tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10531398426223182762024-03-13T03:03:42.283-06:00MachEpicThe MachEpicAdoventureQuest,
or Machepicado... (it rhymes with Avacado, because we're the Machado's)Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.comBlogger113125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-10934952619196072472019-11-12T13:07:00.001-07:002019-11-12T13:07:09.631-07:00Podcast with my friend <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Back in around January of 2018, my psychiatrist came to the conclusion that, due to the spectacular failure of antidepressants to give me any relief, it appeared I had bipolar type II. This was a huge relief. “I’m not crazy!” I thought. “Well, I <i>am</i> crazy... BUT I’M NOT CRAZY!!” We switched to a different kind of medication entirely which has provided some measure of help. I’m still kind of a wreck, but I’m not as bad of a wreck as I was.<br />
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A month or two after this diagnosis, my friend from college days, Jessica Jackson, contacted me and told me she was starting a podcast and could she interview me. Wow! Sure!<br />
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So here it is, about a year and a half old. Thanks for listening:<br />
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<a href="https://thrivinginmotherhoodpodcast.com/2018/05/22/facing-motherhood-with-bipolar-disorder-with-sarah-machado-episode-06/">https://thrivinginmotherhoodpodcast.com/2018/05/22/facing-motherhood-with-bipolar-disorder-with-sarah-machado-episode-06/</a><br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-32639673450340143532018-09-07T20:31:00.000-06:002018-09-07T20:31:57.414-06:00Baby Michael's Entrance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On Monday morning, September 3, (baby's due date) Chris and I went to the hospital, took the elevator to the third floor and got checked in to the maternity ward for elective induction. GDM combined with a darkening mental horizon meant that despite my distaste for being induced, it was the better route. Plus, EVERYone at church got a real kick out of the fact that I would be laboring on Labor Day.<br />
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Our nurse during all of the labor and delivery was Nancy, a fabulous caregiver. I couldn't have asked for better. We did all the usual things, answer a bazillion questions, change into a hospital gown, get an IV going, started penicillin (for group B strep), etc. The doctor, Dr. Pittard, came in and checked me, I was at a 2, and so we started pitocin.<br />
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At a quiet moment of the morning, Chris gave me a priesthood blessing. Sometime near 11am, the contractions, while still within the range I can handle, started heading towards what I new would be exhaustingly painful, so I asked if the anesthetist could be called. Ofttimes it takes awhile before they can get there, and I would rather be ahead of the pain than behind it.<br />
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Jamie, an anesthetist with an easy-going manner and a great sense of humor, got there fairly quickly, and he got the epidural started. But weirdly, only a band of about six inches, starting from the top of my large belly to about my belly button, went numb. I could still feel and had full range of motion from the belly button down. Nancy (who kept getting tips from Jamie over the phone) and I tried shifting my position, seeing if gravity could help the epidural take effect further down, but clearly the epidural was not going to descend any lower.<br />
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Nancy informed Jamie, and he came back to see if he could assess the problem in person and provide a solution. He couldn't see how, even with my scoliosis, that band would be the only thing that had gone numb. Apparently, that could have been a typical response if the epidural had gone in at around thoracic vertebrae number 10 (T10), but he had put the epidural in at around lumbar 3, a vertebra at least 5 inches lower than T10. That's a long way for the epidural to travel, and seemed quite unlikely. Jamie said he wished he could take an x-ray and figure out what had happened, but couldn't seeing as I had a baby in my abdomen.<br />
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So he told me, "We can either do a new epidural, or no epidural." I said I liked the first option best (no contest!), so he, apologizing for the first one failing, set about putting in a new epidural. It wasn't nearly as painful getting the second one done (although I've never found epidural getting to be particularly painful, especially compared with some of the other pains of labor, like getting checked, or even getting an IV put in), thanks to the first one numbing that section of my torso so well. Jamie put the new epidural in at about L4, one vertebra lower than the first. The only clue as to what went wrong the first time was that a larger amount of epidural medicine than usual oozed out of the first "wound" site. So it's clear the epidural didn't end up where it was supposed to go, but why that resulted in the six inch band of numbness, we may never know.<br />
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Almost immediately after Jamie got the second one in, I felt my legs start to tingle and get warm, and within minutes we could tell that epidural no.2 was a win. Jamie again apologized and I assured him it was fine. The important thing was we got there in the end! He joked that we'd just call the first epidural acupuncture. I agreed.<br />
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One of my favorite parts of this episode was that Chris was given a chair to come sit by me at the bed while the anesthetist worked at my back and the nurse stood at my front. That was new for us. Nancy suggested he could hold my hand for support, and I was surprised at just how supportive that small thing was, holding hands while I got all poked and prodded in the spine.<br />
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The rest of the afternoon and early evening was pretty uneventful. I could rest, and just lay down the whole time, which is mostly what I did. I spent some of that time going through all the "educational stuff we need to you know before you can get discharged" on the iPad they gave me, and Dr. Pittard came at about 2pm and checked me again and broke my water, (his original plan was to break my water at noon and THEN I'd have an epidural, but since with Lucy I had progressed really quickly once my water broke, and since he'd been held up in the OR, I changed things up by having the epidural first) but most of that time I spent resting and waiting for little boy to be ready to be born.<br />
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Sometime between 6 and 6:30pm, Nancy asked if I wanted to be checked, she had a hunch I was close. She was right! I was fully dilated and effaced. Dr. Pittard was called and we were soon pushing. Little Michael Lewis Machado was born at 6:51 pm. He came into the world all wiggly and hollering and blue, just like the other three did. He was 8lb 11.7oz and 21 inches long. Our heftiest baby yet.<br />
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We came home from the hospital on Wednesday after receiving wonderful care from all the nurses (shout out to Madonna who is like the coolest, 60 something, Mary Poppins-like nurse I've ever had). Michael had some jaundice but it is now receding, and we are starting our life as a family of 6. Mom, Dad, two boys, and two girls. His siblings already adore him and love to hold him (for about 20 seconds at most) and give him kisses. And Dad and I are getting our fill of a sweet, sleepy newborn.<br />
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Welcome to the world, my new son.<br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-62727324085359743652018-08-22T14:08:00.002-06:002018-08-22T18:29:00.137-06:00Blessed be the name of the Lord<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"...the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."</i></td></tr>
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At my brother's funeral last April, we sang three congregational songs: "<a href="https://www.lds.org/music/library/childrens-songbook/i-love-to-see-the-temple?lang=eng" target="_blank">I Love to See the Temple</a>," "<a href="https://www.lds.org/music/library/hymns/sing-praise-to-him?lang=eng" target="_blank">Sing Praise to Him</a>," and "<a href="https://www.lds.org/music/library/hymns/press-forward-saints?lang=eng" target="_blank">Press Forward Saints</a>."</div>
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"Sing Praise to Him" has much of the sentiments of Job 1:21. Job has just learned that all his sons and daughters have been killed in an accident. He rends his garments, shaves his head, and falls down to say, "...the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."</div>
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Consider these lines from the 2nd verse: </div>
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What his almighty pow’r hath made<br />
His gracious mercy keepeth.</blockquote>
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and<br />
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Within the kingdom of his might,<br />
Lo! all is just and all is right.<br />
To him all praise and glory!</blockquote>
Some of the brethren sitting on the stand were holding it together so well until we got to the part in verse three:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
As with a mother’s tender hand,<br />
He leads his own, his chosen band.</blockquote>
Something about seeing a grieving mother there at the front of the congregation and singing about a mother's tender hand was pehaps just too much. I think that was one of my Dad's favorite parts of the whole funeral.<br />
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But I digress. Back to Job. If God has made something, his mercy will keep it. All is just and all is right, even for Job who lost his health, his family, his worldly goods, etc. Why? Well, I'm not sure exactly why, but in part, it's because God is perfectly just and perfectly merciful. There are challenges we must pass through that are leading us to a greater glory. All that is unfair in this life will be made up, not least of all by molding us into who we are meant to become. This is why we can say, "blessed be the name of the Lord," and, "To him all praise and glory!"<br />
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My dad said people probably thought we were really weird for picking Press Forward Saints and Sing Praise to Him to sing at a funeral. More often people sing things like, "<a href="https://www.lds.org/music/library/hymns/o-my-father?lang=eng" target="_blank">Oh My Father</a>" and "<a href="https://www.lds.org/music/library/hymns/each-life-that-touches-ours-for-good?lang=eng" target="_blank">Each Life That Touches Ours for Good</a>." You know, songs about departed loved ones, and what it's like in heaven, and such. Instead, we sang, "Press forward," (ie. "move along.") and, "Alleluia!" "...rejoicing in his might," and "To him all praise and glory!"<br />
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When dad said this, he had a bit of a twinkle in his eye. I think that's because he understands Job, and why Job can say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord" at a time when it seems he has no reason to praise.<br />
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Plus, those Alleluias at the end of that final hymn? They felt so good to sing. I think Michael would have loved it.<br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-6565512673836263292018-05-16T20:00:00.000-06:002018-05-16T20:00:47.569-06:00Lesson from Grief<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A month ago, my little brother, Michael Lewis Hunsaker, departed this life. A drunk driver hit the car my mother, sister and he were in. They survived. He did not.<br /><br />Our sadness has spawned many tears. And I have felt the peace which passes understanding more times than I can count. We see too many small and simple signs that God used this tragedy to take Michael home. It was his time. And while we miss him more than we can say, there is a peace that accompanies this knowledge, and I truly have reason to live extremely well.<br />
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There are some strange lessons you learn through grief. I'd like to share just one of them. It is this: People mourn weird. And you have to learn how to graciously accept their offering.<br />
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People say things or give things that come from their hearts, and yet fall woefully short of being helpful. Afterwards you may shake your head or just laugh over the absurdity of it with your loved ones. Because there's not much you can do to stop this kind of thing. But man, I didn't really expect this to be one of the lessons to come out of death.<br />
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This card I found once sums it up pretty well:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmM6JIgo4joJ_uW-WkYjNc6r_MiR6PfJIuvLk6APGleItBhL-koXmiW0WIr67_LSfnsCT-yg7Zi5Lde3eZ7ScHRe1K0E8g1Yo0BNDmlYahbwIIkH8erzUznXZHFu45L68KRGk2Pn31Sk/s1600/take+away+the+hamster+people.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmM6JIgo4joJ_uW-WkYjNc6r_MiR6PfJIuvLk6APGleItBhL-koXmiW0WIr67_LSfnsCT-yg7Zi5Lde3eZ7ScHRe1K0E8g1Yo0BNDmlYahbwIIkH8erzUznXZHFu45L68KRGk2Pn31Sk/s320/take+away+the+hamster+people.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://emilymcdowell.com/collections/empathy-cards/products/hamster-empathy-card" target="_blank">(photo cred)</a></td></tr>
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People mean well. And far and away most of them say and do things that truly help you bear your grief. But now and again, someone mourns weird. They are trying to help, and so you're at least thankful for that. And the laughing with your family about it afterwards? That's kind of a healing thing too.<br /><br /></div>
Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-43578583792202854052017-12-19T20:06:00.002-07:002017-12-19T20:07:13.437-07:00Reaching out<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today my friends, seen and unseen, heard me cry out in pain (perhaps some of them literally, it wasn't a baby cry, it was a full grown woman bellow). It's been the same hardness of mental anguish over here. Day in and day out. Often I don't contain it well. The anguish, that is.<br />
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So during the day I had two friends reach out with texts, and another reach out with food. She remembered how I don't like to cook and brought us a casserole for the future.<br />
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And some unseen hands went and got gifts for our whole family. Wrapped gifts for the children, stitching supplies for me, a gift card for Chris for one of his favorite fast food places, and a bundle of blankets. Snuggy flanel ones for each of us. They left it all on our doorstep and ran. Leaving us full of thanks and inability to express it directly.<br />
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Thanks for helping me hold on today. Thank you for making sure I couldn't feel forgotten. Thank you for strengthening my feebleness and responding to my cry.<br />
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Call it coincidence if you like. I know its something more.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.kershisnik.com/w-o-r-d-s/2017/7/7/a-general-note-about-she-will-find-what-is-lost" target="_blank">image cred</a></td></tr>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-5933970959627964722017-11-11T23:43:00.002-07:002017-11-11T23:43:58.648-07:00three to four weeks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>A little bit "stream of conciousness" writing about my demons. For your benefit as well as mine, but please... no pity.</i><br /><br />Imagine you wake up every day in pain. It's severe enough that you don't even want to get out of bed you feel so bad. But you have responsibilities that cannot be set aside, so you get up<br />
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That pain stays with you throughout the day. There are moments, sometimes even an hour or two, of relief, but like an overbearing house guest, the pain never leaves you alone.<br />
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You go see a doctor who knows your condition, prescribes medication to help with the pain and asks to see you in 3 to 4 weeks. After all, that's about how long the medication will take to really work. Oh, and by the way, it's likely that this medication will make your pain worse. If it does, get in to see the doctor sooner, and also, we have a whole slew of medications we can try in case this particular one goes south. But again, each time it will be 3 to 4 weeks before we'll know and your pain might again get worse instead of getting better.<br />
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It's not that the doctor is incompetent. No, he's one of the best in his field. You just have to endure life altering pain for days and weeks at best and months and years at worst before you may find any measure of relief.<br /><br />
It's exhausting. It's terrifying. It makes you want to weep. In fact, you often can't do anything but weep.<br /><br />And it is my life. Every day for months now. Life with a diagnosed, but not successfully treated mental illness.<br />
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I'm writing this post for two reasons:<br />1) because it helps me to write. I can process, make some order out of the chaos in my head. Search for meaning in the moments of mind-numbing anguish. It helps me to write.<br />
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2) because maybe you know someone with a mental illness. Maybe you are someone with a mental illness. If you have it, you need to know you aren't alone. You aren't the only one contemplating the deepest abyss and overcoming it hour by hour, day by day. If you know someone, maybe you can understand a bit better what it is they may be facing. You can give an encouraging hug. Some words like, "I see your suffering, and I'm cheering for you." Words that might lift up hands which hang and strengthen knees which are feeble.<br />
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I'm NOT writing this post for pity. Unlike others I've talked to, I have almost zero shame about my mental illness. I haven't worn myself to the bone thinking that I'm depressed because I'm just not good enough or because I'm weak. I don't wish to hide the fact that my mind is broken any more than I might wish to hide if my arm were broken. Even my therapist and psychiatrist have made comments concerned about the stigmas associated with these illnesses. And while you could state with some certainty that I'm not exactly of sound mind, all I want to say is, "Who cares?"<br /><br />I've learned from multiple sources, (parents, family, friends, books, and even TED talks) that mental illness is really the same as physical illness insofar as it's just a part of the body experiencing malfunction. It's different in that the human brain is, as my psychiatrist put it, the most complicated system in the entire known universe. And we haven't exactly cracked the code of fixing it when it's broken.<br /><br />All that is to say. Be kind to those around you. You never know what darkness they may be facing. It may be that your kindness is just the thing that gets them through one more hour, one more day, or one more round of meds that may not help. Be kind, be encouraging, and above all, be patient.<br /><br />As Tolkien might say:<br />
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Even darkness must pass.<br />A new day will come.<br />And when the sun shines<br />it will shine out the clearer.</blockquote>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><a href="http://cupcake.nilssonlee.se/" target="_blank">photo cred</a></i></span></td></tr>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-47425343416106224992017-04-28T22:23:00.000-06:002017-04-28T22:23:51.516-06:00Projects<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I love fiber and textiles. So much so that I've at least dabbled in most of the common crafts and have a continuous rotation of deep dives into my favorites.<br /><br />
As of this typing, I have four knitting projects, three embroidery projects and one crochet project that I work on fairly regularly.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Volt shawl I'm currently knitting for my German Knit-Pal</td></tr>
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I don't always finish the projects. But sometimes I'll go back to a project I dropped years ago and finally finish it. (or just close the drawer again and think "later... maybe later.")<br />
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Part of me really enjoys this, having lots of creative outlets to choose from at any given time. I love bouncing from one project to another. I'll get stuck, (boredom, frustration, lack of tools, etc.) and work on a different project that scratches an itch I have in another part of my brain. Then when I go back to the original project, it feels fresh and hopeful and good.<br />
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Part of me feels judgmental about this. Is it because I don't want to be seen as wasteful? I don't want to be seen as excessive or frivolous? I don't want to be seen as someone who can start but not finish a task? I don't want others to think I'm flighty or flakey? I think it's some mixture of all of these reasons.<br />
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There's a running theme amongst crafters of all varieties, and that is anxiety about stash build-up, mixed with jokes about how your significant other disapproves of the mess, or of a potential new purchase, or of a barely completed new purchase. It's like we have to justify our stash to the world or at least ourselves, and if we can't come up with a good reason, then at least we can laugh nervously and hope we're not the only one.<br /><br />
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I don't know what the answer to this conundrum is. But I've got a few thoughts.<br /><br />1) This life has a lot of beginnings and endings, but not a lot of completions. Especially perfect completions. When is it that you can check off the box to "Completed teaching my children. Forever. They're fully baked and are whole beings now"? Or "Completed learning. I've perfected all knowledge"? It sounds ridiculous, especially on that scale. But I kinda think it's ridiculous to expect entirely perfect completions of smaller scale things like my craft projects. We might think that a project will be conceived, begun, worked on, then finished, all like a nice little package, but creation doesn't usually work out like that for me. It's more complicated, less linear, more chaotic, less perfect. A little dabbling here, a long-haul effort there and some glorious learning along the way.</div>
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2) My fear about "others" judgement is, I think, more about fearing my own judgement. Which sounds kinda silly now that I've typed it out. Don't I like having lots of projects? (yes) Do I really want to change how I'm doing things? (no, at least not at this point in my life) So, where's the judgement that I've been fearing? Not sure, but I suspect it's the virtue of "trying to become," gone awry. I want to grow and become more excellent at everything (including being able to focus and work hard, and not be, well, flighty). But I've come to realize that I can either wait to act until perfection has been attained, or I can keep moving and trying out lots of things and making lots of mistakes (in planning the projects, in executing them, or in both) and growing through doing. And I have a sneaking suspicion that the latter version is the only one that actually leads to growth. The mistakes are sometimes painful and always uncomfortable, but I can't let myself get hung up on them, or hung up on the possibility of them. I'd never get anywhere.<br /><br />So the moral of the story is, I think I like having a lot of projects. And I'm gonna try to be patient with myself when I feel anxious about having a lot of things I started but never finished. It's all part of the process. And if I keep moving forward with my eyes wide open, I think, in the end, I'll be glad I did.<br /><br />Now please excuse me while I go back to the knitting project I just started a couple of hours ago...</div>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-6589004689339990902017-02-16T22:59:00.000-07:002017-02-16T22:59:27.176-07:00I used to have a brain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I used to have a brain. Well, to be perfectly honest, I still DO have one, it's just not functioning the same way it used to.<br />
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I told a friend recently about this analogy I've come with about my mind. It goes like this:<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let's say I was an athlete, a soccer player perhaps, and really in shape and working out all the time at soccer practice. Then one day I injure myself. Maybe blow out my knee during a game. Now I can't even do many of the things people just normally do because my knee just hurts too bad, let alone do many of the things I did as a great athlete. My knee needs rest, physical therapy, maybe some pain meds, all in a long slow effort at recovery. </span><span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">PPD is like this for me. Except instead of my knee, it's like my mind is damaged. Things I used to be able to do, mental/emotional stamina I used to have is gone. I try to do the things I used to do, and so quickly, I'm in pain. But not physical pain, emotional pain that manifests itself as frustration, irritability, discouragement, anxiety, sadness, overwhelming-ness, etc.</span></blockquote>
There's so much beauty in the world around me. Smiling, chubby-cheeked baby, giggling toddlers, snuggling children, laughing with my best friend. And sometimes it bowls me over with how wonderful life is.<br />
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And yet at the same time, I'm trekking through a mist of darkness. It's like my mind is drudging through a murky bog just to get up, move, do the things that need doing, and have the stamina to do it.<br />
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You know the part in The Two Towers when Frodo says to Sam: <b style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">You and I, Sam, are still stuck in the worst places of the story, and it is all too likely that some will say at this point: "Shut the book now, dad; we don't want to read any more."</b><br />
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I'm in that part of my story. And like Frodo and Sam, I'm going to keep walking. I sometimes want to stop reading the book, too. But I can't. I have to keep walking.<br />
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And deep down, I believe the white shores are calling. That's where I'm headed in the end.<br />
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<a href="https://unsplash.com/collections/289748/hike-haven?photo=Sd8O2SgKDJA" style="font-size: 12.8px;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #999999;">photo cred</span></a></div>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-89502402765263432452017-02-08T21:44:00.002-07:002017-11-11T23:51:10.862-07:00Lucy's Birth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 12, 2016</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Think back to the early part of July 2016. That's when this miracle of a baby came into our home. Here's the story of how it happened (written when she was 9 days old. And reading it now I laugh because I can almost hear how sleep-deprived I was, I did a little editing for grammar and clarity, but mostly left my sleep-deprived voice stay the same):</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">At 38 weeks and 5 days I was still only dilated to a one. Despite the fact that I had way more contractions with this pregnancy than with my previous two, this baby was not going to make a very early entrance.</span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">So at my appointment, the doctor recommended we set a date for induction. Because of my gestational diabetes she thought it was a good idea, and frankly I was so tired of being pregnant I thought it was a fantastic idea. So we set the date for June 12th all the while hoping that she would come before then. </span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">On Monday July 11th, we packed clothes for the kids and for us and spent the night at Grandma and Grandpa's Machado. Then July 12th, Chris and I got up early and left the house at about 5:30 so we could get to the hospital for the 6 a.m. induction. </span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">The check-in process began smoothly, and a nurse named Melissa helped start my IV and various other things. Originally the doctor suggested starting with a vaginal medicine but Lucy's heart rate kept dropping and because of that and because I was contracting on my own, we decided to go straight to pitocin. A little bit after 7 a.m. Melissa finished her shift and transferred her job over to two nurses, Tiffany and Sarah. </span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Throughout the whole pregnancy this girl's been a very active baby, and her birthday was no exception. We had issues with the monitors all morning. The nurses had to keep coming in and adjusting the monitors so they could pick up her heart rate. Finally at a little after 8am, we were able to start the pitocin (I really really really really don't like pitocin contractions. Really.) All the morning I'd been having contractions which was uncommon for me to have that many in the morning. </span></span></span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">After about an hour of pitocin contractions, I started thinking about getting an epidural. I asked the nurse for her suggestion and she said because it was my third baby they didn't need to wait to a certain dilation before giving me an epidural, so at about 9:50 I decided I wanted one. The contractions weren't so bad that I couldn't handle them but I could tell they were getting to that point. Tiffany also said that most women seemed to ask for an epidural at about 11 a.m. so if I was going to get one it would be a good idea to ask for one before that so I wouldn't end up at the back of the line as it were. The nurses called the anesthetist, and in less than an hour she had the epidural up and running. The nurses placed a big, orange peanut shaped exercise ball between my legs which was way more convenient than several pillows, and turned me to both sides for a time in order to let gravity help the medicine distribute evenly. By the time the epidural started working I was really having to work to manage the contractions.</span></span></span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Sometime between 11 and 11:30 they checked me and I was at a 5 or 6. It was hard for them to know for sure because my water hadn't broken. The nurses figured since my water hadn't yet broken they'd call my doctor and have her come break it, and then they figured it would be very quick until the time the baby came. </span></span></span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Both they and Christopher needed to get lunch, so before leaving the nurses asked a technician to get the birth equipment table ready and then Chris and the nurses went and got their separate lunches. Chris got back just before noon and he hadn't been in the room for four minutes when my water burst like an over-filled water balloon. I just been thinking that I hoped I'd be able to tell if my water broke when, boom! It popped. I pushed the call button right as Sarah was walking back into the room and she and Tiffany helped clean up the huge amount of water. I could still feel contractions pretty well, in fact the best of any of my three children so far. I could also tell there was a lot of pressure from that baby's head starting to head down the birth canal. Since the doctor hadn't arrived yet Sarah told me if I started to feel the need to push I should pant like a dog to get through the contractions to stop myself from pushing.</span></span></span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Tiffany paged the doctor and I love how she tried to convey a sense of urgency but not emergency to the doctor. She told Dr. King that "she's fully dilated and effaced and is trying hard not to push." "Trying not to what?" I heard Dr. King ask. "Push," Tiffany replied calmly and firmly. </span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Dr. King booked it over to my room and quickly got ready to help me push. I was glad that Sarah gave me the advice about panting because I needed it through two or three contractions, I needed to push so badly!</span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">But I was able to wait until Dr. King was ready. And the next contraction I started pushing and by the end her head was nearly out. Dr. King asked if I wanted to push in between contractions to which I said yes! And we got her head out the rest of the way. Her body soon followed and they placed my little Lucy on my belly so I could see my little girl for the first time.</span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I cried so hard. It was just so sweet to hold her and see her face. The nurses wiped her off while the doctor stitched me up. And I just marveled at this little girl who in some ways I've known for months and in some ways I was meeting for the first time. </span> </blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Lucy weighed 7 pounds 1 ounce, and was 19 and three quarters inches long. She's smaller than either Nathaniel or Eva were. And she's already stolen my heart. Nathaniel and Eva are so sweet with her baby sister. They love to ask what she's doing, and they love to give her kisses. Eva loves to give her toys to Lucy and then quickly take them back so she can play with them again. So far at Lucy doesn't seem to mind. We have a beautiful family of 5. And now if I can just get some sleep, I might feel like a regular human again.</span></blockquote>
So there you have it. Lucy Annalise Machado. Her middle name is a conglomeration of her grandmothers'. Chris's mom and grandma both have the middle name Anne, and my mom's name is Lisa. Lucy we just loved the sound and meaning of, and Machado, well. yeah. of course.<br />
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She's almost 7 months old now. We thought her brother and sister were mellow babies, but man. This girl takes the cake. There's a reason #MomIsMyFaveJob.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Day, 2016</td></tr>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-88776478409181118042016-07-11T23:33:00.000-06:002016-07-11T23:33:32.510-06:00Until tomorrow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear Little One,<br />
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Tomorrow, if all goes well, you will come into this world. I'm so looking forward to seeing you and holding you. Smelling your baby smell, hearing your baby noises, seeing your squashy cheeks. Ahh.... some of the sweetest moments of motherhood.<br />
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You are baby number three in our family. I was also baby number three, as was your Grandpa Dean. I had two older brothers who, when I was born, were almost the exact ages that Nathan and Eva are right now. You have some powerhouse siblings. Your brother loves telling jokes, making Eva giggle, learning about cars and anything that goes, imagining he's a deep-sea explorer, and giving hugs and kind words at just the right moment. Your sister loves to snuggle soft toys, especially her bunny, and say "Awww!" while she give them a hug. She loves singing and joins in on the last word of each phrase of the songs she knows. She's starting to understand that other people have wants and needs and she loves asking about them. Like today when she asked if my crackers were all gone, and then asked, "Mommy, more crackers?" wondering if I wanted more. Oh, and of course she loves food. It's probably her true passion.<br />
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Though Eva is a little too young to understand that you're coming, Nathaniel understands quite well, and he can't wait. You should have seen the look on his face when I told him that tomorrow, Daddy and I would be going to the hospital where the doctor would help you be born. He ran right over to Grandma Kimi and excitedly told her the good news, which of course, she already knew!<br />
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This pregnancy has gone by so slowly and so quickly all at once. I think about you every day, and I feel a calm assurance that you're coming to our family and coming at this time by design. This pregnancy has been hard on me, and yet, I feel so deeply that you are worth all I've been through and overflowingly more.<br />
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I wanted you before I even new you were coming. A week or two before I found out I was pregnant with you, I attended a conference all about families in Salt Lake City. I thought so much about my own family and felt such gratitude for the shape our family had already taken. And I was already looking forward to the day when we'd have another child in our home. Wouldn't it be fun, I thought, if I was pregnant with that baby right now? Well, it turns out, I was pregnant with you. Right then. I just didn't know it.<br />
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And tomorrow morning, at 6am, we're to be at the hospital where they'll start the induction process. And then a few or many hours later, I hope to be holding you in my very own arms and kissing your very little cheeks.<br />
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Until tomorrow, then. I'll see you soon.<br />
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Love,<br />
Momma</div>
Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-493896182930755312016-07-02T23:28:00.001-06:002016-07-02T23:30:44.212-06:00Lessons from today's anxiety <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This afternoon I was floundering in a sea anxiety. I've had depression/anxiety for long enough now that I'm a lot better at identifying when I'm feeling actual anxiety or sadness that needs to be taken care of in a normal way, and when it's emotion brought on by whatever hormonal/chemical/psychological imbalance that is ppd. This afternoon's episode was definitely the second type. One warning sign for me is I'll find myself irrationally impatient with my kids. Entirely unable to roll with their toddler quirks. It's a weakness I have confidence can be overcome, but let's be honest, I'm not there yet. Thankfully Chris was around to help take some of the parenting pressure off of me. His help enabled me to have the mental faculties to really learn from today's anxiety episode.<br />
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I was hoping, when I realized what was happening, that the rush of irrational anxiety was brought on because baby was coming asap. That maybe my body was sending out all kinds of "get ready for labor" hormones and that's why I felt so terrible. Baby hasn't come yet, nor do we seem to be immediately heading in that direction, so I'll have to wait and see if that hypothesis will hold true.<br />
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But regardless, my emotions peaked, and for about 20 minutes or so, I just sat and felt the feelings. Some of the time I held on to the couch, turned so I could hug the back cushion for support. I felt like I was shaking, though I'm not sure it would have been noticeable to someone else. And I felt worry, distress, frustration, inadeqacy, weariness, uncertainty, all banging around in me. None of those feelings had a clear focus, like, "I'm worried about x, y and z" which is another clear sign for me that it's a hormonal episode, not a rational one. It was just a general cacophony of those emotions nobody enjoys feeling. A blech-y mess of feels that I'd probably never choose if the choice were mine.<br />
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And almost imperceptibly, the episode faded out. I helped my children again, changed a stinky diaper, even made dinner for the family. And I felt like me again. Still tired, still very pregant, but somehow, still moving forward and meeting the challenges of the evening.<br />
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The ability to survive such episodes without seeking to block them out, without trying to numb the discomfort, comes only through the enabling power of the atonement of Jesus Christ. The power to keep moving forward afterwards and do what has to be done in daily life is the enabling power of the atonement of Jesus Christ. The incresed acceptance and peace that I feel about the future comes because of the enabling power of the atonement of Jesus Christ.<br />
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This is a gift that He extends to everyone. In Isaiah, the Lord asks, "is my hand shortened at all that it cannot redeem, or have I no power to deliver?" And the answer, "Behold, at my rebuke I dry up the sea, I make their rivers a wilderness and their fish to stink because the waters are dried up, and they die because of thirst. I clothe the heavens with blackness, and I make sackcloth their covering." (Is. 50: 2-3)<br />
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Trust in that hand. It is not shortened. Trust in that power. It is not diminished. If ppd has taught me anything, it's taught me to trust more in that hand and power. I invite you to join me on that journey. Come, and we'll keep moving towards more perfect trust and faith and hope and together.</div>
Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-34312052135044545522016-04-23T20:52:00.001-06:002016-04-23T20:59:38.289-06:00Done any good?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A couple days ago, I took the kids shopping at the grocery store. At the checkout a twenty-something-year-old gal, who was standing behind me in line, asked if I'd like her to help me bag while the cashier was checking out our food. I readily accepted. It was such a small thing really, and yet it meant so much to me. She saw a woman about her own age, with two toddlers and a swelling belly, saw a way she might help, and simply offered. God bless that girl. She did good in the world that day. And I want to emulate her example.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(We filmed this my sophomore year of college. You can find me at about 1:00)</span></div>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-19259009107885307572016-04-17T23:08:00.000-06:002016-04-17T23:08:46.118-06:00Speaking of which...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">So you know how my last blog post I mentioned not being able to choose the time and place of your meltdown? </span></div>
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Yeah. That happened today. </div>
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During the closing song of sacrament meeting, I totally broke down crying, almost sobbing. And right afterwards I was supposed to go teach singing to the primary kids. And likely about half the ladies at church thought I was having a nervous breakdown. It seems kind of funny now, but in the moment it was kind of dramatic. </div>
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I'm exceedingly grateful for all my friends who reached out in word and deed. A hug, tissues, an understanding smile, a word of encouragement. I'm surrounded by good friends and family.</div>
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P.S. Oh yeah, and I found out on Friday that I have gestational diabetes. Failed my 1-hr glucose test with flying colors. Nice.</div>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-13263200526339172192016-04-13T23:58:00.000-06:002016-04-13T23:58:12.553-06:00What depression looks like right now.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I can feel it coming. It's this gradual build-up of negative emotions: frustration, tiredness, and sadness, mostly. They pile up within me and I start to notice I have less ability to roll with the punches of life. I'm impatient with my children, going from simple direction to loud demands in almost an instant when their compliance seems unlikely. I'm harder on myself. I have less willingness to do any of the numerous household tasks that pile up, and then am berating myself for not doing better. And other times, an apathy towards all commitments seeps in. Life seems so daunting. I just want to hide for awhile and not have to face things.<br />
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The build-up can't last though. Eventually the dam bursts. Tears flood and then I can pick up and keep going. But the flood doesn't really come at a time of my choosing. And the longer it builds, the more painful it is when the breakthrough finally does happen. I wish I could figure out how to let it out on my own timing. Then I'd just have a good cry once the kids were in bed. No one would get hurt in the downpour. But because I haven't found, or may not be able to find a release switch, pain and frustration and sorrow build until I want to grab the nearest person's face in my hands and cry out, "I am NOT okay!!"<br />
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My friends and family don't need to have that weight flung at them at its heaviest. And I don't want them to have to put up with my increasing anxiety, lack of connection, and impatience until the dam finally bursts.<br />
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I will continue to try and deal with this healthily. Tonight, I just need for someone else to see this burden. I'm not asking you to take it away. All I'm asking is for you to say:<br />
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I see you. I see your burden. And I love you anyways.<br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-45738493557073133962016-03-25T23:04:00.000-06:002016-03-25T23:04:22.907-06:00Eva Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Eva says so many words. She has over 50 now, and I even heard her put two of them together in a pseudo-sentence a couple of days ago. Here's a list of some of my favorites:<br />
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"DAH-doo" = water<br />
"beesh" = brush (as in brush her teeth)<br />
"tar(s)" = car(s)<br />
"MI-mi" = bunny (she LOVES her stuffed bunny)<br />
"boss" = blocks<br />
"BEH-ee" = belly<br />
"byoo" = blue<br />
"BAH-bist" = breakfast<br />
"lush" = lunch<br />
"TUH-tee"= cookie<br />
"CHEY-oh-uh" = chair<br />
"piz-OH" = puzzle<br />
"bup" = book<br />
"sauce" = socks<br />
"sah" = song<br />
"has" = I want that<br />
"tyoo" = me too!<br />
"hud" = hug<br />
"bed" = blanket<br />
"chees" = cheeks<br />
"ah yoo" = I love you<br />
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Momma loves you too, my little sugar plum.<br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-85558556345474950162016-03-02T19:47:00.000-07:002016-03-02T19:47:18.542-07:00Ten Minutes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's hard for me to want to spend time outside. I can't quite figure out why. I like the indoors, and not so much the outdoors. Tonight, Chris took the kids out to the back yard to help Nathan learn to ride his bike and to play ball with the kids. I found myself wanting to go with them, and at the same time wanting to just sit inside and look at my phone (the pull of the screen is stronger than I'd like it to be). This day, I took the better path and went outside. I set a timer for 10 minutes and told myself, "You can sit not touching your phone or reading a book or doing anything but watching and interacting with your family outside for 10 minutes. You don't have to do more than that right now, but if you don't do at least that much, you'll regret it."<br />
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I'm glad I went. And I even stayed longer than ten minutes.</div>
Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-60656426200276959212016-01-15T19:56:00.000-07:002016-01-15T19:56:33.045-07:00Focus on what you can do<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are asked to serve and extended specific callings from our leaders. In October three new apostles were called by the prophet, Thomas S. Monson, to serve as special witnesses of Christ. Over the last couple months I have enjoyed repeatedly returning to <a href="https://www.lds.org/general-conference/speakers/2015/10?lang=eng" target="_blank">listen to their messages</a>. Each expressed in word and through their countenance a feeling of humility (almost a degree of shock in some cases). And then each bore powerful witnesses of Jesus Christ that have been sent to all the world. <div>
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Elder Stevenson described his call and then shared this impression he received as he agonized over his inadequacies: "focus not on what I can’t do but rather on what I can do."</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.ldscdn.org/images/videos/general-conference/october-2015-general-conference/2015-10-4030-elder-gary-e-stevenson-590x331-ldsorg-article.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://media.ldscdn.org/images/videos/general-conference/october-2015-general-conference/2015-10-4030-elder-gary-e-stevenson-590x331-ldsorg-article.jpg" height="179" title="Elder Gary E Stevenson" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">"focus not on what I can’t do but rather on what I can do."</td></tr>
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When we receive a new call (and sometimes when we've had a calling for a while), it's easy to run over and over in our minds the things we can't do. We feel unqualified because we lack certain abilities. Our calling may take a lot of time and we miss the things we used to do during that time. Maybe we miss the close association we had with other members in our previous calling. Maybe we miss attending a meeting that we no longer go to. </div>
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I've felt all of these things at one time or other. Tonight, as I listened again to Elder Stevenson's counsel, I feel a renewed desire to change my focus. Focus on what I <i>can</i> do. I think that's the way to greater happiness and faith.</div>
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Want to join me? </div>
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As a Primary Music Leader:</div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I can sing my favorite Primary songs</li>
<li>I can teach small children and older children (and even adults too, though sometimes they don't realize they're being included in the lesson ;)</li>
<li>I can see bright smiles on young faces as we sing and move and joyfully discuss gospel principles</li>
<li>I can help set a tone that will invite the Holy Ghost to Primary</li>
<li>I can get to know many families in our ward through their children</li>
<li>I can be all of the children's teacher</li>
<li>I can hear them as they call out "Hi! Sis. Machado!" each Sunday</li>
<li>I can encourage other adults as they teach children</li>
<li>I can seek the Holy Ghost to be my constant companion</li>
<li>I can sing songs with the children that they will remember for the rest of their lives</li>
<li>I can hone my teaching skills</li>
<li>I can bear witness of Jesus Christ</li>
<li>I can bear witness of Heavenly Father's love for us</li>
<li>I can feel the Holy Ghost when we sing eternal truths (which comes so readily to the call of these small-bodied, spiritual giants)</li>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-69116054658689889652015-12-29T18:54:00.002-07:002015-12-29T18:54:36.628-07:00End of the day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Two-year-old Nathaniel is <i>really</i> good at pushing my buttons. Which says a lot more about me than it does about him. I mean, I have a lot of buttons to find and push. Teaching him each day, you can tell that he really does want to obey and wants to always be good, but it's really hard when you're only two!<br />
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Yesterday, Nathan was particularly good at finding all my buttons and pushing. each. one. By bedtime, I was more than ready to clock out from my job of being a momma. Once the littles were in bed, I turned on a show and folded some laundry. It took me just under an hour, and since the kiddos had been quiet for some time, I figured I'd risk sneaking into their bedroom to put their clothes away. Eva was sound asleep, but little Nathaniel was just quietly laying in bed with his eyes open, staring at the Christmas lights we put up in their room.<br />
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I didn't say anything to him, just put the clothes away. But once I finished I went over and gave that sweet head a kiss and told him I loved him. He asked in his sleepy little voice if I could get his teddy for him. No way I can turn that kid down when he asks me in that tired way. I found his bear, and you should have seen the big, slow smile that spread all across his face when he saw teddy. He whispered, "Thank you for getting my teddy, Momma!" several times as I hugged and kissed him goodnight.<br />
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Closing their door, I felt like the luckiest momma in the world. The least I can do to show my thanks for these small charges is to try once again to take the less traveled road of patience. Especially when they find my buttons and push. every. one.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4l7owVGOCF9Gd2iNdRzLBQP3IVQAyD8jMIJimNoBw0HG0cW_OI6f4NxsmXzWkE0TINr-P-5byWOkG4fkzZ6HgtbeqIUQgPURybFGUCcAXxIjnaJh-yfxLvZSYxQQCYb0oHdYLJZ_gXo/s1600/IMG_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4l7owVGOCF9Gd2iNdRzLBQP3IVQAyD8jMIJimNoBw0HG0cW_OI6f4NxsmXzWkE0TINr-P-5byWOkG4fkzZ6HgtbeqIUQgPURybFGUCcAXxIjnaJh-yfxLvZSYxQQCYb0oHdYLJZ_gXo/s320/IMG_0009.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's my boy.</td></tr>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-69721445551504829512015-10-13T23:39:00.000-06:002015-10-13T23:51:15.474-06:00Wonder Struck<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I want to remember this phase. There is such beauty, it almost melts me.<br />
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I am a home-body. I love being at home. I could stay in the house all day for even a couple of days and not miss going out. And I get to spend my days with my two small children.<br />
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Nathan says the most hilarious things. Today he said brightly while riding in the car, "Oops. I left my ear. I will pick it up." He loves to joke and tease you. Especially saying things the way he knows they aren't just to hear my reaction. Nathan loves to read too. He laughed a full belly laugh the other day when we read a book about a cat looking for his purr who was startled by a cuckoo clock. He brings me a book every day and says, "Mommy, read it, Please!" in his sing-song way. And anything that goes (trains, big-rigs, dump trucks, planes, cars, motorcycles) just fascinate him. He is so sweet to his sister. They sometimes giggle and play through nap-time and I often can't bring myself to put a stop to it. Nathan sings and dances and remembers so much. His mind is like a sponge that soaks up everything it sees.<br />
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Eva is learning how to show she understands what's going on around her. She'll mimic back several animal sounds if you do it first. Her horsey sound is a slobbery raspberry, she softly hisses like a snake, and her lion growl is so much fiercer than her petite frame belies. Eva crawls quickly and walks around the furniture. She loves taking hold of a finger from each of my hands and walking around the house. Eva will also speed-crawl into the kitchen when you aren't looking and forage for any food she may have dropped during meal time. Sometimes I think she drops the food on purpose so she can snack on it later. Eva loves to give open mouthed kisses and has 8 full teeth with two molars on the way, so you better believe those kisses are wet! My favorite is when she'll sneaky-kiss my face as I help her say her prayers at night. My eyes are closed and of a sudden slobbery lips are touching mine. Eva says "Ma-Ma" and "Da-da" and has started saying "hi!" especially when she sees herself in a mirror.<br />
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I've lived in a dark hole of anxiety and depression for so long, but since moving here my days are overwhelmingly bright and full. My mind and emotions aren't yet whole, but there is such a difference to the degree of depression. I feel more resilient, more able to become who I want to become. My home is staying cleaner than it's been, I'm finding time to pursue creativity through stitching, sewing, quilting, knitting. I feel more like me. Sometimes I dance in the grocery store just because I'm feeling bubbly. I'm sillier with my kids and have the emotional resources to imagine games with Nathaniel.<br />
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I don't know how to describe all the beauty in my life right now and this list is far from comprehensive. And too, not all is easy and perfect and good. The children scream. The dishes still pile (not to mention the clean <i>and</i> dirty laundry). I falter often and still have raw, fragile emotional times. But the predominant feeling is one of grateful wonderment at what a season of life this is.<br />
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I know it won't last. Some financial or physical or spiritual or mental or familial hardship will come. It has to, or I wouldn't grow into who I'm meant to. But I wanted to record this tranquil oasis in my life. I want to look back on it when the seas are rough again and be able to treasure that feeling and trust that the calm will someday reappear. It is a bliss I hope we all will have a chance to taste.<br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-20552685960508925502015-09-29T23:53:00.002-06:002015-09-29T23:53:53.001-06:00Impenetrable Fortress of Iron<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I read <a href="http://thesmallseed.com/2015/04/scripture-sunday-anne-cropper/" target="_blank">this blog post</a> and looked closer at the scripture she describes. It's in Jeremiah, chapter 1, verse 18:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"...I have made thee this day a defenced city, and an iron pillar, and brasen walls against the whole land..."</blockquote>
I had to look up "<a href="https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/defenced" target="_blank">defenced</a>". It turns out it's the past participle of the verb "defence." Not the noun, mind you, the verb. "To defence" means to fortify, to furnish with defenses. So if I understand correctly, God is telling Jeremiah that He has made him into the equivalent of an impenetrable (brasen) fortress (defenced city) complete with iron fortifications. Pretty strong stuff.<br />
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Then in the next verse:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"And they shall fight against thee; but they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee, saith the LORD, to deliver thee."</blockquote>
I have to remind myself that God has also covenanted with me. I covenanted to always remember Him and keep His commandments when I was baptized, and I renew that covenant by partaking of the sacramental bread and water each Sunday at church. God promised me that I would always have His Spirit to be with me. In essence, that He would be with me.<br />
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I can't give in to my weaknesses and failings. I've been made into sterner stuff: a walled fortress that cannot be penetrated.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsFGzqvXl8P5BhoEk9PG_8Sv66hyphenhyphenr59bbeC6J9nPdG4S-SGC0u7KvTRdmcFDZ_Ld-zbOCrPctBj9IrchxtDdw2i2C6ZCWYWRuZcnXJgBRX-C5ReFWRi1m06CP99YYVQtBycxiGDlTAYA/s1600/noun_175316_cc.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsFGzqvXl8P5BhoEk9PG_8Sv66hyphenhyphenr59bbeC6J9nPdG4S-SGC0u7KvTRdmcFDZ_Ld-zbOCrPctBj9IrchxtDdw2i2C6ZCWYWRuZcnXJgBRX-C5ReFWRi1m06CP99YYVQtBycxiGDlTAYA/s200/noun_175316_cc.png" title="Fortress" width="200" /></a></div>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-78771623339328198262015-09-03T13:09:00.002-06:002015-09-03T13:09:35.055-06:00Baby signing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
About 2.5 months ago, I checked out a book on baby sign language for Eva. She was screaming all the time. As in, if you sat her down on the floor she'd let out a really loud scream and then play for a minute happily as if nothing had happened, and then scream again, and then play some more. She'd scream in the car if she felt she'd been in there too long, or if the light was red for longer than she wanted. It was really not our favorite phase. Ignoring the screams helped, and so did some other things we tried, but I just felt like my girl needed an extra way to communicate... especially in a way that wasn't so grating on our nerves!<br />
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So, with a little bit of knowledge and an eye towards the long term, I began teaching her to sign "more".<br />
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And today, after many weeks, she started signing it. I'm so excited! She's starting to grasp the concept! And it makes my heart so happy!<br /><br />Take a look:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyb0ROOrrSKbox6GisThEdd85Hn1QYdawMR-C1D57ylx7w8jChGD22-uikV8Lt3BP4veNPyosYa-dPCYjbH1g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-73330427259186109372015-07-30T17:26:00.000-06:002015-07-30T17:26:32.932-06:00Sharing suckers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I was a kid I would have thought this was so gross.<br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-83353875478900373312015-07-26T23:29:00.002-06:002015-07-26T23:29:36.271-06:00Bind up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Do you ever see the turmoil in another's soul and yearn to make it all better? I see fellow women, sisters, brothers, and men, friends and family, hurting and aching. Perceived and real injustices. Tragic health challenges. Selfishness. Thoughtlessness. Heartache.<br />
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When my little nine-month-old is sad, it's relatively easy for me to help make it better. She usually needs a hug and attention. Sometimes she just needs to be held or fed. Kisses and smooches go a long way to helping her feel at peace again.<br />
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With older humans, it seems not so simple.<br />
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I want to bind up the broken hearted. I want to proclaim liberty to the captive. I want to give praise for heaviness, beauty for ashes.<br />
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But I in my limited mortal mind haven't the foggiest idea of what to do.<br /><br />Thankfully and joyfully, I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe that He suffered and died that He might know perfectly how to do <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/ot/isa/61.1-3?lang=eng#primary" target="_blank">all of those things</a>: bind up, proclaim, and give. And because I believe those things, I also believe that He expects me to do what I can to aid Him in this work. And like the <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/1-ne/3.7?lang=eng#6" target="_blank">prophet Nephi</a>, "I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them."<br />
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I am but a fallen mortal, who can do nothing of myself, but I wish to try. Do you want to try with me?<br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-40691311657436995642015-06-24T16:44:00.003-06:002015-06-24T16:44:44.194-06:00New Adventures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Back in January, Chris started looking for a full time teaching position. Last month, we finally found one! Quickly everything fell into place and we're now living in beautiful Boise, Idaho. We are near family and are making lots of new friends. Our ward has been particularly welcoming and we are loving it here.<br />
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Since it's been a few months since the last post, here's an overview of what we've been up to told in pictures.<br />
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March:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8VDTtkWUPrPyTD_Nd0porU03q4YiVduG_GxhYcLXlTAPTDsEig253M0k6GJwcrwThrM7PZfcH-a1Z7hJZTF-T1-Tnnxg-Sg6YVm8jJ_bealhL8CQcshgtJXSnh7bQWRGGeVnxHFOIy4/s1600/IMG_0595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8VDTtkWUPrPyTD_Nd0porU03q4YiVduG_GxhYcLXlTAPTDsEig253M0k6GJwcrwThrM7PZfcH-a1Z7hJZTF-T1-Tnnxg-Sg6YVm8jJ_bealhL8CQcshgtJXSnh7bQWRGGeVnxHFOIy4/s320/IMG_0595.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In March, we visited our friends the Smith's in the Bay Area</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNNAB_zcTA2i4CAdpnJK80Rk11fGnLonPm7-gkWgLJC4UfXtIZOhTTJ3r78WK2HipKDxJS0Igj61vteejCr3g08C7TFqvJuSX-jKqx5nr4NdOxBNyksInbFRE0PympMerLNnusPSgYmRo/s1600/IMG_0600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNNAB_zcTA2i4CAdpnJK80Rk11fGnLonPm7-gkWgLJC4UfXtIZOhTTJ3r78WK2HipKDxJS0Igj61vteejCr3g08C7TFqvJuSX-jKqx5nr4NdOxBNyksInbFRE0PympMerLNnusPSgYmRo/s320/IMG_0600.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nathan chasing after his friend, Jackson</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnDWhReBJx0VgdErwpZ4wjk-zmQK6B9lEhVoO-lTuzJMQ48l5Id_ref1DsWz-IOqWwvgnF9dTf4yY4coCkZdPfjjJPj-rnaizyIFRC_NWKkVFkYWfrqBMLmL3TTFao7fJCvl2hyphenhyphenOgh6R8/s1600/IMG_0613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnDWhReBJx0VgdErwpZ4wjk-zmQK6B9lEhVoO-lTuzJMQ48l5Id_ref1DsWz-IOqWwvgnF9dTf4yY4coCkZdPfjjJPj-rnaizyIFRC_NWKkVFkYWfrqBMLmL3TTFao7fJCvl2hyphenhyphenOgh6R8/s320/IMG_0613.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smiling with the view from the Oakland Temple behind us</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZOy8jh6iGzB_5gGK5ip7rlKRL7yl2cou-k1yndVfbnhyc-9c-TsCDOxozYV6Kzj2myU1PqsL0eUCp3Ewn2c-La2ZUmikA1BRob9OfsWJBxCJY2C58uIu_3QNsNXKvE3NOyyARN_PojA/s1600/IMG_0618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZOy8jh6iGzB_5gGK5ip7rlKRL7yl2cou-k1yndVfbnhyc-9c-TsCDOxozYV6Kzj2myU1PqsL0eUCp3Ewn2c-La2ZUmikA1BRob9OfsWJBxCJY2C58uIu_3QNsNXKvE3NOyyARN_PojA/s320/IMG_0618.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eva at the Oakland Temple</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ62PdhbZ5N066psAv0vSB3peqzvmg-Y1lvzni7L6k2x6oY4bTIl53CtkSxmX80oahlBe-bNakClz4qIvBzLEQzOIR8lSWbZqhOfY9IM4t3Tu19-M7CY8MsiYSRAozYpENRrOmPVNijKQ/s1600/IMG_0663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ62PdhbZ5N066psAv0vSB3peqzvmg-Y1lvzni7L6k2x6oY4bTIl53CtkSxmX80oahlBe-bNakClz4qIvBzLEQzOIR8lSWbZqhOfY9IM4t3Tu19-M7CY8MsiYSRAozYpENRrOmPVNijKQ/s320/IMG_0663.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris and Nathan at Golden Gate Bridge</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXB6bH0mehX3nrf-QAej4BeqcFonpAX5U9UhZzurfrB6GRv7jygKvtfMcOdIHwZHTtJ8yWPf2a4JxEq5HUq8hfUiGyvZKlgpGqZZNoq3ifq3knVtr7W_S_WfpTCYt0OBLb2YP87WKf84/s1600/IMG_0676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXB6bH0mehX3nrf-QAej4BeqcFonpAX5U9UhZzurfrB6GRv7jygKvtfMcOdIHwZHTtJ8yWPf2a4JxEq5HUq8hfUiGyvZKlgpGqZZNoq3ifq3knVtr7W_S_WfpTCYt0OBLb2YP87WKf84/s320/IMG_0676.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We also visited Chris's Great Aunt Kathy and <br />Great-Grandma while in California</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTeJY0yg-n9Nal1hX561E9x3ZbuuIV49Ul0D2bvTIo13I2r3rcPMpPNGfP4o2ukN_9QBnAXoiTUDQ3uxVMsJo_u-ergAsx4i4sK5iEGZjSrhRW3dkRDgUNB_DSvvYc2kaAGO9OPr-9D6c/s1600/IMG_0680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTeJY0yg-n9Nal1hX561E9x3ZbuuIV49Ul0D2bvTIo13I2r3rcPMpPNGfP4o2ukN_9QBnAXoiTUDQ3uxVMsJo_u-ergAsx4i4sK5iEGZjSrhRW3dkRDgUNB_DSvvYc2kaAGO9OPr-9D6c/s320/IMG_0680.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris's Great-Grandma with Eva (So that's her Great-Great-Grandaughter)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKA2W97DW_ILoZ0Suoj3krn0LJhkgtQpDaHIbFM53ZZvA8CECcGD1yR9eMfC51YttD2bVXGpo0_1C4euC1AK6K8ze1BGaMkfMXIqPGsGGKWA6yLa2t4417ld3Pz3fKmyAyartvG1yYu24/s1600/IMG_0700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKA2W97DW_ILoZ0Suoj3krn0LJhkgtQpDaHIbFM53ZZvA8CECcGD1yR9eMfC51YttD2bVXGpo0_1C4euC1AK6K8ze1BGaMkfMXIqPGsGGKWA6yLa2t4417ld3Pz3fKmyAyartvG1yYu24/s320/IMG_0700.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's a span of 5 generations in this photo</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDMQLtUYHEFLLQerIGNU6ki1n4YH0IHoMsrVbJJUeFrl_Nn0hxek8ab8DbTCAesymM9uH_3YCQxNsilut1goMdGx2eeBcIMv-YJMnVuHae2M1NeKoF4zVRs6vLGkWzXtrvJ9joVK8AP8/s1600/IMG_0710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDMQLtUYHEFLLQerIGNU6ki1n4YH0IHoMsrVbJJUeFrl_Nn0hxek8ab8DbTCAesymM9uH_3YCQxNsilut1goMdGx2eeBcIMv-YJMnVuHae2M1NeKoF4zVRs6vLGkWzXtrvJ9joVK8AP8/s320/IMG_0710.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Kathy making Eva smile</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWz68HE13LnkacLf0lURlAgsoTjK1RhfJZkTADqypok4_bNNRgmXJJBHjp2P8hyvqcevwQdihIvHKFH2qpVMrbArK3DgDBrCX-1jR3LumhS6cUg3la5BZfvWKRYSFKy5oG0FrwAau6qdE/s1600/IMG_0778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWz68HE13LnkacLf0lURlAgsoTjK1RhfJZkTADqypok4_bNNRgmXJJBHjp2P8hyvqcevwQdihIvHKFH2qpVMrbArK3DgDBrCX-1jR3LumhS6cUg3la5BZfvWKRYSFKy5oG0FrwAau6qdE/s320/IMG_0778.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nathaniel turned two!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbcaI64BgJJpQ5ZAX1rISCS_F0rthADfPGSDq6HsSR7tUKLKehyphenhyphentjkteTvXqSuaPBZvDcCyk7QqZXJ8TrYrzVK2TmzGQPqkpSZTgDsXIzyWRJLsRHuoGFBJvLOrANrMAOD-pdPmzeFZ-8/s1600/IMG_0808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbcaI64BgJJpQ5ZAX1rISCS_F0rthADfPGSDq6HsSR7tUKLKehyphenhyphentjkteTvXqSuaPBZvDcCyk7QqZXJ8TrYrzVK2TmzGQPqkpSZTgDsXIzyWRJLsRHuoGFBJvLOrANrMAOD-pdPmzeFZ-8/s320/IMG_0808.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bought a potted plant, Nathan liked watering it</td></tr>
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April:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yZL9hHWa5ZKOUJQ5N6z1K7IsnBnYxhi9hzenmIYBZP04PFXRUOQbDptJIRexSq7MG_ilLA15DbQv5r6g_KvG_9LZ_gyxQqk8868dxAgVYUHQDe0WLVjCUM6qHFFrk0idBVlTOGGvoZc/s1600/IMG_0950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yZL9hHWa5ZKOUJQ5N6z1K7IsnBnYxhi9hzenmIYBZP04PFXRUOQbDptJIRexSq7MG_ilLA15DbQv5r6g_KvG_9LZ_gyxQqk8868dxAgVYUHQDe0WLVjCUM6qHFFrk0idBVlTOGGvoZc/s320/IMG_0950.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Abbie came and visited during her spring break</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiicMytpeZ4AJ3FvIzFaApH8_akpMxgxkX5oxItCbzV2KnCIHgbKmPTVBDQms4aiWsxS3X5VL15qLjb9Ck8hOP1NMDuM-Hlb5nCI6Si-0lS41gVMTFH1sxvRkIulsf2Va7KbS3TUuy7Uks/s1600/IMG_1066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiicMytpeZ4AJ3FvIzFaApH8_akpMxgxkX5oxItCbzV2KnCIHgbKmPTVBDQms4aiWsxS3X5VL15qLjb9Ck8hOP1NMDuM-Hlb5nCI6Si-0lS41gVMTFH1sxvRkIulsf2Va7KbS3TUuy7Uks/s320/IMG_1066.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We went and stayed at my parent's house for General Conference/Easter</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0IoGcztuxIVA6To7NoqYwhFyBNMCCZHCfXCXtrQhgl4AfL86i_g9oh715H22TWsD1nfMUY_Q-1gufdf3DQaAN_ktXFytSpzGleI0YTKoUDQqrr1u4PRjQS2YPwAngfeYSCIaWSf393Qk/s1600/IMG_1071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0IoGcztuxIVA6To7NoqYwhFyBNMCCZHCfXCXtrQhgl4AfL86i_g9oh715H22TWsD1nfMUY_Q-1gufdf3DQaAN_ktXFytSpzGleI0YTKoUDQqrr1u4PRjQS2YPwAngfeYSCIaWSf393Qk/s320/IMG_1071.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter Egg hunt in Grandma's basement</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYasKc_WRdSg0-RqsQC3J869Z4xXNxzas8EzFP0D8d3fli43If_or8WHmHpjI54VG1BmtbpwaxFkz1W4ILTaDHMT28UGttRq_-AtONxpa0VplyG-itajMOVoorS2pZHqGETQnhFS0rYic/s1600/IMG_1095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYasKc_WRdSg0-RqsQC3J869Z4xXNxzas8EzFP0D8d3fli43If_or8WHmHpjI54VG1BmtbpwaxFkz1W4ILTaDHMT28UGttRq_-AtONxpa0VplyG-itajMOVoorS2pZHqGETQnhFS0rYic/s320/IMG_1095.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma sword fighting with Nathan, she taught him to say "En garde!"<br /> which he pronounced, "On dard!"</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwAKMWmrCMZJus-r4clIN4yL7dRpU4M3hhyphenhyphenezsXIEItaObM2957rGHtIgn58Tx2T7OZ_hHuyZghysUZeaKldFFNTU2GZNsmsk_8fFuHylm7QQuuTRr1izy8GDRzQaEgNEXYeaHjIGoa8g/s1600/IMG_1197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwAKMWmrCMZJus-r4clIN4yL7dRpU4M3hhyphenhyphenezsXIEItaObM2957rGHtIgn58Tx2T7OZ_hHuyZghysUZeaKldFFNTU2GZNsmsk_8fFuHylm7QQuuTRr1izy8GDRzQaEgNEXYeaHjIGoa8g/s320/IMG_1197.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Provo City outdoor event at Rock Canyon Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYjglj4JR2oNOl_HrbllX0Hm53KpzTEA1zP6TLLn2LQ-TeDGN6MxPIOpNuIB_ExB373nUhZPuAWX8i8eYNebFkP8VQ4d4zw3I_Rb4dcqGXAjq2JDAydu1rx_keQtf1DHszhd8moV31io/s1600/IMG_1210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYjglj4JR2oNOl_HrbllX0Hm53KpzTEA1zP6TLLn2LQ-TeDGN6MxPIOpNuIB_ExB373nUhZPuAWX8i8eYNebFkP8VQ4d4zw3I_Rb4dcqGXAjq2JDAydu1rx_keQtf1DHszhd8moV31io/s320/IMG_1210.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nathan got to ride a pony at the Provo City event</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OYqt7H1g64OsefQcL0uOuDhVNszSN1nUVt53hDw50QEGykTEucsfG7nJcxXZdMqBBkgFdFYmO1x-p52LtKOP3v82moRGJ8KWTZ5VMURHpR-wcR-C2_OUP8xBc7R860TXADHBf7R5Kj8/s1600/IMG_1254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OYqt7H1g64OsefQcL0uOuDhVNszSN1nUVt53hDw50QEGykTEucsfG7nJcxXZdMqBBkgFdFYmO1x-p52LtKOP3v82moRGJ8KWTZ5VMURHpR-wcR-C2_OUP8xBc7R860TXADHBf7R5Kj8/s320/IMG_1254.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eva's first time swimming</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijsSgleVkk7h_FD2691H8aQMdPNI2eMIp0414rNDNY5E8351fEgKadLCLn8acO_U11mB30vzRw945QIg9FbU5bp2Rr16ajA2zm4fiyfVokUfR2S5IGMJhdZw45NPbI5P9j0MEyZDN-0ro/s1600/IMG_1715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijsSgleVkk7h_FD2691H8aQMdPNI2eMIp0414rNDNY5E8351fEgKadLCLn8acO_U11mB30vzRw945QIg9FbU5bp2Rr16ajA2zm4fiyfVokUfR2S5IGMJhdZw45NPbI5P9j0MEyZDN-0ro/s320/IMG_1715.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris's graduation!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk87i7TCCkbYLYY-EPBKm-GBQcFmH6es2k_aZbHT7ipe48ZuMxTwIBV0ldViT1S8e0-USE9n7poEX9nirBcOOV4F9aRp68rXsayD4D1bmq0CRFIJcV10cpjoDG8_Et0uBNzWZegEX5V5U/s1600/IMG_1261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk87i7TCCkbYLYY-EPBKm-GBQcFmH6es2k_aZbHT7ipe48ZuMxTwIBV0ldViT1S8e0-USE9n7poEX9nirBcOOV4F9aRp68rXsayD4D1bmq0CRFIJcV10cpjoDG8_Et0uBNzWZegEX5V5U/s320/IMG_1261.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I embroidered bacon and eggs on the inside panel of his robes</td></tr>
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May:<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcsAwX1AoCjcDlMsA10reEcIm_E1dow_3pXsbQdkTprRiRa7N0domCYZjCyBZT1BfmonwQ-RJARC23J9Mb2sP6w3uvve8fgyWMZFThtHdmjK1R2aSLyN3h0j-hypq3Zc5V3r7c7vB4iE/s1600/IMG_1287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcsAwX1AoCjcDlMsA10reEcIm_E1dow_3pXsbQdkTprRiRa7N0domCYZjCyBZT1BfmonwQ-RJARC23J9Mb2sP6w3uvve8fgyWMZFThtHdmjK1R2aSLyN3h0j-hypq3Zc5V3r7c7vB4iE/s320/IMG_1287.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nathan and Grandma drinking chocolate milk</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMv_rP14bjlLC6uYemECcNtrm_T2sBxptPdj_mNwmq9hXYMN27flT8qm_75jAsJZjexaCb3f8C3w91vZnYU14009fKIPV6RrN40bRw0iPeZYUI9w6WLsnLuqfHiW3P4lYRnGF5kEf5eU/s1600/IMG_1390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMv_rP14bjlLC6uYemECcNtrm_T2sBxptPdj_mNwmq9hXYMN27flT8qm_75jAsJZjexaCb3f8C3w91vZnYU14009fKIPV6RrN40bRw0iPeZYUI9w6WLsnLuqfHiW3P4lYRnGF5kEf5eU/s320/IMG_1390.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eva playing with cousin Luke</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxU3Vdacpj1o_D7KrGtFe2wtaBc2F-hIU9NlQRfxsyfBqY8wWRicfSXNUZshNvCdYQZtpoZ6Qf68qP-kbRHJzROet8Xc27eV7NDODviWcrxB-YzGYbGRtXCTe4I7xngE0FZub1K0a-pgc/s1600/IMG_1443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxU3Vdacpj1o_D7KrGtFe2wtaBc2F-hIU9NlQRfxsyfBqY8wWRicfSXNUZshNvCdYQZtpoZ6Qf68qP-kbRHJzROet8Xc27eV7NDODviWcrxB-YzGYbGRtXCTe4I7xngE0FZub1K0a-pgc/s320/IMG_1443.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big smiles at Grandma Kimi's house</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjtsdxt7Xlka7JnMD8ShL8HxLAz6DC2pIzmvxuIKh10YeTn_q2pE4lh_kCTsyllNudkOK726ofbc9eLnTu747AJHnr_01uB2fQpu_AQ-NtjbNeUAYsWZj0M7sVoHcQrcITBP0NauNaxs/s1600/IMG_1493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjtsdxt7Xlka7JnMD8ShL8HxLAz6DC2pIzmvxuIKh10YeTn_q2pE4lh_kCTsyllNudkOK726ofbc9eLnTu747AJHnr_01uB2fQpu_AQ-NtjbNeUAYsWZj0M7sVoHcQrcITBP0NauNaxs/s320/IMG_1493.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A new dress to match her big smile</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiniD0tudqeC72qpjk3bDV6Fn3Uu0VfxkUj-3i0_A4PMmlOuOU913WRh3y5xu495WGQiG9g5D0gStIT292INO-Nx8OjPl__ipKCGDB0XfkzwRgoopJYsZO0yLkGrMtwlcCDepPKBIFRTI/s1600/IMG_1503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiniD0tudqeC72qpjk3bDV6Fn3Uu0VfxkUj-3i0_A4PMmlOuOU913WRh3y5xu495WGQiG9g5D0gStIT292INO-Nx8OjPl__ipKCGDB0XfkzwRgoopJYsZO0yLkGrMtwlcCDepPKBIFRTI/s320/IMG_1503.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Siblings. This picture melts my heart</td></tr>
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June:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfwwLSzbV8vjpSUo8DA5_KGC42b85GRKfJVF4OhlHfeGQNxz4MjL87H99wkNAioZvNREUKGbG3zF2zLIcCh_toN_zdmN2SYiJ8UbKrRxOC_oiM01nTFNtgLDx0wskcBqupMNxKc4RnlU/s1600/IMG_1616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfwwLSzbV8vjpSUo8DA5_KGC42b85GRKfJVF4OhlHfeGQNxz4MjL87H99wkNAioZvNREUKGbG3zF2zLIcCh_toN_zdmN2SYiJ8UbKrRxOC_oiM01nTFNtgLDx0wskcBqupMNxKc4RnlU/s320/IMG_1616.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our backyard! (well, at least one corner of it)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OBuqoBv-WsGpOUcJbgdRcJpiMDxbR-DsBkYt-K1wY7jnbNuJxbPDitfhizgaCdYLcGu_B4nk570twSKRU5r7d0Z4AeV7-oJnBddvmQajFOoBw80ZxJW77suyXRhH-eHhm83GrbnTFAU/s1600/IMG_1634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OBuqoBv-WsGpOUcJbgdRcJpiMDxbR-DsBkYt-K1wY7jnbNuJxbPDitfhizgaCdYLcGu_B4nk570twSKRU5r7d0Z4AeV7-oJnBddvmQajFOoBw80ZxJW77suyXRhH-eHhm83GrbnTFAU/s320/IMG_1634.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our front porch--it wraps around!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVV8X08_PHh3fYZvFxSUzntQPb0pasMHJVEiUXigDpr3JzwcwjYRKLobjFikRP_ABTXFFPFPezE2xyVKR3wMKfXGevZmGork0ngSuTyWnf59BxDhk_2zJq-gyOTZDAUkdG32DpJjeKu8/s1600/IMG_1664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVV8X08_PHh3fYZvFxSUzntQPb0pasMHJVEiUXigDpr3JzwcwjYRKLobjFikRP_ABTXFFPFPezE2xyVKR3wMKfXGevZmGork0ngSuTyWnf59BxDhk_2zJq-gyOTZDAUkdG32DpJjeKu8/s320/IMG_1664.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking to the library (only a 20 minute walk)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj15rK2jKPSLRVHIHcbBM_m17vwM9_gTO2eu9xe1AnXpdvVvDhOlAdpldpd8WUFejjJYRfC-Nh7xZ4AA0G2indkUwjfR73VVvWTqdilGAjFUZWQujx6ZhrOPqpCkZtPDZvDLhx4FKxzBkQ/s1600/IMG_1666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj15rK2jKPSLRVHIHcbBM_m17vwM9_gTO2eu9xe1AnXpdvVvDhOlAdpldpd8WUFejjJYRfC-Nh7xZ4AA0G2indkUwjfR73VVvWTqdilGAjFUZWQujx6ZhrOPqpCkZtPDZvDLhx4FKxzBkQ/s320/IMG_1666.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shopping with Grandma Kimi at Winco</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDnHw0yhF6U7bW8RF338AqHJ1zCYseN0V1WDQsdwwJ2BROFnkHvQawN21kxdpLWvq5yQpte-uggXPYIYNdcqSTabBttkefhD70oia1G6cNpir-daFAio7DIlWJgVfwy3X2GAWqRnIdkS0/s1600/IMG_1685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDnHw0yhF6U7bW8RF338AqHJ1zCYseN0V1WDQsdwwJ2BROFnkHvQawN21kxdpLWvq5yQpte-uggXPYIYNdcqSTabBttkefhD70oia1G6cNpir-daFAio7DIlWJgVfwy3X2GAWqRnIdkS0/s320/IMG_1685.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ward campout in Montour, ID</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7dgF1rvJuV0LFtAvL88wnhDsjIc77Bdlt69EDrKmCrJAtc30Jqz5xD40RLy0IMA_G8101H72cvaPceMSmXsj2DP9jPTMCCQ0KV-A4T_KcgMF2xCvevwoKAc9Fl2ApCIwPNRlh1GVPus/s1600/IMG_1694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7dgF1rvJuV0LFtAvL88wnhDsjIc77Bdlt69EDrKmCrJAtc30Jqz5xD40RLy0IMA_G8101H72cvaPceMSmXsj2DP9jPTMCCQ0KV-A4T_KcgMF2xCvevwoKAc9Fl2ApCIwPNRlh1GVPus/s320/IMG_1694.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy and the kiddos hanging out in the tent</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiv34im_te8yiFgQEqxOjRiS2CuAoiYWNId8ktpf0amVCY0eVCtLGuGEeAET67pN7NQHdSR3UfzWY_sIqiilIMNY4EpAc_3hXhbaXgCQUUn6-yWissgeZTrQjJddvL0yVWygmfC0xycIA/s1600/IMG_1733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiv34im_te8yiFgQEqxOjRiS2CuAoiYWNId8ktpf0amVCY0eVCtLGuGEeAET67pN7NQHdSR3UfzWY_sIqiilIMNY4EpAc_3hXhbaXgCQUUn6-yWissgeZTrQjJddvL0yVWygmfC0xycIA/s320/IMG_1733.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nathaniel is saying "cheese!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj78XXrttAmrrF_NXiEUkdKjsQw5f7Uqk_ZKwcOEKVIY8AbyvtAyytakUgNuYV9W4ui4XUWfhaq3f7bq49380vsgK_Md4h4wdavLACMIu2MbYRF3VNT75P6iiaf6vT09xh0cQ_u0BCwimk/s1600/IMG_1741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj78XXrttAmrrF_NXiEUkdKjsQw5f7Uqk_ZKwcOEKVIY8AbyvtAyytakUgNuYV9W4ui4XUWfhaq3f7bq49380vsgK_Md4h4wdavLACMIu2MbYRF3VNT75P6iiaf6vT09xh0cQ_u0BCwimk/s320/IMG_1741.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bathtime</td></tr>
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Life is <i>very</i> sweet!<br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053139842622318276.post-29860440872511869902015-01-26T10:33:00.000-07:002015-06-24T14:02:25.847-06:00Joy of Motherhood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ok. So it's been my experience that lots of people talk about how hard being a parent is. There are lots of well-meaning warnings about less sleep, long hours, challenges, emotional struggles, etc. And it's also been my experience that these things are <i>certainly</i> part of being a parent.<br />
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But it's not the only part.<br />
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I've talked to moms who seemed hesitant to describe the joyful things of parenthood and I myself have felt that reluctance. I think it's because I'm worried about making other moms feel bad if they aren't having a jolly good time. Most women are hard enough on themselves without anyone else's help thank you very much. But I just feel even more strongly that there's just not enough talk about the joy of parenthood. And to you, mother or father who isn't having fun and it's just feeling hard. That's. totally. ok.<br />
<br />
And right here and now. I'm going to share some of the joy I get from being a mom.<br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Sometimes I pick up Nathan from nursery at church. His whole face lights up and he runs over to me shouting, "Mommy!" This boy <i>loves</i> nursery, but he loves his mommy more.</li>
<li>Eva smiles at me and Chris like we are the coolest things she's ever seen. Yesterday she giggled at me just because I looked at her.</li>
<li>Nathaniel brings me books to read to him many times a day. He always laughs his "sheep/goat" laugh when he can tell I'm going to stop doing whatever it was I was doing and read to him.</li>
<li>The other day I was clacking a toy together and Nathaniel did this darling little dance where he grabbed his hands in front of him, and he twisted his torso back and forth while bobbing up and down. "I'n danseen!" he said with a huge grin on his face.</li>
<li>Eva talks to me and tells me everything. It comes out as grunts and snorts and coos, and she always looks so grateful that someone is listening and talking back.</li>
<li>Sometimes Nathan falls down or gets hurt. He comes running over, looks at me with those big beautiful eyes and asks sadly, "a better?" Of course, I kiss it better. How could I not?</li>
<li>Nathaniel wants to communicate. When I don't understand what he's saying, he keeps trying and sometimes will describe what he wants in a different way so I can understand. I'm amazed at his patience with me as I struggle to get it.</li>
<li>Eva has this little vibrating rocking chair thing. Nathan likes to pile toys on her while she's sitting in it. More than once I've looked over to see her half covered by teddies, car-cars, and toy tools.</li>
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Everything worthwhile has its ups and downs. We keep at it though because we feel like we're doing something meaningful. Being a mom is the most meaningful thing I've done in my whole life. So you know? I think I'll just keep on doing it.<br />
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Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15498703181285542851noreply@blogger.com4