpbX0i6QbBxlsYcPDBrCQZcKVTMASIKKLPSQJ8cxRo3cE/s1600-h/IMG_5310.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtluhY5FEGVESiUZSCo73fjL2e625br0mGk6C1hbbSq9TYiF5E1V3-fYECzNocHgllLB8AZDtYs9Lzr2RmkgJVpO8Sp9Hsr7XPpbX0i6QbBxlsYcPDBrCQZcKVTMASIKKLPSQJ8cxRo3cE/s320/IMG_5310.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329153988434818098" border="0" /></a>Note the engine of the train. If you look closely you can see how it is starting to separate. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Apparently</span> gravity works and toothpicks were not doing their job.<br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeSBV6D7_CTf2cACRy9vZl40Vcjgkf1F7dcemHyo4q6wQNtYRKQBzMRJbeQxifZCz1qpPdqfRP00jzC5XgFoxGsZEZf2jxFJJo7-ZuHS87m2scwvLOK8LUqalUpthXvkFxkMlaUv7u9J3/s1600-h/IMG_5305.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeSBV6D7_CTf2cACRy9vZl40Vcjgkf1F7dcemHyo4q6wQNtYRKQBzMRJbeQxifZCz1qpPdqfRP00jzC5XgFoxGsZEZf2jxFJJo7-ZuHS87m2scwvLOK8LUqalUpthXvkFxkMlaUv7u9J3/s320/IMG_5305.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329153982387105794" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Here the birthday boy is getting instructions from Dad about how to blow out the candles. His eager face is what I'll remember, not the slouch of the cake or the fact that jelly beans DO NOT taste good on cakes.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3zACPGWlMoko5-ePkCJIV6Ic35pMBjK7wo4hyphenhyphen8wn1W3SAZblDWJF5DvhakQK10vkSkLY3NmDYe-SnIIcqBackhdDm2g5o7bvT9qJWBvEuwdD4DSCzRrKWpeQCeg0GzhLjKB6tVzM2Wfj/s1600-h/IMG_5307.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3zACPGWlMoko5-ePkCJIV6Ic35pMBjK7wo4hyphenhyphen8wn1W3SAZblDWJF5DvhakQK10vkSkLY3NmDYe-SnIIcqBackhdDm2g5o7bvT9qJWBvEuwdD4DSCzRrKWpeQCeg0GzhLjKB6tVzM2Wfj/s320/IMG_5307.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329153984840161682" border="0" /></a><br />The first candle gave him some trouble, but....<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqgUKs9LLxlyEw0q-4I5N-7srLpqGPH1AH1QhEpbVjKLUpUVU163DxHrwjicitjKVXe7mpSPk5_TmApGSfetcAFu99vVLQjvshNPpcx5AB6GmUopvK81qH1QAunsVvlZVdUjiMN5Riz4B/s1600-h/IMG_5309.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqgUKs9LLxlyEw0q-4I5N-7srLpqGPH1AH1QhEpbVjKLUpUVU163DxHrwjicitjKVXe7mpSPk5_TmApGSfetcAFu99vVLQjvshNPpcx5AB6GmUopvK81qH1QAunsVvlZVdUjiMN5Riz4B/s320/IMG_5309.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329153987075694690" border="0" /></a><br />He succeeded!!<br />(Here the slouchy engine can be seen actually<br />being <span style="font-style: italic;">supported</span> by the train car behind it.)<br /><br /></div><br /><br />My eagerness to make fun cakes for my kids matched with a slight competition between some more crafty sister-in-laws makes for good memories, eh?<br /><br />Happy Birthday, Owen!!<br /><br />Just don't get into Star.Wars or anything too complicated by next year, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ok</span>?? Not sure the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Millennium</span> Falcon is on my list of "can-do" cakes!!Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-20209290588431518932009-04-26T18:38:00.006-05:002009-04-26T18:54:35.805-05:00Because they were just too white, I guess...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeFSvG-l0nn1EmjkSRVqftNeYqROUIVw3mg5dnXF1SQTta73_6DGD6J6RosE3PKxASYmIHpDSJzLJQec3KzgfqSJNfdQ3w_0teLvnQCoJDfNnhuoQCCAuc7Mrb01MV_enMVPRjfDm-M2Nn/s1600-h/ellie+shoes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeFSvG-l0nn1EmjkSRVqftNeYqROUIVw3mg5dnXF1SQTta73_6DGD6J6RosE3PKxASYmIHpDSJzLJQec3KzgfqSJNfdQ3w_0teLvnQCoJDfNnhuoQCCAuc7Mrb01MV_enMVPRjfDm-M2Nn/s320/ellie+shoes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329149414423655890" border="0" /></a><br />As I've <a href="http://wisepartyof5.blogspot.com/2007/08/new-favorite-thing.html">noted in the past</a>, my daughter's creativity knows no bounds. Especially when related to the medium with which she chooses to express said creativity.<br /><br />Today's choice: New. White. Shoes.<br /><br />To further explain why this a big deal (they were washable crayons, came off in a flash, bought at the cheapy shoe store, with a coupon, so really <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> a big deal), I must say a few things.<br /><br />I am Dutch. I shop mostly at resale stores. This was only the second pair of real, live, brand-spanking, "I've still got the shoe box" shoes that I have ever bought. For any of my kids. Thanks to a very generous aunt who had boys and girls with a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">plethora</span> of shoes and the resales, I have been able to avoid the shoe store.<br /><br />Now I see a bit even more logic in skipping the store.<br /><br />And just tying plastic bags to their feet.<br /><br />Or maybe paper. She can color on paper.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-85982936696287994852009-04-23T12:58:00.000-05:002009-04-23T12:58:45.193-05:00He's Two!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbYhEeqgjmJo5_Fy_jOxrbi0Ec4k0uORUoazvhMunMr5XHo40lB04kMLFd4GkK0TyC2c6yXJxRB2kdrzEoP0Zqq_2aeZhgu6Z6eZ4hKvqXms0AlvN9RE-DfoHU8khayuhPOXLlI_TBIq7/s1600-h/owen+is+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbYhEeqgjmJo5_Fy_jOxrbi0Ec4k0uORUoazvhMunMr5XHo40lB04kMLFd4GkK0TyC2c6yXJxRB2kdrzEoP0Zqq_2aeZhgu6Z6eZ4hKvqXms0AlvN9RE-DfoHU8khayuhPOXLlI_TBIq7/s320/owen+is+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327947248005524898" border="0" /></a><br />My youngest has turned two! Although it is extremely clique'...I can't believe he's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">two</span> already. And this child is, as they say, All Boy. He's dirty, rowdy, loud, loves to land on his bottom for no reason except for the fact that it makes a fun sound, tackle, throw (every)things, and thinks colliding humans are hilarious.<br /><br />And I love him.<br /><br />He's very different from his big brother in how quickly he's joined ranks of the rowdy, but still has a sweet side to him as well. In fact, when he sees one of his sibs in tears or feeling sad, he'll head over and with a slightly tilted head and a gentle pet on the arm, he reassures the ones he loves that all will be ok. And then he runs. Full tilt in any direction. E.R., here we come. We haven't totally celebrated yet, but I'm looking forward to watching him open some presents and chow on some boy-design birthday cake very soon.<div><br /></div><div>This little boy, he is my third, my last, my Owen.<br /><br />Happy Birthday, buddy. Momma loves ya!</div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-17300170858311984952009-04-22T14:45:00.001-05:002009-04-22T14:47:16.372-05:00Wordless Wednesday<div style="text-align: center;">What???<br /> Doesn't everyone eat their bagel this way??<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIb04IdyDcaRxosJvHclUfzlPc9tdGaX03iVN76xOqkhVBLZVEboiUg3qkVwz_wpz1yMYV_7gmabIy6FgtTeSk_ziDjOkacLLIn5SiB0yNYG7Z_ZNQ2IZWjKpnXT4fmhozZ02XUql739j/s1600-h/owen+bagel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIb04IdyDcaRxosJvHclUfzlPc9tdGaX03iVN76xOqkhVBLZVEboiUg3qkVwz_wpz1yMYV_7gmabIy6FgtTeSk_ziDjOkacLLIn5SiB0yNYG7Z_ZNQ2IZWjKpnXT4fmhozZ02XUql739j/s320/owen+bagel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327604523541829474" border="0" /></a>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-82715839807633052162009-03-30T13:41:00.005-05:002009-03-30T14:05:32.557-05:00Looking for the bright sideIn a bit of writing therapy, I'm hoping to write out a bunch of things that are bringing this family down and hope that they will then magically disappear. Also that maybe I can also see a few positives in all this mess.<br /><br />My knee is in serious need of attention. An MRI tomorrow will hopefully shed some light on how old my knee thinks I am and what to do next. For now, just call me "step-and-a-half." The most frustrating thing is that I'm having a hard time making plans because I just don't know how much the ol' bod will take here. Or how much it will take back!<br /><br />We have all succumb to a couple of nasty springtime colds. Ellie has taken the brunt of it. Poor dear was up often last night just trying to ignore her ear pain long enough to drift off into some fitful sleep. My mommy's heart was hurting because it's been awhile since one of my little partygoers really needed some serious TLC. But we muddled through and went to our fourth (yes f-o-u-r-t-h) doc's appointment in a week to confirm the reality we already knew. Whopper ear infection.<br /><br />Which brings me to our personal attempt to keep our docs in business. Ellie was there a week ago with a sudden fever and suspected strep. No strep, just the beginning of this doosy of a cold. Owen went on Thursday for his two-year well baby appointment and they generously agreed to look at my knee while I was there. I figured my part of the appointment to be the more hefty one until the doc came back and said that Owen was also needing a trip to the hospital radiology department for an echocardiogram on his heart. Apparently, he has a heart murmur which hasn't presented previously, so they like to check it out with further tests. NOT what I was expecting. I'm not terribly worried at this point, but it's the unexpected that's got me going and I'm glad they can get both of our tests done tomorrow. Sooner is definitely better than later for me when it comes to gettin' some answers.<br /><br />My beloved Hubs has not been immune to the cold bugs and is also fighting a pretty decent cold with all he's got. So on top of doing all the legwork that is harder for me to do right now, he's battling to see the forest through the fog. Bless. His. Heart.<br /><br />So....The Bright Side??<br /><br />We have doctors who can take care of us.<br /><br />At least it's not both of my knees. (then I'd be "no-step")<br /><br />We're on Spring Break this week, which means, no missed school, sub plans or working around schools schedules.<br /><br />Josh is fighting a small cold, but still has enough energy to power a small city. Man, how do they keep him busy at school? (thank goodness for baseball practice tonight!)<br /><br />Owen is Owen. I thought it would be a good time to start taking away his pacifier, but hey, someone needs some comfort around here when times get tough, right?<br /><br />I'm praying. A lot. And not always in petition for our needs, but recognizing with gratefulness the blessings He has given us. A home. Food. Medicine. Family. Sunshine.<br /><br /><br />Ps. I don't want to post this as a sympathy-getter, but just a bit of therapy and an honest record of our days. Let's hope for brighter ones soon!Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-70716832676683463382009-03-10T08:00:00.002-05:002009-03-10T08:00:00.133-05:00'Cause that's just how we rollThis weekend we spent oodles of time celebrating my dearest man, the Hubs. He turned (an undisclosed amount of years), but let's just say that it'll be about 2 years before he's over the hill. It was quite busy getting together with family all weekend, but apparently we here at the Party house like to party. A lot. Often. All in one weekend. <div><br /></div><div>Of course, doing that kinda partyin' is just asking for something to go awry. Fast forward to about 5 pm on Saturday. The dear Hubs had dropped Josh off at a friend's bowling party and was on an errand to pick up a few essential dessert items I had forgotten to get for our next party on Sunday with my family. I had the other two dear children at church with me for our dinner before Bible study. </div><div><br /></div><div>Enter calamity. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ellie had an accident in the church's bathroom and I have no change of clothes for her. Ugg. I cry out for help in a quick call to the Hubs. </div><div><br /></div><div>Enter odd timing. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Hubs is at the local discount grocery store picking up whipped cream in a can, and a bottle of wine that caught his fancy. So as he is checking out, I call, asking desperately for him to pick up some pants and underwear. </div><div><br /></div><div>Enter loud cell phone conversation. </div><div><br /></div><div>"So you need underwear?" (said loudly on the phone, in front of the cashier)...<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>While checking out with whipped cream in a can. And a bottle of wine.</div><div><br /></div><div>Underwear+whipped cream+wine= odd look from cashier.</div><div><br /></div><div>'Cause that's just how we roll.</div>Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5629380092675384637.post-82753677636717152892009-03-09T08:00:00.001-05:002009-03-09T08:00:00.638-05:00A Man of Action<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOvDwXAMxkGfM1KQX31Qj0pgZM_PdwIvncf7yKS_VKcp851r9evBhlFYFkKn4MJ-Giwwgjd8eB2P23X3bRngjCYSa0C10eSivO0i1FJZjyDJnjpIIDc-YJq1-Te3PGAiuo53ogzJXRov9/s1600-h/IMG_5227.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOvDwXAMxkGfM1KQX31Qj0pgZM_PdwIvncf7yKS_VKcp851r9evBhlFYFkKn4MJ-Giwwgjd8eB2P23X3bRngjCYSa0C10eSivO0i1FJZjyDJnjpIIDc-YJq1-Te3PGAiuo53ogzJXRov9/s320/IMG_5227.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310155073283531154" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvid1IMcx-SjcreNBN_xFxK2e47gEMK5eh94hJOlra8WDwzruEQn5DPlDc2uduE1oivszcgt3kfOp40sCJydsg_Ay5Jl9z5HbZsPUl6N10Vn8Y-EO3BaO9aHRP1uMtH6vhTo4kzNpHSSw/s1600-h/IMG_5228.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvid1IMcx-SjcreNBN_xFxK2e47gEMK5eh94hJOlra8WDwzruEQn5DPlDc2uduE1oivszcgt3kfOp40sCJydsg_Ay5Jl9z5HbZsPUl6N10Vn8Y-EO3BaO9aHRP1uMtH6vhTo4kzNpHSSw/s320/IMG_5228.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310155070845185218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEonSllG58GgYEThhAA_6FLhZdPW8lO3-LgEujezGuxzqBNGDsxlEE9qgr8zmtkhpJ5KXRquBDolT008rioy4MJKdUAK4bqH3o4UgqCSsOabQWaBSP_XozTUCquZ2xpnQcDpg28r2OUS_/s1600-h/IMG_5226.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEonSllG58GgYEThhAA_6FLhZdPW8lO3-LgEujezGuxzqBNGDsxlEE9qgr8zmtkhpJ5KXRquBDolT008rioy4MJKdUAK4bqH3o4UgqCSsOabQWaBSP_XozTUCquZ2xpnQcDpg28r2OUS_/s320/IMG_5226.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310155064675574514" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Kagd6cSa5-KO88mGrhzh7jdnGf6gIIjzrYIDcL2RcvDhSYFS_BPsM0Jdu-vmF-KLjpM1EYxAIWi585oDdFzdBPoufm9DhZNctWDP2JxHBkDs-_X76RnPm7Oac9nmjL4t5hJCPLZQZld4/s1600-h/IMG_5225.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Kagd6cSa5-KO88mGrhzh7jdnGf6gIIjzrYIDcL2RcvDhSYFS_BPsM0Jdu-vmF-KLjpM1EYxAIWi585oDdFzdBPoufm9DhZNctWDP2JxHBkDs-_X76RnPm7Oac9nmjL4t5hJCPLZQZld4/s320/IMG_5225.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310155061745658146" border="0" /></a>This kid makes me laugh. Owen is almost two years old!! His birthday is a month away, but I'm already tearing up. It's been amazing to see him grow so fast in the last few months. He's been talking for quite a while now, and I can't even remember what it was like before he could use words! Owen has discovered that he can now tell us something that he's seen out the window of the car or in the aisle of a grocery store. Wow, the beginnings of real conversation. Of course, that's if you can keep him still for any length of time. He's a ball of energy and I'm imagining many active days outdoors this spring and summer. (yeah!) He loves to make people laugh and has also found out how to "make an entrance." This usually means entering a room with a big "Hel-lo!" Just this week the kids put on a little show to celebrate the Hubs' birthday and, of course, he got into the action. After his show (which consisted mostly of super-fast dancing feet and something like yodeling) he stopped. And then, stuck out his belly and yelled, "TA-DA!" What a crackup. One of my Dad's favorite sayings is, "Never a dull moment." Oh. How. True.Krishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18329874484755704995noreply@blogger.com1