tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53573029545831937322024-02-19T09:48:29.256-06:00shannonigans is now shannon's scribbles!please visit shannonscribbles.net for new postsShannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.comBlogger295125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-69836802550313760032017-05-08T12:51:00.002-05:002017-05-08T12:51:25.898-05:00New Blog! In case you haven't noticed, it's been quiet around here!<br />
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That's because I moved everything over to a new platform, new name, and new space.<br />
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You can now find me over at <a href="http://shannonscribbles.net/">shannonscribbles.net</a>.<br />
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Happy reading!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-46006906156568573912017-04-19T20:08:00.001-05:002017-04-19T20:12:28.765-05:00Read, Watched, Listened<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<i>I love reading just about everything, watching comedy and documentary-type things, and have wholeheartedly embrace the podcast. I also enjoy hearing about what other people are reading, watching, and listening. Here's my two cents worth.</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Reading while eating fresh chocolate chip cookies is thisclose to being a religious experience. </td></tr>
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<b>Read</b></div>
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<i><u><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1476723400/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1476723400&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=b8557fc959a1fbfef926032ce5335a1d%22%3EHungry%20Heart:%20Adventures%20in%20Life,%20Love,%20and%20Writing%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=1476723400%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">Hungry Heart</a></u></i><br />
I love reading memoirs, and ones from other creative people are especially interesting to me as they describe how they go about their own creative process. It's also interesting to get a bit of an "insider's view" of the publishing world. That said, I must confess that I've never read anything else that Jennifer Weiner has written, so it was a bit hard to relate when she described some of her other work. Beyond that, though, she has a fascinating and somewhat tragic personal narrative woven throughout, which she adds both brutal honesty and humor to.<br />
<i><u><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0399184511/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0399184511&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=8204aa73bf51da08ce05a8bd76588b18%22%3EThe%20Mothers:%20A%20Novel%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0399184511%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank"><br /></a></u></i>
<i><u><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0399184511/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0399184511&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=8204aa73bf51da08ce05a8bd76588b18%22%3EThe%20Mothers:%20A%20Novel%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0399184511%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">The Mothers</a></u></i><br />
LOVED IT! This is the best novel I have read in awhile. I know I'm slightly behind on giving this book some love, but if you haven't checked it out yet, it <i>needs </i>to be added to your list. The narration is very interesting (you never really meet the narrator) and brings up questions of whose stories are ours to tell. I fell in love with the characters and my only issue is all of the unanswered questions the book left me with. I have a love/hate relationship with books that don't tell me everything by the end.<br />
<i><u><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0310084601/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0310084601&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=a0f36a7721d045df438dea455c2143b4%22%3EThe%20Magic%20of%20Motherhood:%20The%20Good%20Stuff,%20the%20Hard%20Stuff,%20and%20Everything%20In%20Between%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0310084601%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank"><br /></a></u></i>
<i><u><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0310084601/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0310084601&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=a0f36a7721d045df438dea455c2143b4%22%3EThe%20Magic%20of%20Motherhood:%20The%20Good%20Stuff,%20the%20Hard%20Stuff,%20and%20Everything%20In%20Between%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0310084601%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">The Magic of Motherhood</a></u></i><br />
Written by the <a href="https://www.coffeeandcrumbs.net/" target="_blank">Coffee + Crumbs</a> ladies, this book is BEAUTIFUL, both literally and emotionally. The essays on motherhood read just like the ones on the site, (and a few are repeats), and they are full of life and humor and emotion. I've already re-read a few of my favorites. This has been sitting on my bedside table for the past couple of weeks and won't be leaving that spot anytime soon. I'm planning to give this as a gift at baby showers from now on.<br />
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<b>Watched</b><br />
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<i><u><a href="https://www.netflix.com/title/80007945" target="_blank">Chef's Table</a> (season three)</u></i><br />
We're die-hards. Go watch ALL the seasons. (There are actually four, since France has a season all to itself but apparently doesn't count in numerical order.) Each episode is shot so beautiful and they are all so different from one another. If you love food and/or are interested in hearing people's stories, this series is for you.<br />
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<i><u><a href="http://www.cnn.com/shows/the-sixties" target="_blank">The Sixties</a></u></i><br />
We really enjoyed this mini-series by CNN. The interviews added such depth and each episode captured an aspect of the '60's in an interesting way. It was a great overview of the time period, though I will add that some documentaries we have watched have done a better job of covering subjects in an in-depth way, such as <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001BEK8CY/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B001BEK8CY&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=39d2175f870ae9ad9d7a3d36bfe687ee%22%3EWhen%20We%20Left%20Earth:%20The%20NASA%20Missions%20(4-Disc%20Set)%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B001BEK8CY%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">When We Left Earth</a> (on the space program). It's also like deja-vu in a way, to watch things unfold that seem still so prevalent now. (See: racial tensions, lying politicians, gender inequality, etc., etc., etc...) I don't know if 2016 is exactly going to go down in the books like 1968 did, but...what's that saying about history repeating itself?<br />
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<b>Listened</b><br />
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<i><u><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/beautiful-writers-podcast/id1047012231?mt=2" target="_blank">Beautiful Writers Podcast</a></u></i><br />
I'm intermittent on this one, but recently Linda Sivertson not only interviewed Anne Lamott, one of my all-time most favorites, but her co-host was Glennon Doyle Melton, one of my <i>other </i>all-time most favorites. Completely inspiring.<br />
<b><br /></b><i><u><a href="https://www.coffeeandcrumbs.net/podcast/" target="_blank">Coffee + Crumbs Podcast</a></u></i><br />
Giving the Coffee + Crumbs girls some more love this time around! Their podcast is back for season two, and it's like having a conversation with my own girlfriends...minus the part where I can't actually join in (boo). Each episode they discuss a different aspect of motherhood, and also check in with each other to share what "little luxuries" they've been enjoying lately. It's one of my favorite parts of the show, and now I'm totally dreaming of getting my eyebrows microbladed...just as soon as I rustle up that kind of $$$ (!).<br />
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-44232749809390750082017-04-18T13:35:00.000-05:002017-04-18T13:35:37.837-05:00Post (Easter) Weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Easter is made for kids. Most holidays are, I suppose, but the combination of eggs and candy, bunnies and pastels, poofy dresses and bow ties are particularly made for the single-digit set. Add in the springiest of spring weather to celebrate our re-emergence from the chill of winter, and these three lapped up the fun of a full Easter weekend.</div>
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Except for maybe the taking pictures part.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoDo0UVe2u1ti6EzzzdtknYmYe54PwZRpbbWvv1xRKyXj0_fhfl5sSVmyEhV3xeiguxqbSwR8SG9pTgENd1eeSSab6g6sRPtrLG574xCnDSbomPNqprhbSnknlJhnLSE-8Po7VFbbUadQ/s1600/2017+04+14+All+Easter+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoDo0UVe2u1ti6EzzzdtknYmYe54PwZRpbbWvv1xRKyXj0_fhfl5sSVmyEhV3xeiguxqbSwR8SG9pTgENd1eeSSab6g6sRPtrLG574xCnDSbomPNqprhbSnknlJhnLSE-8Po7VFbbUadQ/s400/2017+04+14+All+Easter+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Attempt 1: not bad.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8UVEGYhQN1veBpPSChiz87-Vyt5nAyJKiAotFTbJiwcvhMqdCBcei1d_qTF-20EVTB427hanP5_ZJ_YL1RuamWzOUIo1txAs_B5TIeVh1tNTSndURijsEWZpZuKlYwu4vysKyITPcQ5o/s1600/2017+04+14+All+Easter+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8UVEGYhQN1veBpPSChiz87-Vyt5nAyJKiAotFTbJiwcvhMqdCBcei1d_qTF-20EVTB427hanP5_ZJ_YL1RuamWzOUIo1txAs_B5TIeVh1tNTSndURijsEWZpZuKlYwu4vysKyITPcQ5o/s400/2017+04+14+All+Easter+03.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Attempt 2: cue weird faces.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUlMYH9SyWl7YsE1NiX06vSrn0xzWBh36j7q56gu-6uPnY6OTqO6SBKWEx-AdlGJgbTmAVV6fD-39VnsBFVly2XKN6enQY9rUw6N8jr0tZkdDHGvvEWdu7E34sXtDulP91y8t2nAjHzPo/s1600/2017+04+14+All+Easter+04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUlMYH9SyWl7YsE1NiX06vSrn0xzWBh36j7q56gu-6uPnY6OTqO6SBKWEx-AdlGJgbTmAVV6fD-39VnsBFVly2XKN6enQY9rUw6N8jr0tZkdDHGvvEWdu7E34sXtDulP91y8t2nAjHzPo/s400/2017+04+14+All+Easter+04.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Attempt 3: not everyone is exactly vertical.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEc-8mDvMaW7vAO0iTEsTFkg3R_OdI5p9Me_OmHor_jmY1FBY-agJiGht0Sjx_Tfg8IqKNNSHgO7kD2nBR0h7SRFF_kMIc5jLCbrsQxr0JcqvI0sQJSu6Ryin5iqcmjohEaG1EIoabWi4/s1600/2017+04+14+All+Easter+06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEc-8mDvMaW7vAO0iTEsTFkg3R_OdI5p9Me_OmHor_jmY1FBY-agJiGht0Sjx_Tfg8IqKNNSHgO7kD2nBR0h7SRFF_kMIc5jLCbrsQxr0JcqvI0sQJSu6Ryin5iqcmjohEaG1EIoabWi4/s400/2017+04+14+All+Easter+06.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Attempt 4: weird faces, part 2.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdeoDfr9vxolGJasKLucAvJNILoH-G1G-pmT_SMvk1zzSX6rTgPYrB1MnPctQUtxJnM9JQ1cCnvSQ1SJwzdS-EQV_-N5fUXKevJArSwcDx2eLzW0vypANZ8gij8TOS4KdXNcdbXsf_paY/s1600/2017+04+14+All+Easter+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdeoDfr9vxolGJasKLucAvJNILoH-G1G-pmT_SMvk1zzSX6rTgPYrB1MnPctQUtxJnM9JQ1cCnvSQ1SJwzdS-EQV_-N5fUXKevJArSwcDx2eLzW0vypANZ8gij8TOS4KdXNcdbXsf_paY/s400/2017+04+14+All+Easter+07.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Attempt 5: so close)<br />
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(Attempts 6-348 not shown.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUagFEd1GrEWUXh1CkHF21i2k_4L6hoSWVaZoMzgCE2sX-PmRRVcDjHsuP47j1LLw-UDmbfbJDwLhrk007A3UgVcqgCuSkAwXaEjJwWJuaBNqWdx2amXIE4QrluB9cm54WtxpzTl5flI/s400/2017+04+14+All+Easter+08.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="305" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Attempt 349: Nolan: A+. Caden and Brooklyn: need improvement.)</td></tr>
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Our church offered services on Friday night, so we took full advantage of attending at a less busy time to help free up our weekend (so many praise hands). And it's so nice to not deal with the rush of Easter baskets/quick breakfast/fancy clothes/church on Sunday morning. Which also meant that we could attend a birthday party on Saturday.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9t86WO8an3XxHGiD8gmy7cT0gkp8lRzeKcFIqsQvcZVkTPBOg7StkHZBAWdeRQeAClS2iWSSqnWRIb3ODYQ3JAg1bfA-bbaixomsZtqzfnVYUSb_o4JpvTjqAipWDEc75J9go-W-3lL4/s1600/2017+04+15+Nolan+Party+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9t86WO8an3XxHGiD8gmy7cT0gkp8lRzeKcFIqsQvcZVkTPBOg7StkHZBAWdeRQeAClS2iWSSqnWRIb3ODYQ3JAg1bfA-bbaixomsZtqzfnVYUSb_o4JpvTjqAipWDEc75J9go-W-3lL4/s400/2017+04+15+Nolan+Party+02.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Where Nolan flirted with all the lady babies.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_bz2yun-eB02APCgPUh9QsaBKbtVBmgJMOTDcU44pcRi60Te5HA59XyWSTBeX-N1uwsPA1MB6ZcPIjOLUH7teWk_CTxS5s_0YxMQza_MUc7bZ0TQktKRMT5yaAhW-udHQknhj9hBOXQ/s1600/2017+04+15+Nolan+Party+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_bz2yun-eB02APCgPUh9QsaBKbtVBmgJMOTDcU44pcRi60Te5HA59XyWSTBeX-N1uwsPA1MB6ZcPIjOLUH7teWk_CTxS5s_0YxMQza_MUc7bZ0TQktKRMT5yaAhW-udHQknhj9hBOXQ/s400/2017+04+15+Nolan+Party+03.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">("So, does your mom bring you here often?")</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eAigOAsz6iHrDc3hNo8HnknQhhKix2ZtiTEgoTOahhyNKQ0cHln0mI31v-zEt6c7_-5f2NNihqi0xWZ4CmZ4LNanQpiTIaNEUor3-hFpCPzOc3FoX9BlmelxrPqdyzU4XweiUK65jSk/s1600/2017+04+15+Nolan+Party+05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eAigOAsz6iHrDc3hNo8HnknQhhKix2ZtiTEgoTOahhyNKQ0cHln0mI31v-zEt6c7_-5f2NNihqi0xWZ4CmZ4LNanQpiTIaNEUor3-hFpCPzOc3FoX9BlmelxrPqdyzU4XweiUK65jSk/s400/2017+04+15+Nolan+Party+05.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(No seriously, so many lady babies. All the lady babies. Nolan, you get your pick.)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JbK5BkPOBolH75Xympgwf06i2Yp9xEvRxeljutyyKXpQgkR9WY7tfhAHOfVwsE1awIeH_oHqEdLDA1OZS23nFu0E52sK7BKduEQmlW0uQY-9ajHQwCTbNM9hq6Ir0A64m8gYGP3YGts/s1600/2017+04+15+Both+Party+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JbK5BkPOBolH75Xympgwf06i2Yp9xEvRxeljutyyKXpQgkR9WY7tfhAHOfVwsE1awIeH_oHqEdLDA1OZS23nFu0E52sK7BKduEQmlW0uQY-9ajHQwCTbNM9hq6Ir0A64m8gYGP3YGts/s400/2017+04+15+Both+Party+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7Fnk4JtojEd0aHaa8mAz6eoeFbB5BkXfND1b9MzDyXxDTR5mZRmyzog4ngSUxpOqbMrnD_fNh1okHt6LLQRdIMk3R03ZO2rTsHJSoxDvxTuGtlyPLUMCaLRe3UU6y7qnf6tnNMX2ihM/s1600/2017+04+15+Both+Party+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7Fnk4JtojEd0aHaa8mAz6eoeFbB5BkXfND1b9MzDyXxDTR5mZRmyzog4ngSUxpOqbMrnD_fNh1okHt6LLQRdIMk3R03ZO2rTsHJSoxDvxTuGtlyPLUMCaLRe3UU6y7qnf6tnNMX2ihM/s400/2017+04+15+Both+Party+02.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(I mean, we might as well cram all the juice boxes and cake into a weekend already filled with candy, right? Let's just get it all out of the way until the next major holiday/birthday party/desperate attempt at bribery.)</td></tr>
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Looking out the window now at the rain, cold, and wind that have taken over, it's a little hard to believe that Easter was only two days ago. I've since packed away much (though by no means all) of the Easter paraphernalia. I swear, Easter is second only to Christmas in the amount of stuff we store. I think it's all those darn eggs.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObxssEHTNiQyqovUiL9awzINAF1zjHyoXYZrk7bEbr5mizqDyNdtEM9e_Qsb8vsaX7FhA5fM8cfuuh7OjbqwterCu_N1b1CX95Ch6Eytgoksz3vU4juX-UcATmpSFXvDySrxCFpP2KCc/s1600/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObxssEHTNiQyqovUiL9awzINAF1zjHyoXYZrk7bEbr5mizqDyNdtEM9e_Qsb8vsaX7FhA5fM8cfuuh7OjbqwterCu_N1b1CX95Ch6Eytgoksz3vU4juX-UcATmpSFXvDySrxCFpP2KCc/s400/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+01.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">("You guys, I <i>swear </i>there were only empty eggs in here last night!")</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnlV7WSmOJ5U1DIAzCSyZFY3GhGN5TVDC9X2CDURoyr69hE2zIqZ-GW6vLyBzltU7v6mCyu_3OpKuMygHdtQudB_hud946nR20fETHboRjhA9CH3TqD0Yv-5L6n1WHbiV1vpW1YLnjzo/s1600/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnlV7WSmOJ5U1DIAzCSyZFY3GhGN5TVDC9X2CDURoyr69hE2zIqZ-GW6vLyBzltU7v6mCyu_3OpKuMygHdtQudB_hud946nR20fETHboRjhA9CH3TqD0Yv-5L6n1WHbiV1vpW1YLnjzo/s400/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+02.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmfwhkgQ0anHACpQc-DaOjB4yZZqX0J1sSsQACQne25Cqa1n2MthBRR19shBcV-pgap4Gh6XE5oweU_sD6TK30mVu22OJeHukf6ym0tQL82IwiocO0XrMSImdKBxq_GKLQynxbgb1DHU/s1600/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmfwhkgQ0anHACpQc-DaOjB4yZZqX0J1sSsQACQne25Cqa1n2MthBRR19shBcV-pgap4Gh6XE5oweU_sD6TK30mVu22OJeHukf6ym0tQL82IwiocO0XrMSImdKBxq_GKLQynxbgb1DHU/s400/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+04.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Discovering that the big kids got all of the good candy.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7b0V1oQIEmNAlagKPKnvr6etO686C2sLd7SIs06pa21jutQwBiASauwCrQdnLb_dMieC1nIu8FkStHPIfUSCZvFxAn1x6vHO0EyeP0xNuX_kb-67WGgXzxvrPIr4wKQcasMW5JuOrPk/s1600/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7b0V1oQIEmNAlagKPKnvr6etO686C2sLd7SIs06pa21jutQwBiASauwCrQdnLb_dMieC1nIu8FkStHPIfUSCZvFxAn1x6vHO0EyeP0xNuX_kb-67WGgXzxvrPIr4wKQcasMW5JuOrPk/s400/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+03.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">("Whut? I'm totally not trying to eat a gummy bear right now.")</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFo0fpKfr2Jn3X1RiEFV1W9-C1vpuWgbFonLUwjLOFsmAECdJS68Bia76NxiQStuOya8O-R6YqoqCmzmsVjC3wLGDRrqkwFPEIwfyS6nuvnPk-4hbIi8ZV3hrT5VxJMUL37nFZ7wJNOE/s1600/2017+04+16+All+Easter+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFo0fpKfr2Jn3X1RiEFV1W9-C1vpuWgbFonLUwjLOFsmAECdJS68Bia76NxiQStuOya8O-R6YqoqCmzmsVjC3wLGDRrqkwFPEIwfyS6nuvnPk-4hbIi8ZV3hrT5VxJMUL37nFZ7wJNOE/s400/2017+04+16+All+Easter+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynF_1KmnGtL76De7uGsfjd6OHfaenkUVPVC-F2l491HOMFTk1PRxL33rTLZ3RmXaI8BIXLVUgjFz5Ii9TeAb8IwyVlmrPeae2WqEqnT41RuDcF5JSe1XiEx0h2wVEFe_IyfSHGkREC3M/s1600/2017+04+16+All+Easter+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynF_1KmnGtL76De7uGsfjd6OHfaenkUVPVC-F2l491HOMFTk1PRxL33rTLZ3RmXaI8BIXLVUgjFz5Ii9TeAb8IwyVlmrPeae2WqEqnT41RuDcF5JSe1XiEx0h2wVEFe_IyfSHGkREC3M/s400/2017+04+16+All+Easter+02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(They'll all work together to clean up a spill of bunny crackers.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4n_GkoKZYS9uNLu8LoCLK-CQQlkXbZpnitXlSyYefMlrB1GG_1RjEF7TUeZj1cUXtXGSO2R19gisXzJdjBrPFjNyAeD8UIeIlG-y8LvCr4b-rDAb2sIzvjJUjGKNy23ayzKX2Xtee1H4/s1600/2017+04+16+All+Easter+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4n_GkoKZYS9uNLu8LoCLK-CQQlkXbZpnitXlSyYefMlrB1GG_1RjEF7TUeZj1cUXtXGSO2R19gisXzJdjBrPFjNyAeD8UIeIlG-y8LvCr4b-rDAb2sIzvjJUjGKNy23ayzKX2Xtee1H4/s400/2017+04+16+All+Easter+03.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(And a little bit later, when they somehow got their little hands on an Easter basket: "We havin a picnic!")</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdgJ0Eo10eCFJPdZX2xcDkzSiQ_1cWc4rd0ZpKcprnUMOqkM5UIT3AxuRbMj8TWYRliInRSLocHtJSgc5TeGzsNXeMdqP6KSiuI_Q6VpvjJrzFJOBYg3W9TZS_8kq610uq9fxzKqh0-Q/s1600/2017+04+16+Both+Easter+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdgJ0Eo10eCFJPdZX2xcDkzSiQ_1cWc4rd0ZpKcprnUMOqkM5UIT3AxuRbMj8TWYRliInRSLocHtJSgc5TeGzsNXeMdqP6KSiuI_Q6VpvjJrzFJOBYg3W9TZS_8kq610uq9fxzKqh0-Q/s400/2017+04+16+Both+Easter+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Dying Easter eggs. Except they were way more interested in the stickers that came in the package.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphimdx_7bnouFoN7B1s55oUJGyc9jWt78Clx3PlV4-w7GR9KoiNfSaETyou7wjcfXeUlHAJqUtiQQpIR463GXePjeS7z8JaQR3ghUxbjrtBT7JwwgSGgnY6xxc3-r9-SBmmxHKJkM8nQ/s1600/2017+04+16+Both+Easter+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphimdx_7bnouFoN7B1s55oUJGyc9jWt78Clx3PlV4-w7GR9KoiNfSaETyou7wjcfXeUlHAJqUtiQQpIR463GXePjeS7z8JaQR3ghUxbjrtBT7JwwgSGgnY6xxc3-r9-SBmmxHKJkM8nQ/s400/2017+04+16+Both+Easter+02.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(So<b> I</b> dyed some Easter eggs.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOSSrWoZqo0b4_yWY_RhQAg_Zkk2PHqeNei6e_4EpaE5Qw36e9g28IXtegKHEbn46rvizzkjAYmCzBaqwp5Z_2CHWDN-1YI5JQC9O2Y1tZUSM0b9aDIexZvRm9_OwVhyHx8ZFXylCb4iY/s1600/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOSSrWoZqo0b4_yWY_RhQAg_Zkk2PHqeNei6e_4EpaE5Qw36e9g28IXtegKHEbn46rvizzkjAYmCzBaqwp5Z_2CHWDN-1YI5JQC9O2Y1tZUSM0b9aDIexZvRm9_OwVhyHx8ZFXylCb4iY/s400/2017+04+16+Nolan+Easter+05.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Rocking the bow tie in the Cozy Coupe.)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzIRIgmedqVazeomJ0jX1M1_-3MagW-ytsJX-hrXqZaTezIv96rLKATlhDQZN30wf9tI4Qbl9PVSo2Dv33y-fuf0gdX4QUaApRZ2RVBOltSaLOg8XDsnxnkh8VqyBxWHhbJU9cbSPyA8/s1600/2017+04+16+Brooklyn+Easter+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzIRIgmedqVazeomJ0jX1M1_-3MagW-ytsJX-hrXqZaTezIv96rLKATlhDQZN30wf9tI4Qbl9PVSo2Dv33y-fuf0gdX4QUaApRZ2RVBOltSaLOg8XDsnxnkh8VqyBxWHhbJU9cbSPyA8/s400/2017+04+16+Brooklyn+Easter+02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggsmj9K6lPGYL-HYA8LBZ-a1_SBrTYqzi72yQYB9S2LYv3beGIAssApIpyjn7YW2WHKiZ7c2xYEKWHkhG5umnmeilP5qEECv9VIkbVqmDy1s8h47-w5uwhjw5QIVUk41_qGQaLeZo0bfk/s1600/2017+04+16+Caden+Easter+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggsmj9K6lPGYL-HYA8LBZ-a1_SBrTYqzi72yQYB9S2LYv3beGIAssApIpyjn7YW2WHKiZ7c2xYEKWHkhG5umnmeilP5qEECv9VIkbVqmDy1s8h47-w5uwhjw5QIVUk41_qGQaLeZo0bfk/s400/2017+04+16+Caden+Easter+03.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Most of my Easter egg hunt photo attempts of Caden turned out like this.)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPChld2hTLAUshIEuK5wt5SGCf1B-CgcIHHkrl5lP-tWJQLf-pj3UfK5pboYWEdPstrVde4PZhMQxaXsf4W3lJo91k8582mDAS_KMnAn1V4fPxpHi-1iYqCcuiq4YdeUAfn58ZyHsZ-I/s1600/2017+04+16+Caden+Easter+04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPChld2hTLAUshIEuK5wt5SGCf1B-CgcIHHkrl5lP-tWJQLf-pj3UfK5pboYWEdPstrVde4PZhMQxaXsf4W3lJo91k8582mDAS_KMnAn1V4fPxpHi-1iYqCcuiq4YdeUAfn58ZyHsZ-I/s400/2017+04+16+Caden+Easter+04.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifUJ9u22VsazmXWhghA9uSLAKSZRh81upxwTWZZ5ehVfjWEVoc8Np81znDm0OsOc0fN_8aTyWqoFyHnfMEcOZE-yEnhY4xOZn_sJr4YH60EwMA5Yub2JRnQFrzs8BRfmi4IiZz4zAguec/s1600/2017+04+16+Caden+Easter+05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifUJ9u22VsazmXWhghA9uSLAKSZRh81upxwTWZZ5ehVfjWEVoc8Np81znDm0OsOc0fN_8aTyWqoFyHnfMEcOZE-yEnhY4xOZn_sJr4YH60EwMA5Yub2JRnQFrzs8BRfmi4IiZz4zAguec/s400/2017+04+16+Caden+Easter+05.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;">(Until he paused because he found an egg filled with some cash money.)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhog9YSagiSMEbZu9kS0qA7XWEY9yVXnc-3-6CZDa5U-pkWaPMDpUvKcu_DqjFKO-HvZvbxh4_b1UnGxh8IsGwaXWKeEBV0OjX9RgzFhCumuJT9IEXP3jFbAzItKr7iqUfJInhafC8RNgo/s1600/2017+04+16+Nolan+Tyson+Easter+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhog9YSagiSMEbZu9kS0qA7XWEY9yVXnc-3-6CZDa5U-pkWaPMDpUvKcu_DqjFKO-HvZvbxh4_b1UnGxh8IsGwaXWKeEBV0OjX9RgzFhCumuJT9IEXP3jFbAzItKr7iqUfJInhafC8RNgo/s400/2017+04+16+Nolan+Tyson+Easter+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL9Mgl85vaE0tiqnZ5b4x4VbBZI_2bcPxE-RTNFUstl6PhYs2p9voRX2Mkz9vpI6vNyvs_g78y8_0RewuRRDGnR9vPxO7cvRK-gybZd16FirrOwz-a7VqQ0ZWR28kpJ8jqx2BRt95ir2c/s1600/2017+04+16+Nolan+Tyson+Easter+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL9Mgl85vaE0tiqnZ5b4x4VbBZI_2bcPxE-RTNFUstl6PhYs2p9voRX2Mkz9vpI6vNyvs_g78y8_0RewuRRDGnR9vPxO7cvRK-gybZd16FirrOwz-a7VqQ0ZWR28kpJ8jqx2BRt95ir2c/s400/2017+04+16+Nolan+Tyson+Easter+02.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Not quite sure what's going on, but picking things up and putting them in bags is pretty fun.)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9YYAc97NwB0v-AhS2W1xdKc44GxltRnSjvIlRR0n3_keulj2XicgRnzRiFTd2XiAsf5pdvoMasbqUmkeeUpsxJPaA3WPPr600hdObWlLMY6LahyphenhyphenyPl2y5bFnIpUesB2sgZ_KR78VVw8/s1600/2017+04+16+Both+Easter+03.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9YYAc97NwB0v-AhS2W1xdKc44GxltRnSjvIlRR0n3_keulj2XicgRnzRiFTd2XiAsf5pdvoMasbqUmkeeUpsxJPaA3WPPr600hdObWlLMY6LahyphenhyphenyPl2y5bFnIpUesB2sgZ_KR78VVw8/s400/2017+04+16+Both+Easter+03.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjSvlFRH0l1r7qo-p1kNHJeYiH5lH5nSVPGQd_xd5Bae_-h5dR-k2iugdOrT8B1sX8nARCU7TqPzyg_fqYPhZ7vbiq5VFyuK5sTQUeB6m2Eb9vcHyrDajtER9W1vBgTV6C-EI4Bie13U/s1600/2017+04+16+Caden+Easter+06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjSvlFRH0l1r7qo-p1kNHJeYiH5lH5nSVPGQd_xd5Bae_-h5dR-k2iugdOrT8B1sX8nARCU7TqPzyg_fqYPhZ7vbiq5VFyuK5sTQUeB6m2Eb9vcHyrDajtER9W1vBgTV6C-EI4Bie13U/s400/2017+04+16+Caden+Easter+06.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(The aftermath.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjolNjI3osW84DvKPhP6C-NPdveHPy4rOMOGc6lcY1lksg6lKP-k0II1ktoA4EnyOyFlL0ZUY4_yKygtSQ-zyB6DS02F72c_mgfchpz_hBtYHZmBWdCDVCO5Mt3Orxf85g4zXP-WqrxTU/s1600/2017+04+16+Brooklyn+Easter+06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjolNjI3osW84DvKPhP6C-NPdveHPy4rOMOGc6lcY1lksg6lKP-k0II1ktoA4EnyOyFlL0ZUY4_yKygtSQ-zyB6DS02F72c_mgfchpz_hBtYHZmBWdCDVCO5Mt3Orxf85g4zXP-WqrxTU/s400/2017+04+16+Brooklyn+Easter+06.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: left;">(Don't everyone's Easter celebrations involve watching some hockey?)</td></tr>
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After a month of <a href="http://smallshannonigans.blogspot.com/2017/02/a-sweet-first-and-third-birthday-party.html" target="_blank">birthdays</a>, quickly followed by a week of the stomach flu, then followed by two weeks of Tyson out-of-town, which led up right into a few days of travel for us, and now Easter under out belts, it feels like the first time things are really getting back to normal in quite awhile. Whatever that means anymore. We're ready to settle into a new normal. One that involves a lot more sunshine, flowers, and all things spring.<br />
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(Oh, and also, this:)<br />
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-9203795553640235322017-04-07T13:04:00.000-05:002017-04-07T13:04:38.703-05:00Things Mom KnowsThere are so many things I just <i>know </i>about my kids. Little habits and idiosyncrasies that are embedded into the way I parent, because day in and day out <i>this is what I do. </i>I know things that, if done in just the right way, bring success to our day, and if not, LOOK OUT. I know where things are, what bodily functions have been one by who, and which child will eat what (well, usually). My brain is full. I might not remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday morning (I mean, besides coffee. Always coffee.) but here are some things I <i>do </i>know:<br />
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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/AVvXsEibWr6K9Yz9ufQKdD8yctTgrr3dZgYh-z-u8tkibjn8QDU-2WOcPcNhKBynH0YWUy84tht62h2_tsr8ElwULakvTkS7X6rBhJI3EscvcEYhjWl_lsmCmZlRk5x_n2GB90t4Q75pTaI2gAk/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWr6K9Yz9ufQKdD8yctTgrr3dZgYh-z-u8tkibjn8QDU-2WOcPcNhKBynH0YWUy84tht62h2_tsr8ElwULakvTkS7X6rBhJI3EscvcEYhjWl_lsmCmZlRk5x_n2GB90t4Q75pTaI2gAk/s400/6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like how to get a photo where everyone is in focus, even if they're not all looking at the camera. <i>Just hire a professional.</i></td></tr>
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<ul>
<li>Don't give grapes to the baby until the end of the meal, otherwise it's all he will eat and you will spend the rest of your life cutting grapes into teeny-tiny pieces.</li>
<li>Where the secret stash of snacks in the diaper bags is.</li>
<li>The proper way to serve <i>Frozen </i>cheese cubes. (Rip open one side of the wrapper. Rotate the cheese 90-degrees, placing it back inside the wrapper so it sticks out, but the wrapper remains so they can see their favorite character <i>and </i>use it as a holder for the cheese. Point deduction if you dare to rip any part of Elsa's face or Olaf's carrot nose.)</li>
<li>The words to every Daniel Tiger jingle.</li>
<li>Which socks are too difficult for the baby to pull off his own feet.</li>
<li>Which aisles to avoid at the store with the kids.</li>
<li>The correct child to give the green, pink, blue, or yellow plate.</li>
<li>Whose turn it it so pick out a bedtime story, dump the chocolate chips in the mixing bowl, or choose what type of fruit snacks they'll be eating for the week.</li>
<li>That if you wait to get the free piece of fruit/cookie until RIGHT before you go through the check-out, it will (usually) buy you enough time to do so in peace.</li>
<li>Which cry needs to be tended to immediately, and which not so much.</li>
<li>Who's pooped today.</li>
<li>That the baby wears mostly 12-month clothes, but a lot of the 18-month stuff is starting to fit, and there's a couple pairs of 9-month pants that actually fit pretty great still. The girl toddler is firmly in 3T, except a lot of 2T shirts still fit okay and 3T jeans are usually too big but the 2T ones fit well in the waist so they work if they are long enough, and we're saving some of the 2T leggings that are too short in the drawer to use as capris, come actual warm spring weather. Meanwhile the boy toddler can wear either 2T or 3T shirts, but bottoms remain a mystery since some of the 3T ones fit, though it depends on the brand and whether or not they have an actual functioning drawstring around waist, otherwise 2T fits best so long as the length is okay, but then we get into shorts and I think there are still some 18 month ones from last summer that will work just fine. The moral of the story is that you can never get any of the clothing bins put away in storage for good. Ever. </li>
<li>How much milk is left in the fridge.</li>
<li>Who wants peanut butter on their toast, who prefers "just butter", and who doesn't even want their bread to be toasted.</li>
<li>The exact location of BOTH pink slippers, where the blue sippy cup with the green handle is, and where the purple block for the shape sorter was last seen.</li>
<li>That when they request "Coming 'Round the Mountain" in the car, it is track number 19. However, when they request "Coming 'Round the Mountain" they not only want to listen to track 19, but <i>also </i>the instrumental music on track 18, which they view as some sort of intro. Skip past track 18 at your own risk.</li>
<li>How long everyone napped today, to the minute.</li>
<li>The locations of the five nearest coffee shops with a drive-thru.</li>
<li>How many pairs of toddler underwear are left before you need to do laundry again. And even when it seems all hope is lost and the bottom of the underwear drawer stares back at you, there is always a spare in the diaper bag. Just remember to replenish it later.</li>
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My parents will be taking over for the next few days while Tyson and I escape on a little getaway to meet our new niece (bonus points for also being in a warmer climate!). Mom and Dad: GOOD FREAKING LUCK.</div>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-91322745336276948572017-04-04T13:20:00.000-05:002017-04-04T13:20:02.345-05:00One/Three Year Photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Another birthday (or three...), another round of family pictures.</div>
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Here's a round-up of some of my favorites...along what with we're thinking in each picture...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNHo5NzhGNYSnmSNmNyAL5PMzieRaSnBSCQY0oRVYh9d7mCwt4muasCCD5gNqIsGoCyy5pGk8DukCrwdCAxDqXCYbvGmPst3DtUysSkTGl5XVOw0JQxSsXeV_XTT3arCI7NCEr8IyI_w/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNHo5NzhGNYSnmSNmNyAL5PMzieRaSnBSCQY0oRVYh9d7mCwt4muasCCD5gNqIsGoCyy5pGk8DukCrwdCAxDqXCYbvGmPst3DtUysSkTGl5XVOw0JQxSsXeV_XTT3arCI7NCEr8IyI_w/s400/3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Caden: "My arms are freezing. Seriously, it's barely March. Why are we even out here without coats on?"<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0sGfwrj7QIvTLiXdzF2Ktj7mSyXufzt6MkYgy8sZO6i5sTXih0WaTSxfvk67NxVDpl7jYsYHuU4iJUCAXeBRR1ROlRLG1y5Kmu0oe-4CYRfUS0BWYU_3h0tw5AQecPZRtiUf5LfnkaA/s400/7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Brooklyn: "Come on, guys. why am I the only one following directions here?"<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe2jombTugemQrvoWqD9s5XBkvw_J30GF-If6bPSIXNvZ3pGfcGFYIpCKZJ0xVLVtNRZeIG4s-sJ_Gc2JpMBVuRJaaQyfiF7hSr_C5qjXQlkvjmw8gJs3tU2Af16XGUD0CFYPRzYDW5lM/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe2jombTugemQrvoWqD9s5XBkvw_J30GF-If6bPSIXNvZ3pGfcGFYIpCKZJ0xVLVtNRZeIG4s-sJ_Gc2JpMBVuRJaaQyfiF7hSr_C5qjXQlkvjmw8gJs3tU2Af16XGUD0CFYPRzYDW5lM/s400/10.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Caden: "LOVE MEEEE!" Nolan: "Leave me alone."<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcrRVZz-TKPV_wEoLvzjKsTPwN8fYHE04WbtdHcCKoWRVqmE6qEEgeI-KlhSOuF47ks0XrV0A4pFI4C6b_Nn5DWHS0J1dAVCvgt6olXSjcFA0Fp8uUf3_rVV9_wwnQll87q2Qig29Jfc/s1600/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcrRVZz-TKPV_wEoLvzjKsTPwN8fYHE04WbtdHcCKoWRVqmE6qEEgeI-KlhSOuF47ks0XrV0A4pFI4C6b_Nn5DWHS0J1dAVCvgt6olXSjcFA0Fp8uUf3_rVV9_wwnQll87q2Qig29Jfc/s400/15.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Me: "This is my life. No, seriously, you don't even know how often it looks like this while I'm just trying to get lunch on the table."</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJlMSqJcSvZK5sEL__mQU5rb6xfYPXidSme6GdZzFTwHvBUSlRvzRhoLbLzMqzZXWMXOWzc7bJkK4ABlMCr7PfW__DzZxZe0ZjF3vrJowPb_fbW9Bl4Ly27d00TRUvWtX7jVpDTFtuLs/s1600/19.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJlMSqJcSvZK5sEL__mQU5rb6xfYPXidSme6GdZzFTwHvBUSlRvzRhoLbLzMqzZXWMXOWzc7bJkK4ABlMCr7PfW__DzZxZe0ZjF3vrJowPb_fbW9Bl4Ly27d00TRUvWtX7jVpDTFtuLs/s400/19.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5MnUQmNEV52beoAPI5mMFMuliHB1Hobja0UnffW5-0-DceCQHFkhHHEBKDKgq-n14wklsswzo0MKlcD9sszNYgNJstb_OyOPu1dpLsNOklp9Qv3Aa9A84qeRVbOTGYXrkQDif2zAldYw/s1600/22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5MnUQmNEV52beoAPI5mMFMuliHB1Hobja0UnffW5-0-DceCQHFkhHHEBKDKgq-n14wklsswzo0MKlcD9sszNYgNJstb_OyOPu1dpLsNOklp9Qv3Aa9A84qeRVbOTGYXrkQDif2zAldYw/s400/22.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Tyson and me: "IMAGINE HAVING ONE KID."<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-7ZtWCYH3Y2f2prbJd3_hyO997xRhhczLay2S1SGMLxYfGhB0hVWRxX6XCVAdyC-8schwC4QyIlTLn4PDLROAMAqY_8zHlDeEDwDCJ6-tiLvRnXhXmJWhZSC4wxxB-C84vFzT-zFzPA/s1600/23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-7ZtWCYH3Y2f2prbJd3_hyO997xRhhczLay2S1SGMLxYfGhB0hVWRxX6XCVAdyC-8schwC4QyIlTLn4PDLROAMAqY_8zHlDeEDwDCJ6-tiLvRnXhXmJWhZSC4wxxB-C84vFzT-zFzPA/s400/23.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"I'm a stud and I know it."<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkv-6xN8XYuS-9tAh5tE9XLvlGgGSimgbVofbdHwK6xDNxykpFKKwG_zzgRW_YukqqDBg67uTuNOYO48UXiiO-9Np-g4RBDOIGV7bX6FP3U6DLdTJe1Y1wzwNw05ItLFNR6r5gwKR7QiE/s1600/25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkv-6xN8XYuS-9tAh5tE9XLvlGgGSimgbVofbdHwK6xDNxykpFKKwG_zzgRW_YukqqDBg67uTuNOYO48UXiiO-9Np-g4RBDOIGV7bX6FP3U6DLdTJe1Y1wzwNw05ItLFNR6r5gwKR7QiE/s400/25.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;">"No need to smile when you look this cool."<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9BSidU8jyjtSo-ChQjQVoxQGeNstY1NevX-0IWPLbdVfsooMO498vXvIeRwTpjRYVJV3DeaNiQXgI8aBmEYo65hcevB4gLt2gL79jMjFl5gQNgZMy9pjDYHYh4Mn9bMLweIqEj7sSEA/s1600/27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9BSidU8jyjtSo-ChQjQVoxQGeNstY1NevX-0IWPLbdVfsooMO498vXvIeRwTpjRYVJV3DeaNiQXgI8aBmEYo65hcevB4gLt2gL79jMjFl5gQNgZMy9pjDYHYh4Mn9bMLweIqEj7sSEA/s400/27.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"I mean, just check out this bow tie."<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfYGNR7tzzKRKVO8oLzxqePCw_xTGG-2Lpzp71waNNWsiCyv_C4YD6TWtFMhwCft4y_nK2kFerPw7JjcLKDFCuDQ7nNE4wr4HVipWSRTWOjx122MaDYirA_Zj6a3Elsl_n4EYV7Upslmc/s1600/29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfYGNR7tzzKRKVO8oLzxqePCw_xTGG-2Lpzp71waNNWsiCyv_C4YD6TWtFMhwCft4y_nK2kFerPw7JjcLKDFCuDQ7nNE4wr4HVipWSRTWOjx122MaDYirA_Zj6a3Elsl_n4EYV7Upslmc/s400/29.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"Sometimes we like each other."<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh3vWy93uiGnYXwSyTL-gRGNtcWzN671vBNYQlW0wptPHHaxTo-5WyZx6_Xfd645ElTWRDvffiEsChuy5A4qV4Z6EcRekNbWM-uY-CJAeNjrVKTMbUcLBDvUrps7KIT0IZOdkPSyo_djo/s1600/31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh3vWy93uiGnYXwSyTL-gRGNtcWzN671vBNYQlW0wptPHHaxTo-5WyZx6_Xfd645ElTWRDvffiEsChuy5A4qV4Z6EcRekNbWM-uY-CJAeNjrVKTMbUcLBDvUrps7KIT0IZOdkPSyo_djo/s400/31.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Caden: "Mom is gonna love this smile."<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioEiPDNF-YcMGEmG_oGSmU3wEQqb3pctD5tEWV3P0kEwZ5ybgEaAiHEK8nPM0MEURfykfaQRwMozDMuOFFwvRjvOEDB3PuVm3Clq0syAD0CD0WVVviDXXvwY78urHjNVjzgt1qSVKtMgQ/s1600/33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioEiPDNF-YcMGEmG_oGSmU3wEQqb3pctD5tEWV3P0kEwZ5ybgEaAiHEK8nPM0MEURfykfaQRwMozDMuOFFwvRjvOEDB3PuVm3Clq0syAD0CD0WVVviDXXvwY78urHjNVjzgt1qSVKtMgQ/s400/33.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;">"Finally, my chance to shine without those boys around. Check out this posture."<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mUdcvoE4i6Ta9AMlS8vhBTOk5xBrCeJCCgW4trAkzu5LZzE9fMT5vTnOZKeghOFSKBbo2TAnGyoRJTET-fsGbAcDJZ7qu0BXAL1GR-XkbFZRJQ7hqeVBORxZN_YYV-tmd3-d0waAj_8/s1600/36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mUdcvoE4i6Ta9AMlS8vhBTOk5xBrCeJCCgW4trAkzu5LZzE9fMT5vTnOZKeghOFSKBbo2TAnGyoRJTET-fsGbAcDJZ7qu0BXAL1GR-XkbFZRJQ7hqeVBORxZN_YYV-tmd3-d0waAj_8/s400/36.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;">"I'm only smiling this big because I'm throwing rocks in between shots."<br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZoemYMsr313VuHlK-ELK9W-hPFdyLlDGiUCRXtVOctoGFPn5VTGKY8RozJbWCIVgURlg5FP5KDTQJ_f34k3_kGWdQK2WVq8nIRouNfvuXBuqXzJBVuPY1_YF4yOM25Ldp4Qhag7p5WI/s1600/40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZoemYMsr313VuHlK-ELK9W-hPFdyLlDGiUCRXtVOctoGFPn5VTGKY8RozJbWCIVgURlg5FP5KDTQJ_f34k3_kGWdQK2WVq8nIRouNfvuXBuqXzJBVuPY1_YF4yOM25Ldp4Qhag7p5WI/s400/40.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Brooklyn: "Why is it always up to me? Hold it together, guys..."<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqw7QjP-EKTfxlhm1HA4OpjQ6OGhWVLMLhISYKHYEi2uqelCstwviOFMVNYbg0svJSAy7ImchVhdpg9BayBvITDcmofKJhDK1SyZHrihQYZ6i5isKtCB6LVCNPAWNpB2B2eqNSIHCh1Iw/s1600/44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqw7QjP-EKTfxlhm1HA4OpjQ6OGhWVLMLhISYKHYEi2uqelCstwviOFMVNYbg0svJSAy7ImchVhdpg9BayBvITDcmofKJhDK1SyZHrihQYZ6i5isKtCB6LVCNPAWNpB2B2eqNSIHCh1Iw/s400/44.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"Yeah, I made you guys work so dang hard for this grin."<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBSKMVJYAjvGduYF23j0whOvbBSGcme0yDZVNWLIMFlfwnNl7rKB1tEsAqo40SR891OWA12Ui1dxhuzNjVhQ_kwhH1l1qYOMcqavzrA_8_LdlQgD_z18its7J3fDZ9-emENozTR1jm1lY/s1600/62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBSKMVJYAjvGduYF23j0whOvbBSGcme0yDZVNWLIMFlfwnNl7rKB1tEsAqo40SR891OWA12Ui1dxhuzNjVhQ_kwhH1l1qYOMcqavzrA_8_LdlQgD_z18its7J3fDZ9-emENozTR1jm1lY/s400/62.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfoekiOn_4mtguCwL1w7Os6dj-_NNdt6dpc6Os_N_raVPsTc9CFGhlmspHqYKMOw8VX_D9RviZbJCBEMhgDy3G5d-Ovsbp0N_bx5lWqUjAm5V-YTJr6tdhWkfAdsciNJY8MAYDoOmSuE/s1600/63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfoekiOn_4mtguCwL1w7Os6dj-_NNdt6dpc6Os_N_raVPsTc9CFGhlmspHqYKMOw8VX_D9RviZbJCBEMhgDy3G5d-Ovsbp0N_bx5lWqUjAm5V-YTJr6tdhWkfAdsciNJY8MAYDoOmSuE/s400/63.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3VwLTptzPJD42Q8opiN3L_RZxit04yisUOWzCUcrVdm6AMnCqy6VfmyijltV0iu8SY6r_9B2gNZQY6aAmCrwS-YECTv-e5EDKkf5b2k_qB8PgB95uw5wUu0Lq5BPMe8XCKsy-IgfQ6E/s1600/67.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3VwLTptzPJD42Q8opiN3L_RZxit04yisUOWzCUcrVdm6AMnCqy6VfmyijltV0iu8SY6r_9B2gNZQY6aAmCrwS-YECTv-e5EDKkf5b2k_qB8PgB95uw5wUu0Lq5BPMe8XCKsy-IgfQ6E/s400/67.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"OMG I HAVE A BOOK!!!"<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhSf3JfG0aQMTWzFd_mPOQo0EhaPdA9GRUll6VeI0OB4XHlR5qoanR1sU8lDH8uzg0sbr9yuxP59vYb1v5MQ0PJmH2tCXm-VhTluFXy5mMz3K7eC61P5CJTZuM5kb7IsoXGLaO_7H_QY/s1600/70.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhSf3JfG0aQMTWzFd_mPOQo0EhaPdA9GRUll6VeI0OB4XHlR5qoanR1sU8lDH8uzg0sbr9yuxP59vYb1v5MQ0PJmH2tCXm-VhTluFXy5mMz3K7eC61P5CJTZuM5kb7IsoXGLaO_7H_QY/s400/70.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"WE'RE RUNNING IN THE LIBRARY WITH BOOKS!!!!!!!11!!"<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqKQ7QuNEKUnA86_tx4642r-SMRGeJltLgFbB1M7UK9_eZZrSgjSrBEeteChqad7Z3PDyH97k_crBlCTiqv-36NHdWrKO-VAEKUSz94E-wCLFXbs0Gq9LXOaIEfQsWNaAtvAPRwxV2pu8/s1600/72.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqKQ7QuNEKUnA86_tx4642r-SMRGeJltLgFbB1M7UK9_eZZrSgjSrBEeteChqad7Z3PDyH97k_crBlCTiqv-36NHdWrKO-VAEKUSz94E-wCLFXbs0Gq9LXOaIEfQsWNaAtvAPRwxV2pu8/s400/72.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"Shhh...act professional."<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSRSe6qqXndUNCnGjdMeoSZJl19HA0MSsRzAv08aoJPtcl4nAYg5xKfupXWx7lACvAyULSOP81YDa3IOQe6Fftl8y_4S6ywP1kno7l7VtcMeCHZrY67ggFWLA6UyLTMT7yOcK77vavv_c/s1600/75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSRSe6qqXndUNCnGjdMeoSZJl19HA0MSsRzAv08aoJPtcl4nAYg5xKfupXWx7lACvAyULSOP81YDa3IOQe6Fftl8y_4S6ywP1kno7l7VtcMeCHZrY67ggFWLA6UyLTMT7yOcK77vavv_c/s400/75.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Me: "I am holding onto Nolan for dear life right now. I can't imagine that we'll ever get a picture in where he isn't completely blurry from squirming so much."<br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsEwXfTITr7U7fOXGPSqFq-VqZiG3SohyphenhyphenStwibBx9gVNd2mqdtDZKQmV-ZolVmLJO7ZVTQQmQh4sBXfoRNdNJtZfADxpm7BO7SOIg-Fnevt5chkaQXe3qpE8MW0-iJRHO0Etmjf372ro/s1600/78.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsEwXfTITr7U7fOXGPSqFq-VqZiG3SohyphenhyphenStwibBx9gVNd2mqdtDZKQmV-ZolVmLJO7ZVTQQmQh4sBXfoRNdNJtZfADxpm7BO7SOIg-Fnevt5chkaQXe3qpE8MW0-iJRHO0Etmjf372ro/s400/78.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKSnLbeukCDFP7PtYYn946YBbCiVl5jPgARciSOFJ15HGttBG0I_cacWipoU8swE7SzCyON8-RGjoiwiz_drQCbxR54GD0PnmSs5ozfzCuhyphenhyphennLvdXbXMW1v97B5C9hD9jZ_O15dkhLes/s1600/79.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKSnLbeukCDFP7PtYYn946YBbCiVl5jPgARciSOFJ15HGttBG0I_cacWipoU8swE7SzCyON8-RGjoiwiz_drQCbxR54GD0PnmSs5ozfzCuhyphenhyphennLvdXbXMW1v97B5C9hD9jZ_O15dkhLes/s400/79.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">(Okay, no thoughts here. Just all the heart eyes for this one.)<br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgINHujTlrDgAxs74ml-70qLD7IZcS9LcFrU4ULJTyNks6_0LT1A8Rlu35GLYkdGZNirqJC9mSznmNBc1iPabMWgOM2-kyuWcTEghGAdiOBx0BjSMwohC3YwMWKlu0fIVBP5_E1Zi5FuAc/s1600/86.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgINHujTlrDgAxs74ml-70qLD7IZcS9LcFrU4ULJTyNks6_0LT1A8Rlu35GLYkdGZNirqJC9mSznmNBc1iPabMWgOM2-kyuWcTEghGAdiOBx0BjSMwohC3YwMWKlu0fIVBP5_E1Zi5FuAc/s400/86.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLrEfV82G8B9no5y7NO9XjhM6LJuDaz4Y8s-ivPLqErMBv3mGrpMx49peVrEkKHrsHO1zGrY_IJ1pMVLz9YDsfw_Vh5myjI4ZNvOIkkY9PIN6fa0Um1nRilGMh3zPGJwDrvn_s5Ga4zI/s1600/92.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLrEfV82G8B9no5y7NO9XjhM6LJuDaz4Y8s-ivPLqErMBv3mGrpMx49peVrEkKHrsHO1zGrY_IJ1pMVLz9YDsfw_Vh5myjI4ZNvOIkkY9PIN6fa0Um1nRilGMh3zPGJwDrvn_s5Ga4zI/s400/92.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"This is gonna be good."<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUnOX5ONUvMqy8oLWmKGqTyeR_nED9OvPRR3mflQv2msBOqedh-4UqAhozYBXUbFPfzdA9s9vVFF9BxARqjTASzpobC3CfBOu82Q91l4u2L9MOFehycBzYwdUS8NMxFL-6_xpuDxmNLOk/s1600/95.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUnOX5ONUvMqy8oLWmKGqTyeR_nED9OvPRR3mflQv2msBOqedh-4UqAhozYBXUbFPfzdA9s9vVFF9BxARqjTASzpobC3CfBOu82Q91l4u2L9MOFehycBzYwdUS8NMxFL-6_xpuDxmNLOk/s400/95.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"We're smiling this big because we ditched our children."<br /></td></tr>
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<i>Many, many thanks again to the talented Missy of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Prallphotos/" target="_blank">Prall Photography</a>!</i></div>
<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-20280473510392262742017-03-30T13:05:00.001-05:002017-03-30T13:49:26.915-05:00Welcome Home HoneyHi honey! We've missed you! You've been gone for the past eleven days. ELEVEN DAYS. That's like, over a week. And included a full weekend. I mean, we've been here <a href="http://smallshannonigans.blogspot.com/2015/12/reflections-on-past-35-months.html" target="_blank">before</a>, but the days are long, babe. I think there is more to that saying but all I can remember right now is that the days are long and the hours are even LONGER. Oh. My. Goodness. Here are a few notes for you upon your return.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrLyCtanzjDN_WDcOicsQvd3RCwiMjKgmgYBtLArVO-SG7vYaBbDxB67cWPHKpBSF34jy6aRYa7m2-s2WSKE4sUAQwxHPpJJGM5MNB2ci0ew1JzAhBXIyoLhUiva4udeC87G02UT2OnI/s1600/2017+03+30+All+Welcome+Home+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrLyCtanzjDN_WDcOicsQvd3RCwiMjKgmgYBtLArVO-SG7vYaBbDxB67cWPHKpBSF34jy6aRYa7m2-s2WSKE4sUAQwxHPpJJGM5MNB2ci0ew1JzAhBXIyoLhUiva4udeC87G02UT2OnI/s400/2017+03+30+All+Welcome+Home+01.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><i>I swear that Caden actually IS excited for your return.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>You'll notice that most of your clothes are in a pile on the floor of the bedroom closet. The twins decided six days ago that it would be a great idea to pull them all off of the hangers while I dared to brush my teeth in the morning. Yes, that's right, six days ago. They're still there. And probably wrinkled.</li>
<li>I did clean the entire house while you were gone, though. And by "I", of course I mean "the cleaning company that <b>I</b> hired to come out here once a month". It was perfect timing, really. You're welcome.</li>
<li>The food situation is somewhat dire. We do have plenty of mac + cheese, goldfish crackers, and cereal. Not sure about milk, though. If you want something else, you should probably pick it up on your way home. <i>Kidding</i>. For the love please don't stop anywhere and just get home as fast as you possibly can.</li>
<li>Unless you decide to pick up a bottle of wine, anything dark chocolate, a bouquet of flowers, and/or Chipotle. Then, please, go right ahead. (Add the guac. You know I love their guac.)</li>
<li>I am sleeping in tomorrow. I do not know when I will emerge from the confines of our bedroom. I will also be taking a long hot shower, BY MY OWN DANG SELF. I am going to wash my hair AND shave my legs. Please note that the twins' gymnastics class is at 10:40 am. I may or may not be up and ready by then.</li>
<li>Brooklyn's new favorite color is pink. I know that for the past few months it was blue but now it is pink, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul if you attempt to give her anything but the pink cup.</li>
<li>Nolan has added "uh-oh" to his vocabulary. It sounds more like "uh-ahh", and he usually pulls it out after he's thrown his plate, food scraps, or entire sippy cup of milk onto the floor. Repeatedly. It's a really fun game for exactly <b>one </b>of us.</li>
<li>I got a fly out of the house by myself while you were gone. (Where did a <i>fly </i>come from? It's MARCH.) Since you know how I feel about bugs, I probably deserve some sort of medal.</li>
<li>Just close your eyes when you put the kids in the van. But be careful, since you basically can't see the floor anymore. It is a DISASTER. Cleaning it up is at the top of my priority list. However, it's been at the top of my priority list for the past two weeks and you can see how well that's worked out for me.</li>
<li>I am entirely willing to let you completely take over bedtime for all three kids for the <i>next </i>eleven days. Doesn't that sound fun?</li>
<li>We owe several of our friends a round of babysitting or a meal, and my parents some sort of something awesome for all the help they've given us the past week and a half. </li>
<li>I am eternally grateful to you for the following things: taking over garbage duty each week, remembering to always prep my coffee the night before, tackling the twins' daily 6 am wake-up calls, and cleaning the heavy dishes that I can barely lift even before they are filled up with a gallon of soapy water (I'm looking at you, Dutch oven).</li>
<li>While I was really tempted, I resisted the urge to watch any of our shows on Netflix while you were gone. You're welcome again.</li>
<li>I know you missed us, but I'VE MISSED YOU MORE. Welcome home.</li>
</ul>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-75623338033134728222017-03-23T14:08:00.001-05:002017-03-23T14:11:52.076-05:00It's a PersonIt started a week or two ago. I saw from afar, as Brooklyn made the unmistakable motion on her paper of a circle, then finished it off with one straight, deliberate line, and then another.<br />
<br />
"It's a spider!" she announced.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCri5D0AvVijdwqK6KmlwugC7R3QaJOJ9440QfKkvPb5v49EALormJ0aOVntD7djUIpji37srHBKJen1PVebPU3qJLFpmTghGkzo1XVGxKWmGoMxraoaUkAa6XsvK89R946UZc_4LAP9c/s1600/2017+03+11+Brooklyn+Drawing+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCri5D0AvVijdwqK6KmlwugC7R3QaJOJ9440QfKkvPb5v49EALormJ0aOVntD7djUIpji37srHBKJen1PVebPU3qJLFpmTghGkzo1XVGxKWmGoMxraoaUkAa6XsvK89R946UZc_4LAP9c/s400/2017+03+11+Brooklyn+Drawing+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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"It <i>does </i>look like a spider!" I said. (With a little bit of a shudder. Because spiders. Yuck.)<br />
<br />
And she went from (mostly) incoherent scribbles to (somewhat) recognizable art. Just like that.<br />
<br />
+++++<br />
<br />
This past weekend, she had a meltdown. Full-blown screaming, ranting, raving, can't-catch-her-breath tantrum. I let her go for awhile, but with no end in sight, I found a piece of paper and some crayons and walked over to where she was sitting.<br />
<br />
"Draw me a picture of how you're feeling," I told her, still not expecting much beyond a mess of scribbles. (Also feeling pretty proud of myself: <i>draw me your feelings?</i> Genius. Parenting win, right there.)<br />
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She was so concentrated on her drawing, as I peeked at her working so diligently. I checked in with her a bit later to find this.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEeI8_qCfM-vXxNcXbXKF06o9tpzeDibhI7tvGL3y1_LywMj254lUqWdIR9FEDcbl-jrKD6J0AjbtOioDaL7UKMu1SWFEUee1tv4EZsZBl8RdQAvCGLHxm-WuYT1djbooAlW_iql0EUg/s1600/2017+03+19+Brooklyn+Drawing+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEeI8_qCfM-vXxNcXbXKF06o9tpzeDibhI7tvGL3y1_LywMj254lUqWdIR9FEDcbl-jrKD6J0AjbtOioDaL7UKMu1SWFEUee1tv4EZsZBl8RdQAvCGLHxm-WuYT1djbooAlW_iql0EUg/s400/2017+03+19+Brooklyn+Drawing+02.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
I hope you can see it: a large circle for the head, two smaller, fainter circles for the eyes, a line for the mouth. Two vertical lines below for the legs.<br />
<br />
A person.<br />
<br />
She <i>drew </i>a person.<br />
<br />
"That's me sad," she said. Her demeanor had completely changed. She actually wasn't sad anymore; she was thrilled with her drawing. It went from an emotional wreck of a morning to being one of the most exciting moments in all my parenting. She continued to work on her picture awhile longer.<br />
<br />
Representational art. Out of nowhere. We have arrived.<br />
<br />
Since then she's continued to fill sheets with recognizable artwork. My brother babysat the other day, and when I returned I found a stack of papers filled with stick people. "Did <i>you </i>draw these?!?" I asked him, astounded. "No. That's what it would look like if I did though," he said. So thankfully he wasn't offended. (And still the source of my creative skills remains a mystery in my family...) I mean, so far her repertoire is limited: people and suns. I've been saving every one, slipping them out to show anyone who comes over. Artistic mommy is so proud. The thing is, they're not supposed to be able to do this yet. The human figure is supposed to be a process, and take time, and coordination, and <i>years </i>to get there. I showed one of her teachers at school today, who is interested in how children learn to create art. She's given a talk every semester on the creative process in very young children. "That's something a 4-year old might do!" she said. (Is that a mommy brag? Maybe. #sorrynotsorry) Yet Brooklyn pulled this out seemingly overnight.<br />
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Tyson is out-of-town for work (cue the sad cry/screaming emoji), so I keep texting him pictures of her latest creations: "Look at this! Look at this!".<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIX-XHzgVSd8vFtA7tK-DykCPnUB6B2Tiszw1psLyTZH5Oq6qczonUC-c6UziWQavs7zr5bFtf9KrmAxqaV6cHaNJsQ4u-3eHr7IJasBHKUtns8u_KAXwq1a6SftCX9CNvyCIOFsuATwc/s1600/2017+03+21+Brooklyn+Drawing+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIX-XHzgVSd8vFtA7tK-DykCPnUB6B2Tiszw1psLyTZH5Oq6qczonUC-c6UziWQavs7zr5bFtf9KrmAxqaV6cHaNJsQ4u-3eHr7IJasBHKUtns8u_KAXwq1a6SftCX9CNvyCIOFsuATwc/s320/2017+03+21+Brooklyn+Drawing+01.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAUm01qCNjY-CYsf2rFh5FRQk3L7XZe28awjCmuTtR2orvpk3kJmDZvA9qOLw-0xiAeIwMoKIuR1Yruq8BUJJ_89NKncrQQhtrwxyiHDAZnmfm5eAtH_zY1JVG6-lF-ub35-QyI64hwo/s1600/2017+03+21+Brooklyn+Drawing+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAUm01qCNjY-CYsf2rFh5FRQk3L7XZe28awjCmuTtR2orvpk3kJmDZvA9qOLw-0xiAeIwMoKIuR1Yruq8BUJJ_89NKncrQQhtrwxyiHDAZnmfm5eAtH_zY1JVG6-lF-ub35-QyI64hwo/s320/2017+03+21+Brooklyn+Drawing+02.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br />
+++++<br />
<br />
Sometimes these kids surprise us, in the best of ways. It's amazing to watch her create: deliberately starting with a circle for the head, two circle eyes, a line for a mouth, "two noses" (let's hope she means nostrils), two legs, two arms, and even adding hair, all just in the right spots.<br />
<br />
Maybe she picked up on my <a href="http://smallshannonigans.blogspot.com/2017/01/the-year-of-creativity.html" target="_blank">word for the year</a>? I hope so. I am very, very, very excited for the many creations to come.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq97c0yGnImaDwFcculT4eRtqRIr_Yd7FrodiyXlKsQ5xa4JCQyrogiUcMukaluyU0ToNdE3iuyCOoZl-CblLX7MBxtK5o3sJepRjXQEwlCtXJ6rrUY6JEFXqzltn1kaf2K3TahoK50KY/s1600/2017+03+22+Brooklyn+Drawing+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq97c0yGnImaDwFcculT4eRtqRIr_Yd7FrodiyXlKsQ5xa4JCQyrogiUcMukaluyU0ToNdE3iuyCOoZl-CblLX7MBxtK5o3sJepRjXQEwlCtXJ6rrUY6JEFXqzltn1kaf2K3TahoK50KY/s400/2017+03+22+Brooklyn+Drawing+01.jpg" width="310" /></a></div>
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<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-33541296694347582662017-03-08T13:27:00.000-06:002017-03-08T13:27:01.057-06:00Life LatelyIt seems like all Caden and Brooklyn want to do lately is play "Elsa and Anna": one runs away while the other screams after them, "Come back, Elsa!". Then they switch. It's good for getting the energy out. It's bad for me because every other minute I turn around and almost trip over a kid. They're fast. Meanwhile Nolan toddles on behind, with a goofy grin, just trying to be a part of the action. He's Olaf, maybe?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_U4PMGr3Fqa1uKnil87nhRTRIq79cMGVWUX_mnGnyz-PktLLaov5iNr3G3UKFLg5D4ucqHKA6lUc6FCh26EOpU6Q0ok5WM9xPmcevSgiN9UvrvFYZWromth-3ZCvSNaCRj7OcmskNbw/s1600/2017+02+26+Caden+Cape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_U4PMGr3Fqa1uKnil87nhRTRIq79cMGVWUX_mnGnyz-PktLLaov5iNr3G3UKFLg5D4ucqHKA6lUc6FCh26EOpU6Q0ok5WM9xPmcevSgiN9UvrvFYZWromth-3ZCvSNaCRj7OcmskNbw/s400/2017+02+26+Caden+Cape.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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+++++<br />
<br />
Yesterday I literally spent two straight hours cleaning up poop. From 10:30-12:15. (Okay, 1 hour and 45 minutes. Details.) "Blowouts" is not a strong enough word to describe what happened to Nolan and his clothing and the surrounding areas at that time. Three clothing/diaper changes, two baths, and one disturbingly awful load of laundry later, it was finally naptime.<br />
<br />
40 minutes later, he woke up and promptly threw up all over himself and his bed. (Fourth change of clothes, third bath, second yucky load of laundry, if you're keeping count.)<br />
<br />
(Note: he's fine now. I don't think he's sick. The post-nap episode was the last of it. I just think his little tummy had a problem for some reason with the previous night's dinner.)<br />
<br />
It was one of those days where if someone asked what I had done that day I would have drawn a blank, because I really spent most of it washing or re-washing what was basically the same load of clothes, cleaning out the same bathtub, and then rocking the same baby so he could sleep a little longer.<br />
<br />
+++++<br />
<br />
Clothes. Kid's clothes. Life around here is a never-ending carousel of kid's clothing rotation. I just got the newborn, 3-month, and 6-month bins out of Nolan's closet (only to promptly find a few pairs of "6-12 month" pants that no longer fit and need their 6-month bin home... *sigh*), and am now working on the 9-month and 12-month ones. And the twins are so small (no butts to hold those pants up #skinnytoddlerproblems) that I basically moved the 12 month bin straight from their closet to Nolan's, and now need to do the same with the 18-month bin. Meanwhile there are several teetering stacks of 24 month and 2T clothing that no longer fit on the top shelf of their closet that have no home because I ran out of bins. And the 9-month one has a lid that is VERY precariously, barely closed because with the addition of a third kid's 9-month clothes it has more than reached it's max capacity. So I apparently need to buy new bins. Adulting is hard.<br />
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(Putting clothes on is hard, too.)</div>
<br />
+++++<br />
<br />
Caden's favorite new trick is to do forward rolls (aka somersaults). They learned how at gymnastics: hands up in the air, tuck your chin, hands down, and roll. Except he doesn't really understand the "tuck" part, and always pretends to tuck something in his shirt before putting his hands down and rolling. It's pretty hilarious. His new favorite thing is to push all the blankets off of our bed so he can practice his "fo-wad woes" on the cleared-off space, over and over and over again.<br />
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Nolan is wicked fast. Like, super fast at walking. I know they're not <i>technically</i> supposed to be able to run until they are like 18-months or 2 years or something like that, but I swear that at 12 months he's <i>practically</i> there. Like, he could win baby races, if those were a thing. Put some Cheerios at the finish line and he would DOMINATE. He's a speed walker, for sure.<br />
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He's also gotten really good at communicating. He says "book" all the time, and now says "car", which sounds more like "ca-ca" or "ga-ga" as he watches all the cars out the window. When he wakes up from nap he wants to be snuggled for awhile, but after a few minutes of that he will throw his hand up and point at the cord on the blinds, so we can sit and watch the cars pass by out his bedroom window for awhile longer. The other night we sat down in his chair to read a book before bed, but I only got through a couple of pages before he shimmied down, walked over to his bed, sat down next to it, looked at the bed, and looked at me. Then he pulled his sleep sack out through the bars, threw it on the floor, and laid down next to it. Okay, kid. I guess I'll put you to bed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRuvZDpe_nydeLzyXBFGS_YYNcXDF_-zM3mDXWGewJsz-twBh1O3dTQv_YerJR-KUF7vV7ly_T81xDuZS2o2-HqjBC1SbXvDkgtcXFbQ-_dQEKP2zoTKiIsB8dYTtR_jqQNmDRRuqrSIs/s1600/2017+02+24+Nolan+After+Nap+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRuvZDpe_nydeLzyXBFGS_YYNcXDF_-zM3mDXWGewJsz-twBh1O3dTQv_YerJR-KUF7vV7ly_T81xDuZS2o2-HqjBC1SbXvDkgtcXFbQ-_dQEKP2zoTKiIsB8dYTtR_jqQNmDRRuqrSIs/s320/2017+02+24+Nolan+After+Nap+01.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCX9kKGoE8bU32kuMAqtsEEGiF8lOT_OW7Sg3S0mR21l7yAtIsSqIDrmwBybJIJl6SDIky6jH80rSmQiWYn0YRIdKJpLKen9ja2WCc81YJc__7iIJ_JRioXxjOr5nI4CWkoTClSWRYt3o/s1600/2017+02+24+Nolan+After+Nap+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCX9kKGoE8bU32kuMAqtsEEGiF8lOT_OW7Sg3S0mR21l7yAtIsSqIDrmwBybJIJl6SDIky6jH80rSmQiWYn0YRIdKJpLKen9ja2WCc81YJc__7iIJ_JRioXxjOr5nI4CWkoTClSWRYt3o/s320/2017+02+24+Nolan+After+Nap+02.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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It's ridiculously windy and the weather basically sucks and we JUST NEED IT TO BE SPRING ALREADY. These afternoons are killing us. Most of my friend's kids nap later than mine, so they don't wake up until 3 or 4 in the afternoon, but mine are up by 2:00 at least 95% of the time. 2:00-5:00/30 is a LOOONNNGGG time. Especially if we were home in the morning because then we've ALREADY DONE ALL THE THINGS in our house. It's mid-March. I'm out of ideas. It's not fun anymore. We need to be able to go to the park in the afternoon. Period. And then someone told me that it's supposed to snow next week. After it hasn't snowed here for like two months. We might all actually die. Pray for us.<br />
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(Brooklyn's all "I'm over this boy wrestling crap. So over it." Better get used to it, girl.)</div>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-65472784561995337542017-03-03T13:21:00.002-06:002017-03-03T13:21:49.044-06:00An Ode to Bedtime<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ahhh, bedtime.</div>
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Not the actual bedtime routine: the bath - jammies - two, no three, no FOUR stories - <i>and </i>a song - prayers - and eighteen times on the potty marathon that is <i>putting </i>those children to bed.</div>
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No, I'm talking about the blissful, beautiful time <i>after </i>everyone is snuggled down, safe, swaddled, tucked in their beds and <i>sound a-freaking-sleep</i>. The afterglow, if you will. No one wants anything. No one needs anything. No one is touching me. No one is talking. It is <i>quiet</i>.<br />
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I do not take this time of day for granted. No way. I have worked way too hard to get here. The twins have gone through several periods of bedtime protests. Hell might be attempting to put a toddler to bed who insists that they aren't tired through screams, giggles, and tears. Even a couple of months ago we might have been interrupted one, two, three or more times by the baby. Always wondering: when I put him down, will he <i>stay </i>down this time? But now? I lay him down. And I'm done. Period. I don't even bother to grab the baby monitor anymore since I know he'll stay asleep. It's a bedtime miracle!</div>
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This part of the day is beautiful. It's one of my favorites. Dark and peaceful, the long stretch of the day behind. It's full of freedom. Not the I-could-jet-off-to-Vegas-at-the-drop-of-a-hat kind of freedom, but of the I-can-go-to-the-bathroom-if-and-when-I-need-to-without-interruptions variety. It's a time to breathe. Sometimes there are tasks to complete: leftover dishes from dinner, a tour of living room pick-up duty, laundry to fold. Things that need to get done, but they're not the focus. It's a time, often the only time of the day, to rest and recharge. To have grown-up conversations or just watch something other than Daniel Tiger.</div>
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I salute you, bedtime. And while the afterglow is glorious in and of itself, there are a few post-bedtime key players that deserve some special recognition:</div>
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<b>To my comfy chair: </b>Thank you for holding my tired and worn-out body at the end of the day. It's with you that I can rest, read, write, relax, and do my Amazon Prime shopping in peace. </div>
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<b>To leggings: </b>If I haven't already been wearing you all day, you can bet I have changed into you by now. Thank you for being soft and stretchy and, basically, <i>not </i>jeans.</div>
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<b>To dark chocolate: </b>I love you. You are delicious and smooth, bitter yet still sweet. Thanks for existing.<br />
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<b>To wine: </b>Thank you for existing, too. </div>
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<b>To chamomile tea: </b>For being the smarter, or at least cozier choice on other evenings. Your warm, light presence is the ultimate comfort before bed.</div>
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<b>To Netflix: </b>Whether I need something to zone out to, or something a bit more intellectually stimulating, you've got my back.</div>
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<b>To books: </b>Since I always have to be reading something. You're the last thing I look at and fill my mind with before officially shutting down for the day.<br />
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<b>More specifically, to ebooks: </b>Because I don't have to leave my house, get off my butt, or even out of my bed to obtain you. Within seconds. Thanks, technology. You rock.</div>
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<b>To my husband: </b>Thank you for finishing dishes, offering to pick up the house at the end of the day, and dealing with those toddlers demanding their 18th potty trip after being put to bed. I love that you understand and lovingly disappear on the evenings that I "just don't want to see anyone's face", and for accommodating me on the other nights when "all I want is an adult to talk to". I love you most of all.<br />
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-50302308542041802412017-03-01T20:25:00.000-06:002017-03-01T20:25:13.948-06:00Nolan Twelve Months (aka Better Late Than Never)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-63539195647344036102017-02-26T19:57:00.000-06:002017-02-26T19:57:28.949-06:00A Sweet First and Third Birthday Party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The genius of having all of your kids in a three-day span?</div>
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Having to throw only one, mega, blow-out birthday party a year. *all the praise hands*</div>
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As much as I love the planning, designing, decorating, etc., I'm also pretty glad that, like Christmas, it only comes 'round once a year. Until about a decade from now when they wise up and realize that they all want their own dang birthday parties. But until then...</div>
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I may or may not have been planning their party since last summer. (Yes, I'm <i>that </i>mom.) Or at least when my brain was thinking of ideas for a first and third party -because what on <i>earth </i>do you do for two three-year olds <i>and </i>a one-year old? - the phrase "it's sweet to be one and three" kept floating around my head. Kids and candy? Oh yes. So despite the fact that the one-year old couldn't really partake, I ran with the candy theme. The three-year olds on the other hand? Definitely approved.</div>
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{<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00FF8Q6FA/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00FF8Q6FA&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=9ce9729dd0101038abc31dd89c366a7e%22%3EMetallic%20Silver%20Hard%20Acrylic%20Candy%20Buffet%20Scoops%20-%20Package%20of%2012%20for%20Wedding,%20Party%20and%20Special%20Event%20Candy%20Buffets%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B00FF8Q6FA%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">Candy scoops</a>. Scored the candy jars through Facebook marketplace.}</div>
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{Wrapped colored <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01M1NEUVB/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B01M1NEUVB&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=ac95e991135366794892d6d9eec6c99b%22%3ECharmed%2012%22%20assorted%20mix%20color%20paper%20lanterns%20with%20metal%20frame%20(8%20pk)%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B01M1NEUVB%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">paper lanterns</a> in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B017IZGAF8/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B017IZGAF8&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=e739a11fe0013aaff367baba955f071f%22%3ECellophane%20Wrapping%20Paper,%20100ft%20x%202.5ft,%20Clear%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B017IZGAF8%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">clear cellophane</a> for hanging "candy" decorations. <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/482704168/rainbow-felt-ball-garland-nursery-decor?ref=shop_home_active_87" target="_blank">Rainbow felt garlands</a> - planning to use them now as decoration in the playroom or Nolan's room. The party was just a good excuse to order them. ;) }</div>
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{<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00JGUHFKS/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00JGUHFKS&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=d25087d894398f5501842490c027f96c%22%3ELWR%20Crafts%20Wooden%20Mini%20Clothespins%20100%20Per%20Pack%201%22%202.5cm%20(Jacobean)%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B00JGUHFKS%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">Mini clothespins</a>.}</div>
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I am giving major props to myself this year for ordering out for all of the cakes. The cake pops (which turned out to be THE most amazing cake pops I have ever had, and I have <i>had </i>a few cake pops in my day) were made by a friend of a friend, and I ordered the three mini cakes from a bakery. It was the first year that I haven't spent the day or two leading up to the party making 50 or so cupcakes, and with Nolan's nap strike going on, this was sheer GENIUS. There's a very good reason you can pay other people to do these things for you.</div>
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(Yum.)</div>
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The enthusiastic guests of honor:</div>
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(Good work, guys.)</div>
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{<a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/LookieLooLoo/items" target="_blank">Birthday shirts</a>.}</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_lyGAE8XgySF7UdFvrx1qFqEzUWJb926KvLyLREHF40RBNS_spo4iIykef5qOPTS7BqR644qHlzGvKyxDw4GCB8F_vTKkrrQ5ECrJUGaK6X8Hpu39l-OgTA-4rtyGgW1RUCDpMY5O2w/s1600/2017+02+18+Family+Party+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_lyGAE8XgySF7UdFvrx1qFqEzUWJb926KvLyLREHF40RBNS_spo4iIykef5qOPTS7BqR644qHlzGvKyxDw4GCB8F_vTKkrrQ5ECrJUGaK6X8Hpu39l-OgTA-4rtyGgW1RUCDpMY5O2w/s400/2017+02+18+Family+Party+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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(That's...as good as the family pics got.)</div>
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(Fun fact: Brooklyn's hair bow is mine from when I was a girl.)</div>
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The above photo perfectly captures how I felt while opening presents: surrounded by gift wrap and small children while more presents were tossed down on me from above. Gifts for three birthday kids? Seemingly <i>never-freaking-ending</i>. It is somehow actually worse than Christmas.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8fVTdFWuAn5jSPcUiW27i5JquH0vC3j62EEwXNJyFhCfBo0MGRAIwpVEFW-KJg1JTO_u14lZpbtAD-D4vSwF56jZ2IqOAInOB2dNcW77Vk9K3GUvKzmF3D2wQGWDV-jMsaay5BDwn-I/s1600/2017+02+18+Brooklyn+Party+06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8fVTdFWuAn5jSPcUiW27i5JquH0vC3j62EEwXNJyFhCfBo0MGRAIwpVEFW-KJg1JTO_u14lZpbtAD-D4vSwF56jZ2IqOAInOB2dNcW77Vk9K3GUvKzmF3D2wQGWDV-jMsaay5BDwn-I/s320/2017+02+18+Brooklyn+Party+06.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieF8T7ByHVadwpQTdcsvr2a5Uqv4s8Ids1Ca7vtSM90GB6Ah20_eJ-_-WsgiOIVmOyq20In72R7g9Db3mFEy3Rh4z0Kpt4tJv_KHIzswsEXpObts7YQOaTd4Q0ateqaCIMFu3X6dKpBmA/s1600/2017+02+18+Brooklyn+Party+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieF8T7ByHVadwpQTdcsvr2a5Uqv4s8Ids1Ca7vtSM90GB6Ah20_eJ-_-WsgiOIVmOyq20In72R7g9Db3mFEy3Rh4z0Kpt4tJv_KHIzswsEXpObts7YQOaTd4Q0ateqaCIMFu3X6dKpBmA/s320/2017+02+18+Brooklyn+Party+07.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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(Brooklyn, when confronted with a stack of birthday cards at the end with cash inside (i.e. not attached to a gift): "Where's the presents? THESE NEED PRESENTS!" Bless.)</div>
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With three now basically sharing a birthday, I feel strongly that they should at least each get their own birthday cake. My INTENTION was to cut up Caden and Brooklyn's cakes, once the candles were blown out, for anyone who wanted an actual slice of birthday cake instead of a cake pop. Nolan got to dive on in since, well, that's what you do with a first birthday. But the second they saw Nolan going to town with his two little hands, well...</div>
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Dig in, you two.</div>
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(As you can see from Brooklyn's cake, people still weren't shy about snagging a slice.)</div>
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Oh, and you might have thought that Brooklyn's would have been the pink cake while Caden and Nolan got the blue and green ones, but...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmTSwWgMPz8cXDdoIR3fF8H1Kdma-QWEeqRA2JuNVot5F8a8Z5BFb9dRQ53zY_huWQt0wKfgLOD0f1Xy7TOlpi7kuEDPsQMxF3i3rmrMarnX7eTcy_mOQ-UrLcpyzouT5MCscvqeJtHg0/s1600/2017+02+18+Nolan+Party+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmTSwWgMPz8cXDdoIR3fF8H1Kdma-QWEeqRA2JuNVot5F8a8Z5BFb9dRQ53zY_huWQt0wKfgLOD0f1Xy7TOlpi7kuEDPsQMxF3i3rmrMarnX7eTcy_mOQ-UrLcpyzouT5MCscvqeJtHg0/s320/2017+02+18+Nolan+Party+03.jpg" width="230" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgtBz0HzOy0BLyXcuOCGJV6RfU5y39kS2ngNRSFsfywLY0mf4tplFAVwkVgGam-E3jW9sWszdtp-Lu0aSDgzbwiZzshVxe93tBm97MtayImFs_RYA3-AtLzEmoaw90oYNWWWbodYdUuY/s1600/2017+02+18+Nolan+Party+04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgtBz0HzOy0BLyXcuOCGJV6RfU5y39kS2ngNRSFsfywLY0mf4tplFAVwkVgGam-E3jW9sWszdtp-Lu0aSDgzbwiZzshVxe93tBm97MtayImFs_RYA3-AtLzEmoaw90oYNWWWbodYdUuY/s320/2017+02+18+Nolan+Party+04.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Nope. Brooklyn's favorite color is firmly blue, Caden's is definitely green, which left Nolan with the pink cake. (Why order a pink cake then? I don't know. I like pink. I still wanted a pink cake. I suppose I could have done orange maybe? I just liked blue and green and pink together. Also, Nolan doesn't have a favorite color yet and, hey, cake is cake.)</div>
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The difference between the first and second (or third, as the case may be) time around? The first year I was adamant that I was going to make Caden and Brooklyn's birthday cake. It was going to be banana - they LOVE bananas! - and it was going to be all organic and I was making it my own damn self so I knew <i>exactly </i>what was in it. You can't just go around feeding a one-year old a sugared up cake from any old bakery, people! The result being that it was the first time they had ever had cake and didn't really know what to do with it and it was probably still too sweet for them so they hardly touched it. No impressive one-year old cake smashing went on that day. So this time...</div>
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Go to town, little man. You've already had your fair share of cake tasting in the six months you've been allowed solid food, anyway. </div>
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(Cake coma. Good work.)</div>
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Throwing a party for forty people might be draining, but it's nothing, NOTHING I tell you, compared to the aftermath the next day.</div>
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Still trying to find homes for all their swag. It's a very, <i>very </i>good thing these birthdays only come around once a year.</div>
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In case you're interested:</div>
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<i><a href="http://smallshannonigans.blogspot.com/2015/02/ties-and-tutus-first-birthday-party.html" target="_blank">Caden and Brooklyn's Ties and Tutus first birthday party</a></i></div>
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<i><a href="http://smallshannonigans.blogspot.com/2016/02/caden-and-brooklyns-farm-birthday-party.html" target="_blank">Caden and Brooklyn's Farm second birthday party</a></i></div>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-10786483488690311532017-02-22T07:00:00.000-06:002017-02-22T07:00:16.683-06:00One Who Is One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Oh, Nolan...</div>
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What to say about you and those biggest blue eyes turning one?</div>
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(Cake coma.)</div>
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You like to play with balls and anything with wheels. Watching the cars go past out our back windows is one of your favorite activities. You have an enormous appetite, and there's not much that you won't eat. (Except cheese. You're iffy on cheese. I didn't know I grew kids like that.) You are crazy good at walking, and amazingly fast. You walk just about everywhere now, dodging minefields of toys all day long. You're long but skinny, a string bean, and your height surprises everyone when they find out that you are just now turning one. You've learned how to scream recently, and enjoy doing so at every opportunity. You are the most ticklish baby I've ever met. They say babies aren't ticklish until a certain age, but I swear up and down that you've been ticklish since day one. Your brother and sister adore you, and you adore them. Playing with them (well, as much as you can) and watching them run around, jump about, and make silly sounds for your amusement gives you so much delight. You'll never turn down attention but are often just as content to explore and play on your own.</div>
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You are determined. You know what you want and when you want it and there's absolutely no deterring you. You get mad when you don't get your way. You've reached every physical milestone early, rolling over, crawling, climbing, and walking before most of your friends. You love books, so much so that "book" was your first word. Despite quitting, cold-turkey, the sucking of the two middle fingers on your right hand nine months into your first year, you have figured out how to sooth yourself to sleep through the night again. You're not so sure about naps, though. You took three naps for the vast majority of this past year, took two naps for a hot second, but aren't quite sure how to transition to just one, or how long that one nap should be. Let's work on that one, huh? Your enormous blue eyes are the first thing everyone comments on when they see you. Like your big brother and sister, you aren't a bit shy, and the 40 people that were here for your first birthday bash didn't phase you a bit.</div>
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That you were born a year ago seems both completely possible (it <i>has </i>been a long year, after all) and absolutely impossible, both at the same time.</div>
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(Wookit dat smoosh-face.)</div>
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(Family squeeze!)</div>
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You get lots of attention because you're the baby, yet you can also get lost in the shuffle. A million times yesterday I realized with a start that, "oh, right, it's your <i>birthday </i>tomorrow", since we already celebrated a couple of birthdays just the day before. Like your brother and sister, it's a bit surprising that you are turning one just now, since you've hit so many of the big milestones already: walking like a pro, a word or two under your belt. But less so. You are still the baby, after all. That you're growing into an actual toddler is still incomprehensible, in a way. When we make future plans it's impossible to think of you as 18 months, or a two-year old in your own right, able to keep up more and more with your siblings. I can understand having a couple of toddlers and a baby around, but a couple of <i>kids </i>and a toddler? That makes no sense to me. You'll just be a baby forever, right? Besides that nap business, I'd be content to keep you here, right where you are for awhile.</div>
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Of course, you're ready for more. You're not shy about pushing your way into any situation that your brother and sister or other playmates are in. You want to be right there with them.</div>
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Go get 'em, you big one-year old.</div>
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(You know it's been a good party when everything is a bit blurry by the end and you find yourself wandering around without pants.)</div>
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I'm still going to call you Baby Nono, though.</div>
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<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-84496194512842981882017-02-19T07:00:00.000-06:002017-02-19T20:46:36.875-06:00Two Who Are Three<div style="text-align: justify;">
THREE.<br />
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<i>(I promise, they are way more excited than those fake smiles are letting on.)</i></div>
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I can't say that this is exactly one of those "oh my gosh time sure has flown I can't believe my babies are that old omg!!!!!11!!!" kind of posts.</div>
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Honestly? It feels like Caden and Brooklyn have been two-years old for approximately FOREVER. Seriously, this past year has been LONG. I'm mostly surprised that they <i>aren't </i>three yet. In the past few months, I've often found myself thinking of them as three years old. So the fact that we are just getting here? Feels kind of strange.</div>
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Part of that is the addition of baby brother almost exactly a year ago. The year has been long with meeting and caring for another little person's needs. The nursing and the changing and the additional sleep deprivation.</div>
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But the bigger thing is that they themselves just seem so old. They're usually pretty mature. Oh, don't get me wrong. They have their moments. We have our fair share of tantrums and stubborn streaks and lack of listening around here. But for the most part? They're good little kids. They are so <b>very </b>verbal, and certainly not shy. It's usually a race (or a tie) to see which of them answers first when their teachers at school or gymnastics ask a question. They chitter-chatter nonstop and will usually answer a question asked directly to them, whether from an adult or another kid. They're better at sharing and taking turns than most kids their age, simply because they've never known any different. And they just plain old act older. More often than not I find them interacting with the 3, 4, or 5 year olds at the playground or on playdates, instead of their fellow 2-year olds. Just last week at the park, Brooklyn and another little girl were chatting away, having a full-blown conversation, struck up by Brooklyn herself, and I was surprised when her new friend said she was five years old.</div>
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They're so physically able as well. They - Caden especially - don't shy away from the big kid equipment at the park, and tackle most of the challenges sent their way at gymnastics. They've always been a bit on the early side as far as physical movement is concerned, crawling, walking, climbing, etc., and that trend has continued. </div>
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They're both smart. They pick up new concepts and memorize things at lightning speed. More than one of their teachers has commented on how early they were able to recognize all of their letters, and shapes, and colors. They have (or, ahem, <i>can </i>have) ridiculously long attention spans for their age, and will think nothing about sitting through the reading of an entire stack of books.</div>
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And most of the baby stuff has completely disappeared. Where many of their playmates are still in cribs, they've been in toddler beds for over a year. The pacifiers are long gone. They've been out of diapers for half a year or more. </div>
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Between our year of #threeunderthree (so long, hashtag), and their relative maturity, they seem so much older to me than just <i>now </i>turning three.</div>
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But here it is, a third birthday. Times two. A double third birthday celebration. And then again, can it be that it was only three short years ago that these two little babies made us parents? Just three years ago that I was relieved of the 10 1/2 pounds of baby all squirreled up inside of me? Three years ago that our lives were so drastically altered?</div>
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Three-year old Caden loves trucks and tractors. He enjoys play-doh, coloring, and painting, and more often than not is drawing a "road". His answer to, "what should we do?" is usually, "I know! Let's build a choo-choo track!" He is my often serious, sometimes mischievous, rule-following little helper, and the most polite toddler you ever did see. "Oh thank you mommy, thank you! thank you for helpin' me!" He loves to talk and make observations. He has a wild streak - still waiting for that healthy dose of fear to kick in - and is a champion balance bike rider. He also adores books (Berenstain Bears are a particular favorite) and the show Super Why.<br />
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And three-year old Brooklyn. She can be a little chatterbox. Whenever we go somewhere, to school or a friend's house, she immediately finds a baby or a stuffed animal to care for until it's time for us to leave. She is a little mommy to Nolan, too, helping to give him a drink of water or more food and can even "baby-sit" him for awhile, playing games and making him laugh, until her attention wanders to other things. She has a joyful, silly, spirited streak, and enjoys play-doh, coloring, and painting. She loves to sing songs (it's amazing how many she has memorized) and to read books. And with their recent gymnastics classes, she is a near-professional somersaulter. </div>
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Together, these two are absolutely, positively BFFs. If one wakes up before the other, the second one wanders around their bedroom once they get up, wondering "where's Brooklyn?" or "where's Caden?". They play pretend and sing their favorite Frozen songs together all the live-long day. "I'm Elsa - chase me!" "Come back Elsa!" *epic run around the house ensues* "Now I'm Elsa!" *repeats all day long* They adore their baby brother and quite literally tackle him with hugs, and suffocate him with kisses. They love to cheer him on whenever he does something new: "he's standing! He's walking! He said 'book'!"...even though some of these things he's been doing for awhile now. And they share and take turns and help each other - often preferring each other's help instead Tyson's or mine - all day long.</div>
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Happy Birthday, you two big three-year olds! It's about time...<br />
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-57563218924286037752017-02-08T12:57:00.002-06:002017-02-08T12:57:23.348-06:00A Love Story<div style="text-align: justify;">
Falling in love. Or, to be more accurate: staying in love.</div>
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It doesn't always happen. Staying in love is a lot of work. Especially with our children.</div>
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Some days - months, years, seasons - are just hard. We hear about <i>that </i>all the time. The little years especially, all the struggles they entail.</div>
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And let's pause for a moment so as not to minimize the flat out WORK of these years. It <i>is </i>hard. Draining. Sleep schedules, sleep training, sleep deprivation, the cleaning up of ALL of the things, making the food, picking up toys, changing diapers, potty training, carrying those babies in their carseats, getting out the door, soldiering on through bedtime, again, and again, and again. Wake up and repeat. <i>Phew</i>.</div>
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<i>(It's adorable because you didn't have to clean up the floor afterward.)</i></div>
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And yet.</div>
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Sometimes, it happens. An ordinary day, or week, or month. But the stars have aligned. Maybe everyone slept well the previous night. Breakfasts were eaten. Moods and spirits are high. Listening ears have been turned on. The toddlers are filled with cheerful, giggly camaraderie. A perfect equilibrium.</div>
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And you find yourself doing the most ordinary of things: walking down the dairy aisle of Target, in my case. And you realize...</div>
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<i>Hey...These kids - </i><b style="font-style: italic;">my </b><i>kids - they're pretty GREAT!</i></blockquote>
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You listen as they chitter-chatter about their favorite kinds of cheese (not gouda or feta, mind you, but the kind that have been branded with <i>Frozen </i>characters). "Coffee - you need that for your coffee, mommy!" is shouted as they point to the heavy cream in its case. Hey, I do. Thanks for the reminder, guys. They discuss gifts for their new baby cousin (a baby doll "just like mine!" from the toddler girl, a "shaker thing", aka rattle, because "babies love shaker things!" from the toddler boy). They sit nicely, calmly, making little toddler jokes and enjoying each other's company. </div>
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The baby happily munches on a cracker from his perch inside the cart and you realize that you haven't really been paying attention to where you've been steering that thing, because these kids? Are kind of awesome. Look at them - look at <i>us </i>- all out in public and making conversation and giggling and <i>behaving</i> ourselves! You want to squish them and kiss their cheeks and laugh with them some more, because this? This is FUN! Right now you'd be content to just keep on pushing that cart forever. Of course that won't happen. There are things like lunches to make, naps to be had, an entire schedule to attend to. And also you should get that gallon of milk somewhere with refrigeration, stat.</div>
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Sometimes the feeling lasts for a moment. Only until you reach the checkout lane. Or just until the chaos of bedtime. Occasionally the stars <i>really </i>align and the feeling lasts for days, or even weeks.<br />
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<i>(Like when they discover the joy of entertaining their OWN DANG SELVES. Can I get an amen?)</i><br />
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It's a simple story, nothing new, tale as old as time. But every now and then it reaches out and catches you, on the most ordinary of days. You want things to stay this way, just like this, forever. This moment, that mood, this feeling, <i>these</i> kids. For any of it to change, for time to move on, feels like the ultimate tragedy. And even though they are your children, you realize that you're living what can't be anything other than a love story.</div>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-31342858953695478192017-01-30T13:02:00.000-06:002017-01-30T13:02:03.900-06:00To the Mama of Early Risers<div style="text-align: justify;">
Good morning, mama.</div>
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You double-check the video monitor to be sure, but no, your ears are not deceiving you. They're awake.</div>
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Brother is awake. Sister is awake. Baby is awake.</div>
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Everyone but you. You stretch and roll over - can't you catch just a few minutes more of sleep, please? - but you know that it is futile. The time on the clock reads an hour that you rarely saw before kids, but is now your new normal. You were hoping that <i>maaaybe </i>today they'd forget to wake up for another hour or so. It's been so long since you've had a full night's sleep, much less woken up on your own. Most of your daydreams now revolve around a night in a hotel. ALONE. Clean sheets, fluffy pillows, and <i>quiet</i>.<br />
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It's hard. You're so tired. Your body is sore and ache-y from never getting a proper amount of uninterrupted rest. Your cloudy mind tries to mentally prepare for what should be the simplest of tasks: throw back the covers, roll out of bed.<br />
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Why is your bed always it's coziest at six in the morning?<br />
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Sometimes it seems so unfair. The fact that your kids, yes, <i>all </i>of them, wake up so early. Earlier than any of your friend's kids. They don't quite understand. Just the other day one of your good friends complained about their baby waking up "sooo early". Which was at 6:45. That day, like many days, you'd been awake since 5:30. You managed not to punch her. You are a Christian, after all.</div>
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This is maybe the toughest thing you will ever do. Looking at the long stretch of another day at this early morning hour. Talking yourself into getting out of bed in the morning can be quite the mental chore. On your worst days, you start the countdown until 5:00 - daddy's home! - before 8:00 am.</div>
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It might not be fair, but it<i> is</i> your reality, so you do throw those covers back. Contacts in, a splash of water on your face. Do you have enough time for a whole shower? Or maybe it's another dry-shampoo-will-do kind of day. Dab of makeup. Exchange your nighttime pajamas for what is basically a daytime set. Thank goodness for leggings. At least <i>athleisure </i>is a thing now.
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Small blessing that this morning there were no potty emergencies or tantrums that demanded your attention before you were even awake. No pressing needs. But that's just the thing, isn't it? How much they NEED you right now. So many <i>little</i>, little ones. Too many, it sometimes seems. Who need you for ALL the things. To get their food, change their clothes, wipe their bottoms, plan their activities, clean up their messes. It's exhausting. Especially when, most nights, you're still up with the baby a couple of times. Maybe a toddler a time or two, with a nightmare or help on the potty. You know this is important work, you <i>do. </i>You're just not so sure that the people telling you to "enjoy it because it all goes so fast!" remember what a luxury their very own quiet bedrooms at 6 am are.<br />
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And yet.<br />
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This is a season. I mean, it remains to be proven, but you do hear that these little ones grow up. They start to fend for themselves more and more. They don't need so much help on the potty. They can pour their own bowls of cereal. Even better: maybe you can train them to make your coffee. Maybe - miracle of miracles - they start to sleep in a little bit. You're not sure that you'll ever mourn the passing of these early mornings, <i>that </i>can't come soon enough. But their littleness? That you will miss. A snuggly baby. Toddlers still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, blankie trailing behind, and a sleepy, "hi mommy!". Footie pajamas...what screams "baby" more than that?!? Yes, you will <b>definitely </b>miss the footie pajamas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVjAN5yZ3F7nLJFwmqjVeu2eu0tPCVUYyn7zm00dxN4L9rv1a5PuwYwPUIXaYuQR3Yi7gc9YaXhjyTYp4j4X0G_74D_O0NLBPnIx-FsZEYHE17znM6Vk0W7GvP6vKBwZy3LWivn3sQDY/s1600/2016+09+26+Coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVjAN5yZ3F7nLJFwmqjVeu2eu0tPCVUYyn7zm00dxN4L9rv1a5PuwYwPUIXaYuQR3Yi7gc9YaXhjyTYp4j4X0G_74D_O0NLBPnIx-FsZEYHE17znM6Vk0W7GvP6vKBwZy3LWivn3sQDY/s400/2016+09+26+Coffee.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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But that day is not today. Today still requires you to focus, to be present, to do all of the things. You're still quite surrounded by toy blocks, sticky fingerprints, and, yes, footie pajamas. </div>
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A pause at the door, a breath. It's the beginning of the day, so (in theory, at least) your reserves of patience, gentleness, and kindness should all be full. You wing up a quick prayer - HELP will suffice - and move forward to greet your little ones for the day.</div>
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And hey, maybe it's not too soon to train them in on how to prep that coffee.<br />
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-75835240623368057592017-01-23T20:39:00.002-06:002017-01-23T20:40:10.787-06:00Read, Watched, Listened<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<i>I love reading just about everything, watching comedy and documentary-type things, and have wholeheartedly embrace the podcast. I also enjoy hearing about what other people are reading, watching, and listening. Here's my two cents worth.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEise55if5tcJH7HZutTx12Xm2H74u2uj5gUeotNMXTff8G6s9gdM7qvCLBhDRMQSFuAtSxVXP8w2kVraRioJlMy1SGXC-C46LI8hgAV4eJpy3_ticO0yYEwVaMIYLT2MjvivhvfLBPxCpo/s1600/2017-01-14+21.31.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEise55if5tcJH7HZutTx12Xm2H74u2uj5gUeotNMXTff8G6s9gdM7qvCLBhDRMQSFuAtSxVXP8w2kVraRioJlMy1SGXC-C46LI8hgAV4eJpy3_ticO0yYEwVaMIYLT2MjvivhvfLBPxCpo/s400/2017-01-14+21.31.22.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Read</b></div>
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<u><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0310342996/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0310342996&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=a34923ee7299d31c9ceb4ba9f85154f5%22%3EPresent%20Over%20Perfect:%20Leaving%20Behind%20Frantic%20for%20a%20Simpler,%20More%20Soulful%20Way%20of%20Living%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0310342996%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">Present Over Perfect</a></i></u><br />
I am a definite Shauna Niequist fan, and this latest work was another beautiful read. She has such a gift for storytelling and stringing words together. It should be obvious from the title, but Present Over Perfect emphasizes a turn away from the rush and the spotlight and towards what's actually important; family, friends, home. Choosing where and what we say yes to. However, I do have to say that as an average mom with a messy playroom and an abundance of sticky fingerprints and not all that many engagements to keep in the first place, it was a bit hard to relate to. I still love her storytelling, but I just can't relate to saying "no" to such big opportunities in life that she is experiencing (i.e. speaking engagements, interviews, books etc.). I still appreciate her perspective, but it definitely wasn't relatable for me from that standpoint.<br />
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<u><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0800722450/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0800722450&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=e96fbacdc217d25d185370d1430304b5%22%3ESimply%20Tuesday:%20Small-Moment%20Living%20in%20a%20Fast-Moving%20World%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0800722450%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">Simply Tuesday</a></i></u><br />
This made a bit more sense to me. Emily P. Freeman's idea that it's in our "Tuesday moments" - Tuesday being the most ordinary day of the week - that we can really thrive and find ourselves. So much of our life is made up of the Tuesdays, not the big grand sweeping moments that we might like or think it to be. I loved her perspective about being a bench sitter, someone who embraces the small moments and marks them as something important. This book was a breath of <i>life</i>, especially for someone in a season of raising very small children. Also check out her hashtag #itssimplytuesday on Instagram for some lovely, ordinary, inspiration.<br />
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<u><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1496403371/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1496403371&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=39648eacaab817d1eda5177dca6c6487%22%3EThe%20Lifegiving%20Home:%20Creating%20a%20Place%20of%20Belonging%20and%20Becoming%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=1496403371%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">The Life Giving Home</a></i></u><br />
Okay, I guess my books had a theme this month. Being present, embracing small moments, the importance of the home, etc. I've been listening to Sally Clarkson's <a href="http://sallyclarkson.com/podcast/" target="_blank">podcast</a> for awhile, and was excited to finally dive into one of her books (which was co-written with her oldest daughter). She and I have a lot of the same opinions on the correlation between home life and the health of our families, and the importance of rituals and routines to mark our seasons and our days. I love her idea of daily teatimes. Her book is full of inspiration (she is definitely an idealist, which helps this self-proclaimed realist to dream a little bigger) and practical stories and ideas on how she breathed life into her own home. From listening to her podcast and some other interviews, many of the stories were familiar to me, but reading the book was a good reminder and nudge at the beginning of the year to keep up and create some rituals of my own.<br />
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<b>Watched</b><br />
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<i><a href="http://www.bravotv.com/top-chef" target="_blank">Top Chef</a></i><br />
Tyson and I are diehards. We love it. We catch up with each week's episode and Last Chance Kitchen online. This season, half of the competitors are repeats (or "veterans" as they call them) so if you've watched previous seasons, you'll recognize some familiar faces. There's been some decent drama this season, too, though not in a dumb way, that have made a few of the episodes even more fun to watch.</div>
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<b>Listened</b><br />
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<i><a href="http://politics.uchicago.edu/pages/axefiles" target="_blank">The Axe Files</a></i></div>
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My political-minded cousin recommended this one to me and I can't get enough. David Axelrod, a former senior advisor to President Obama, interviews people in the political sphere from both sides of the party lines. Even when he interviews someone that I disagree with (I'm looking at you, <a href="http://podcast.cnn.com/the-axe-files-david-axelrod/episode/all/gZu91NTxKM9zuN/oip20c.html" target="_blank">Sean Spicer</a>) I come away with a greater understanding of who they are and where they are coming from. If you're scratching your head and feeling despair over the last election (#allthewailingandgnashingofteeth), I strongly recommend listening to Axelrod's well-reasoned, articulate, intelligent conversations. Start with his post-election chat with <a href="http://podcast.cnn.com/the-axe-files-david-axelrod/episode/all/ZMKY9a4vWmcjjS/29gant.html" target="_blank">Doris Kearns Goodwin</a>. Or his interview with <a href="http://podcast.cnn.com/the-axe-files-david-axelrod/episode/all/Yg1u54uYTmB7Mb/me1tyh.html" target="_blank">President Barack Obama</a>...but you just might need some tissues for that one. (Side note: also has the classiest intro music I've ever heard for a podcast.)</div>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-60299069347788750462017-01-13T12:35:00.001-06:002017-01-13T12:35:23.042-06:00Thirty<div style="text-align: justify;">
No longer a twenty-something.</div>
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I'm not sure what I think about that. I've been a twenty-something for <b>so long </b>- it feels like about a decade, amiright? - that it's weird to be in a new place. Like it or not, age is a part of our identity. We don't really remember our youngest years, though every birthday is a thrill then, until we hit double digits, which is it's own form of excitement. Pre-teen segues into teenager and then we hit our twenties and it seems to slow down a bit and we stay there awhile. There are so many milestone birthdays all piled on top of one another 1-10! 13! 16! 18! 20 and 21! But this is the first *big* birthday in-what? Five years? Nearly ten?</div>
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I want to say it feels different, but it really doesn't. I mean, I'm pretty convinced that I've been sitting at twenty-five for the past few years so anyway, so thirty doesn't even seem possible. But here I am. And when I stop to actually think about twenty-five? It seems like eternity ago.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzAnpUmbbknwSCQzrbjqVGTGDBjQjeCMRqgIFFxTZaZ1YQUu-kCyS6661fWBQVDxkdcZRnQuT9SCx4bqochu-N7UlajIBMN2eFso2BFTHY1b_UzxwS5-GRcgO-gR9dcTvUJcud_cqOUSA/s1600/2017+01+13+Me+30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzAnpUmbbknwSCQzrbjqVGTGDBjQjeCMRqgIFFxTZaZ1YQUu-kCyS6661fWBQVDxkdcZRnQuT9SCx4bqochu-N7UlajIBMN2eFso2BFTHY1b_UzxwS5-GRcgO-gR9dcTvUJcud_cqOUSA/s400/2017+01+13+Me+30.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Thirty is definitely NOT twenty-something.</div>
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Twenty was college and classes and friends and parties and roommates and projects and papers and deadlines. At my twentieth birthday, I hadn't even met Tyson yet (though that was just a few months away). I wasn't looking to meet anyone and I had halfway convinced myself that I would move somewhere out east after graduation in a couple of years. I wasn't officially in my university's interior design program yet. At twenty, I hadn't even met most of my core group of friends in college. I wasn't writing as much as I do now and I hadn't realized how much I enjoy food and the process of cooking, which are things that seem so integral to my life right now. I probably <i>did </i>still drank the same amount of coffee, though. Pulling all-nighters hasn't really changed. It's just that now it's with a baby instead of a design project (although really, both of those things are kind of my babies). Otherwise, thirty looks absolutely nothing like twenty. Twenty was very different.</div>
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Twenty-five. At twenty-five, Tyson and I had been married for a little over a year. I was working my first interior design job as a closet designer, though I didn't yet know that it wasn't going to last but a few more months. We had moved the previous fall to a new apartment in Madison, but we didn't really know how much longer Tyson had left in school, much less what our next steps would be. We certainly didn't anticipate having twins in another couple of years, or adding a third baby to the mix almost exactly two years to the day after that. Twenty-five was still so fluid. So many unknowns.</div>
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Now thirty.</div>
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Thirty is settled. It's an interesting switch, since my life at forty will probably look very similar to life at thirty. Of course I realize that anything can happen. There will be hard things and happy things and new life and losses along the way, sure. But it's incredibly likely that we'll be in the same house, with the same kids, albeit a decade older (even if kids in their double-digits seems absolutely unfathomable now). We'll (hopefully) have many of the same friends. Thirty is more determined, and life is settling into a pattern that was absolutely unimaginable five years ago, ten years ago. Heck, even two years ago. </div>
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It's almost like this is my first "grown-up" birthday. In many ways there are fewer unknowns. Most of the big questions in life have been more or less settled: marriage, kids, house. There's not the "where will I even be what will life look like" questions that there were at twenty, or twenty-five. My kids will have memories of me in my thirties. They'll start to make memories and form attachments to our traditions, our values, our family life, during this decade. Heck, I remember my mom wearing a faded pink sweatshirt around the house, emblazoned with the words "thirty<b>something</b>" printed in teal. For all I know she wore it into her forties.</div>
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In fact, I should ask her if she still has it, tucked away in a drawer somewhere. I could use it for about the next decade.</div>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-40827102909161317822017-01-10T20:28:00.001-06:002017-01-11T13:12:37.722-06:00These Are the Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
I lay snuggled up in bed last night, propped up on pillows as I finished Emily P. Freeman's <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0800722450/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0800722450&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=e6e0550942a8d9f01d6533798f9cd1f3%22%3ESimply%20Tuesday:%20Small-Moment%20Living%20in%20a%20Fast-Moving%20World%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0800722450%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank"><i>Simply Tuesday</i></a>. Towards the end she talked about writing down in her journal "these are the days of..." and listed what was going on in her life. I immediately set her book (well, my tablet) aside, grabbed my journal, and started scribbling.</div>
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These are the days of:</div>
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<ul>
<li>(too) early mornings with (too) early risers</li>
<li>leggings and comfy shirts</li>
<li>Cheerios for breakfast</li>
<li>...found later scattered on the floor and tucked into folds of clothing</li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimA2xge29Jlp8UxYH5LbmcUsXUlu27p2m5TyvGZmusv37ClIeSOCWoIB2-MQ3A-BE2L6iqxo-9SnE4r8bYEQxRP0F0EGuOze9paudkNMBvLOIe6USXwnvk8lMgnLF9vpoRLsGy5gwfAc4/s1600/2017+01+09+Nolan+Kitchen+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimA2xge29Jlp8UxYH5LbmcUsXUlu27p2m5TyvGZmusv37ClIeSOCWoIB2-MQ3A-BE2L6iqxo-9SnE4r8bYEQxRP0F0EGuOze9paudkNMBvLOIe6USXwnvk8lMgnLF9vpoRLsGy5gwfAc4/s400/2017+01+09+Nolan+Kitchen+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>not enough coffee (at least of the hot variety)</li>
<li>knowing all the words to the songs in Daniel Tiger and Super Why</li>
<li>living in danger of being loved to death by a big brother and sister</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04DbB0LgEAWsuclomJCzgPsQ7J30NO10GbsxsBk7s2Gmk5GPINBuT_OyVgjPUhB5O6xfUHmqHj1pCjb18rgVXC0s6bXqrr-j0MGMyCnCZ4xjfhX5g335pZCIYS7VN2yEsSWZuLLUQMxk/s1600/2017+01+02+All+Bedroom+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04DbB0LgEAWsuclomJCzgPsQ7J30NO10GbsxsBk7s2Gmk5GPINBuT_OyVgjPUhB5O6xfUHmqHj1pCjb18rgVXC0s6bXqrr-j0MGMyCnCZ4xjfhX5g335pZCIYS7VN2yEsSWZuLLUQMxk/s400/2017+01+02+All+Bedroom+01.jpg" width="345" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>wiping too many bottoms</li>
<li>being bundled in a dinosaur coat and a polka dot one</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvO63DLQKMz3vWoN0G7qJrqCCYfMEMFkoBLS-4xLQgDBfcOF_Xw65XNh9miEdTN1vJIHzx0rWcxK8x-0MYBvBgNKucetT8cwDUadBc16NljbtmeWMZzqhW0mY1hi6-u9lDhDSIcVmEPRY/s1600/2017+01+09+All+Snow+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvO63DLQKMz3vWoN0G7qJrqCCYfMEMFkoBLS-4xLQgDBfcOF_Xw65XNh9miEdTN1vJIHzx0rWcxK8x-0MYBvBgNKucetT8cwDUadBc16NljbtmeWMZzqhW0mY1hi6-u9lDhDSIcVmEPRY/s400/2017+01+09+All+Snow+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>three in the Target cart</li>
<li>picking up too many toys</li>
<li>savoring the quiet of naptime (<i>blessed</i> naptime)</li>
<li>resenting the apperance of a too-short napper</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHO8Q8ugSDcoItETANxNbLLH_seSVRZwUUcRCkhhycb8xRDZu2pvKSUGZVyxTIqcF9jV8u-N4Te7rQfjBde6p16C3Wpu_mkIkJ9lEQlEhmsD9VCxahjv-jM4oltBNwxVzu9NcYDfrVVrg/s1600/2017+01+02+Both+Bedroom+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHO8Q8ugSDcoItETANxNbLLH_seSVRZwUUcRCkhhycb8xRDZu2pvKSUGZVyxTIqcF9jV8u-N4Te7rQfjBde6p16C3Wpu_mkIkJ9lEQlEhmsD9VCxahjv-jM4oltBNwxVzu9NcYDfrVVrg/s400/2017+01+02+Both+Bedroom+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>the infectious excitement of a baby when I walk into the room</li>
<li>lazy (as much as possible) afternoons</li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvwiWsbwYmD-0X97r8JkyTAzQu6xPEIrMaD9w7zLavJWmNi4GeNUC9LMXPb60SxBzZXJGkA3CTfoOTvF28k8ugIkPgx55J_v7TGM9oskBIlDIPZgz2TI5U77RAOLGkvqWu2AY8ozqDaY/s1600/2017+01+09+Both+Bedroom+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvwiWsbwYmD-0X97r8JkyTAzQu6xPEIrMaD9w7zLavJWmNi4GeNUC9LMXPb60SxBzZXJGkA3CTfoOTvF28k8ugIkPgx55J_v7TGM9oskBIlDIPZgz2TI5U77RAOLGkvqWu2AY8ozqDaY/s400/2017+01+09+Both+Bedroom+01.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<ul>
<li><i>Frozen </i>sing-alongs</li>
<li>negotiating the battlefield of two toddlers and a baby playing with the same toy</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbgk_ke_zWh-7TqapBWusdC5E127Y7FBwAUEKQqIMJa82nnOeTL8jl4ODeNWLWYHxlOQSQ25l9w0l8NuvnPDWu9Id-zzOvOep0SytsRcHYkFSl1FzvoiNMWvx-ywz7wmjMmpCGQn2nyo/s1600/2017+01+05+All+Bedroom+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbgk_ke_zWh-7TqapBWusdC5E127Y7FBwAUEKQqIMJa82nnOeTL8jl4ODeNWLWYHxlOQSQ25l9w0l8NuvnPDWu9Id-zzOvOep0SytsRcHYkFSl1FzvoiNMWvx-ywz7wmjMmpCGQn2nyo/s400/2017+01+05+All+Bedroom+03.jpg" width="317" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>counting down to the 5 o'clock hour</li>
<li>everyone around the table</li>
<li>a couple of kids who are constantly being told to "sit <i>down</i> at the table"</li>
<li>post-dinner games of memory</li>
<li>everyone in the tub</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj008rK_BcFcjasOx-EanCmW_wQgAyWkACbymt6i9HsmbPQH3D20mW9iI78Oewj7nL-oEf1-8f6iEjs2_7CvvNUeFzXytG34rODd48PijGKdrVUqtpGtkJYEZ0RmIKP2YlQrhN8BDlCZF4/s1600/2017+01+08+Nolan+Bath+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj008rK_BcFcjasOx-EanCmW_wQgAyWkACbymt6i9HsmbPQH3D20mW9iI78Oewj7nL-oEf1-8f6iEjs2_7CvvNUeFzXytG34rODd48PijGKdrVUqtpGtkJYEZ0RmIKP2YlQrhN8BDlCZF4/s320/2017+01+08+Nolan+Bath+01.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUm_IQoFgIKXQTInc4owAqXJOMvPU1HUPfror8Ci_jKlzRlp6qrYq13ES4oJM6ZeKk5e4B2zr3zX6kBpUfY-E4FrMj9BPh9WTAq1FiL5azFAoEOrhpbBKemi0TZiBDN8Jx4Xj4GXsYLYE/s1600/2017+01+08+Nolan+Bath+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUm_IQoFgIKXQTInc4owAqXJOMvPU1HUPfror8Ci_jKlzRlp6qrYq13ES4oJM6ZeKk5e4B2zr3zX6kBpUfY-E4FrMj9BPh9WTAq1FiL5azFAoEOrhpbBKemi0TZiBDN8Jx4Xj4GXsYLYE/s320/2017+01+08+Nolan+Bath+02.jpg" width="271" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>early bedtimes</li>
<li>picking up too many toys <i>again</i></li>
<li>snatched moments of "me" time </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHcHbAWEJG0TT2vMcJJr0SroWi-cLO7qtpnmgJJbMe0mSROUqNQK6Y3JhWwSvY7-Xx4v-6GUnsgyY8IWFzlVMEQX_EgL0CQlFklwF_vSZmD5bdFeZwzriXIEvhCxJpgNNFAt1ZD_enQ0/s1600/2016+10+07+Tea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHcHbAWEJG0TT2vMcJJr0SroWi-cLO7qtpnmgJJbMe0mSROUqNQK6Y3JhWwSvY7-Xx4v-6GUnsgyY8IWFzlVMEQX_EgL0CQlFklwF_vSZmD5bdFeZwzriXIEvhCxJpgNNFAt1ZD_enQ0/s400/2016+10+07+Tea.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<ul>
<li>snatched moments of "us" time</li>
<li>collapsing into a comfortable, fluffy, never-made-because-why-bother bed</li>
<li>night wakings</li>
<li>a pep talk the next morning to motivate myself to go at it for another day</li>
</ul>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-26720746817231226292017-01-05T21:09:00.003-06:002017-01-05T21:09:57.401-06:00The Year of Creativity<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Create</i>.</div>
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That is my word for this year: 2017.</div>
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It's a new thing for me, to choose a word, a theme, for the year. I've never been much of a resolutions girl or even a writing-down-my-goals girl. Resolutions have always seemed a little, I don't know, forced? overly hopeful? just plain cheesy? to me.</div>
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But a word? A word I can do.</div>
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For Christmas, Tyson gifted me "<a href="https://www.coffeeandcrumbs.net/blog/2016/12/6/introducing-the-year-of-creativity" target="_blank">The Year of Creativity</a>", put on by the ladies of the <a href="https://www.coffeeandcrumbs.net/" target="_blank">Coffee + Crumbs</a> blog. It's essentially a year long class, prompting (or maybe at times <i>forcing</i>) the act of writing and cultivating creativity. He knew I wanted to participate, but that it was something I would never gift myself. (Shout-out to the hubby: you're a keeper!) This gift, this year of creativity, is what inspired my word this year, and to even bother to choose one in the first place.</div>
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<i>Create</i>.</div>
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And I mean create in the fullest sense of the word - to create with my writing, certainly - but also in other ways as well. To create areas of my home that are cozy and inviting and welcoming, areas that have been somewhat neglected since the chaos of moving and then <a href="http://smallshannonigans.blogspot.com/2015/12/reflections-on-past-35-months.html" target="_blank">Tyson being gone</a> and surviving our year of #threeunderthree. To create food, good food. I mean, I <b>love </b>me some food. And I love the making of food. The entire baking and cooking process is so interesting and therapeutic and, yes, creative, for me. And to create a peaceful, not frantic, schedule for our family so we can soak up these "little" years. </div>
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This isn't a post with a pretty picture. I don't have such free reign to create during the "pretty" hours - the sunlight streaming in and a clear, well-rested head with a mason jar of fresh-cut flowers nearby and everything arranged just "so". That's not how this stage of life works right now.</div>
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Much of this creativity is happening in the after-hours, the fringe hours of my day. It's dark, shadowy even. Blurry. It doesn't photograph well. But this is where my creativity is happening. This is where you will find me for much of this coming year. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimpuczowQ6VW0TN2YijoC8Pj4VQ8SzXXMgPnbBVUWldyWjK51gkkNg5IUpYITwKOIXIYmlsjGXEnwCkMp2LDdFvU4XRMDCWbyADZv_-Gyj0fiUtTjCbFRHv3xEmJWGBKgEMvEE6HUDwnU/s1600/2017+01+05+Writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimpuczowQ6VW0TN2YijoC8Pj4VQ8SzXXMgPnbBVUWldyWjK51gkkNg5IUpYITwKOIXIYmlsjGXEnwCkMp2LDdFvU4XRMDCWbyADZv_-Gyj0fiUtTjCbFRHv3xEmJWGBKgEMvEE6HUDwnU/s400/2017+01+05+Writing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Kitchen table. Dark. Tea. Or maybe a glass of wine. Pen. Journal. On a good day something sweet will be nearby. Quiet, above all else.</div>
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Tonight, I've actually created several things. I've created a clean home (i.e picked up 1029 toys). I even created perfect scenes in the twins' dollhouse as I re-arranged the jumble of furniture for the night (#interiordesigner4life). I finished creating invitations for the kids' birthday party and sent them off to the printer. And now I've created this.</div>
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The year of creativity has begun.</div>
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<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-10503985719025903212017-01-03T14:16:00.000-06:002017-01-03T14:16:44.204-06:00It's Not Always Like This<div style="text-align: justify;">
As I left the store this morning, my cart loaded down with three kids and eight bags of groceries, another mama was just entering the store. Two kids in tow herself, a boy and a girl who looked very close in age. They must have been 3 and 4? 4 and 5? Or maybe even twins.</div>
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They were NOT having it. Tears on the verge of tantrums for both. She grabbed a cart, saying, "we've only been in the store for 30 seconds, guys!", with a little smile. The kind of smile that says, "this is funny except that it's NOT AT ALL funny because now I need to deal with it".</div>
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I was able to give her a quick smile of my own, along with a "good luck", as I walked out the door myself.</div>
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We probably looked pretty good to her, done with our shopping, myself with three kids younger even than her two, all in good moods and happily munching on the bananas that were their rewards for good behavior in the store.</div>
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I only had time for that "good luck", but what I wanted to tell her was "it's not always like this!".</div>
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My three are usually well-behaved in public. But not always. Like last week. Let's just say that last week they <i>didn't </i>earn their bananas for good behavior in the store.</div>
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Today was a good day, happy chatter as we walked through the store, minimal reaching for things on the shelves. Some friendly words for the cashier and a cheerful "thank you!" to the giver of the free bananas. </div>
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We came home and Caden and Brooklyn even helped unload the groceries - and I mean they were ACTUALLY helpful with putting things in the right places and handing me items from the bags that needed to be put away where they couldn't reach. (This is an immense improvement over their previous practice of taking everything out of all the bags and leaving it all on the kitchen floor as a sort of grocery minefield for me to pick up.)</div>
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They went off and played with their own toy kitchen, still fresh from Christmas, and played their own version of pretend grocery shopping and putting the things away.</div>
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But it's not always like this.</div>
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Solidarity, mama. I'll take what we had today. Call it luck, or a little Tuesday morning blessing. I could just as easily be you tomorrow.</div>
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<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-13373417283351417982016-12-26T14:11:00.001-06:002017-01-03T08:58:02.022-06:00Post (Super Mega Ultimate Christmas) Weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCzzSZHzLRN_TjNaQuMAQfNFYDw-hSIlk34oLGy4gdzEp6flKN3R2aS7gBh2veMrOhfnLoFKOk_38-Vmy-to5VNF19cGBPEDECnNqtVOdCoRppPtNuqGwxPDq2yZiA_18K1gegFV6QLA/s1600/2016+12+24+Caden+Christmas+Eve+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCzzSZHzLRN_TjNaQuMAQfNFYDw-hSIlk34oLGy4gdzEp6flKN3R2aS7gBh2veMrOhfnLoFKOk_38-Vmy-to5VNF19cGBPEDECnNqtVOdCoRppPtNuqGwxPDq2yZiA_18K1gegFV6QLA/s400/2016+12+24+Caden+Christmas+Eve+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I love scrolling through Instagram and Facebook and seeing everyone's festive Christmas pictures and activities. Presents and kids and food and fancy clothes and twinkling lights and cookies and bows and sooooo much glitter and new toys, trips, and surprises. It brings out both the designer and the nesting side of me, seeing everyone's decorations and Christmas outfits and activities and edibles and then <i>(maayyyybeee) </i>silently critiquing or coveting other people's decor, fashion, and food choices. Mostly coveting the food choices, let's be honest here.</div>
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Knowing, of course, that behind it all are parents and people who are sleep-deprived, who actually feel absolutely <i>out </i>of ideas and energy, and have spent way too much time just trying to <i>find </i>the time to get everything done, with real relationships and family to navigate, love on, and/or avoid. So we chug some more coffee, close up the social media and work on getting our own presents and houses ready and cozy for our families, and maybe even call it GOOD E-FREAKING-NOUGH and take a little break before the chaos to put our feet up and drink a glass of wine or hot chocolate by the fire. </div>
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And hey, some of our pictures look dang good. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq5yqCdIhk21hOdU-erwIkcN4GmXLeKwxvqLy7gEpd5GbojfzkWP-ezJakoCtuK0Nc6LHAiEKVf8FSCCtfdU3NsZhK6a08zVFbVYBUTbC02j7ZheIOpUhRdFFmIFP_kXBCM59v4y9OuFM/s1600/2016+12+24+Christmas+Cookies+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq5yqCdIhk21hOdU-erwIkcN4GmXLeKwxvqLy7gEpd5GbojfzkWP-ezJakoCtuK0Nc6LHAiEKVf8FSCCtfdU3NsZhK6a08zVFbVYBUTbC02j7ZheIOpUhRdFFmIFP_kXBCM59v4y9OuFM/s400/2016+12+24+Christmas+Cookies+03.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Or even downright delicious. A good cookie plate might be one of the most beautiful sights of the holidays. <a href="http://www.realsimple.com/food-recipes/browse-all-recipes/chewy-gingersnaps" target="_blank">Chewy gingersnaps</a>, <a href="http://www.cookingclassy.com/pretzel-mm-hugs-christmas-style/" target="_blank">M&M pretzel melts</a>, caramels, and festive chocolate bark. (Easiest "recipe" ever. Melt some good dark chocolate bars down (30 second increments in the microwave if you want to make it even easier, and stir, stir, stir between each one.) Pour chocolate out onto a baking tray lined with parchment paper and spread in a thin layer that is roughly the same thickness throughout. Sprinkle liberally with toppings of your choice. I used cranberries, pumpkin seeds, and a healthy dose of sea salt. Refrigerate the entire tray until chocolate is set and then break it all up into small pieces. Voila! Ridiculously easy homemade chocolate bark.)</div>
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(It admittedly makes me a little emotional to see beautifully wrapped gifts torn to pieces. #realdesignerproblems)</div>
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Caden and Brooklyn absolutely lost their freaking MINDS on Christmas Eve when my parents showed up for our small family celebration. Brooklyn was SHRIEKING with delight as they ran back and forth from the door to the tree, helping to haul presents inside. "Presents! Presents! Presents!!!" </div>
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As you can see, there were absolutely no presents.</div>
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(Professional tag-ripper-offer.)</div>
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(One making weird faces. One twirling. One completely oblivious. We're going to call it a success.)</div>
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(Two destroying. One still oblivious. Also a success.)</div>
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Not really pictured: a whirlwind of present opening, followed by...</div>
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Jammies. Christmas jammies. </div>
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"Dear Santa, Define 'good'." If there is a more appropriate set of Christmas pajamas for these three I'm not sure what it is. The older two look a little guilty just standing there. ;)</div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">(Fun fact: on Christmas Eve, usually later in the evening, I end up decorating a bucket for one lucky recipient the next day. A bucket? Yes, seriously, a bucket. We draw names on my mom's side of the family and one year my dad drew a name and they needed a bucket, apparently? for some reason? and my dad took the idea and RAN with it and now whichever name he draws each year receives a bucket. A themed bucket. One year it was bedazzled with rhinestones for my fashionable cousin (who literally took it to the bar with her as a "purse" on New Year's Eve), another year we stepped our production up a notch and used COLORED sharpies instead of just black ones. And there's a letter with it and everything with the bucket company's name and instructions for your bucket and things to do with your bucket (i.e. take your bucket for a walk, portable bathroom, as a companion at the bar </span><i style="text-align: justify;">which apparently my cousin</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><i style="text-align: justify;">ACTUALLY DID</i><span style="text-align: justify;"><i>)</i> and I don't even know anymore but it is seriously a family tradition around here. Ten years strong. If that's not a tradition I don't know what is. It's like not even weird to us anymore except that now I'm typing this out and it makes NO SENSE except really, it totally does. People, THIS is why I have a design degree.)</span></div>
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One last round of playing with their new goodies before a reading of <i>The Night Before Christmas...</i></div>
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...and then it was off to bed. </div>
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Which sounds so simple, but a peek behind the scenes would have revealed a little baby who has had issues falling/staying asleep lately (he's stopped sucking those middle two fingers *sob* so now apparently has no other way to sooth himself now) and a couple of bigger kids whose frequent and multiple bed escapes may have elicited a threat of "if you don't stay in your beds I'm going to tell Santa not to come". And apparently it worked, because...</div>
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...he came.</div>
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(The anticipation.)</div>
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It was hard to tear them away from the dollhouse to open any other presents. Which was slightly unfortunate, as I had wrapped up the dollhouse <i>people </i>as a separate gift and after making his initial inspection of all things dollhouse Caden realized that "there no people! I need people!" and ran off to the playroom to find...I don't know. Lego people, maybe? And it was all we could do to get him to come back to the Christmas tree to unwrap another present because "maybe Santa left you the people as a separate present why don't you try unwrapping THIS VERY SPECIFIC ONE here and let's see". (Spoiler alert: it totally was the dollhouse people.) Then Brooklyn opened up the set of pets for the dollhouse and was literally SHAKING with excitement. (Spoiler alert again: we've already lost the cat and the rabbit. Looked high and low and in every conceivable nook and cranny. #reallifewithtoddlers) (UPDATE: we found them IN THE BRANCHES of the Christmas tree. Of course.)</div>
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(Gifts unwrapped. Aka daddy's naptime.)</div>
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I am so thrilled with this dollhouse. It's big enough for two to play with, came with most of the sets of furniture, and is beautiful. Even with only a girl, I would prefer a gender-neutral house anyway (Just...enough with the pink and sparkles already. I don't need bedazzled shingles.), and this one has so many great features.</div>
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(Enjoying his first Christmas.)</div>
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The only thing Caden requested for Christmas was a doctors kit. I'm happy to report that Santa came through on that one.</div>
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(Be still my heart. Gorgeous clothes and new dollhouses, curly hair and twinkle lights nearby are what Christmas is all about.)</div>
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Tyson more or less has most of this week off now. It used to be such a letdown - could anything be more disappointing to a child than the day <i>after </i>Christmas? - but now it's one of my favorite times of year. The wind is literally howling outside (hello, wind advisory) some snowflakes are swirling, and we are settling into a week of pajamas, comfort food, cozy blankets, new toys, and family time. I mean, we'll be going slightly stir-crazy by the end of the week, but hey. </div>
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Sometimes that's okay.</div>
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<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-3970001666511234922016-12-22T09:48:00.001-06:002016-12-22T09:48:43.873-06:00Nolan Ten Months<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz0URuUVQHS6Gv-FDDXb7Ng3qzPLMqSiSiZ9gJwzQQW-W4lLt7n4c3OHG0AZk4bM6Dm6w5orGYm7vyUfhJX5daqy4WfDXScyt_B0IGC2hmhihAUM-pS16aD2yoapxK_MCbkEFJTU8-KLE/s1600/Nolan+10+Months.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz0URuUVQHS6Gv-FDDXb7Ng3qzPLMqSiSiZ9gJwzQQW-W4lLt7n4c3OHG0AZk4bM6Dm6w5orGYm7vyUfhJX5daqy4WfDXScyt_B0IGC2hmhihAUM-pS16aD2yoapxK_MCbkEFJTU8-KLE/s400/Nolan+10+Months.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-23459100404274949302016-12-13T20:33:00.002-06:002016-12-13T20:33:59.210-06:00Read, Watched, Listened<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<i>I love reading just about everything, watching comedy and documentary-type things, and have recently embraced the podcast. I also enjoy hearing about what other people are reading, watching, and listening to. Here's my two cents worth.</i><br />
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<b>Read</b></div>
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<u><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0143127691/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0143127691&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=e9b1b766a584a514920ced0b52243df7%22%3EBurnt%20Toast%20Makes%20You%20Sing%20Good:%20A%20Memoir%20with%20Recipes%20from%20an%20American%20Family%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0143127691%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">Burnt Toast Makes You Sing Good</a></i></u><br />
Re-read. A memoir/cookbook, which is a genre that I've stumbled upon and been devouring- pun <i>intended</i> - lately. Okay, I admittedly haven't tried any of the recipes, but the family stories and the way they are told are soooooo well done. Kathleen Flinn's writing is interesting, intelligent, and funny, and she has a knack for telling stories that I'm sure in her family are told over and over again. It's engaging and light, for the most part, and is a fun read with the added bonus of the recipes.<br />
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<u><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0061120073/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0061120073&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=d082b431679be6aedb6ea828ff3431b7%22%3EA%20Tree%20Grows%20in%20Brooklyn%20(Modern%20Classics)%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=0061120073%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">A Tree Grows in Brooklyn</a></i></u><br />
Let's call this a re-re-re-re-re-re-re-read for me. One of my favorite books of all time. I probably read it for the first time when I was 12 or so? I couldn't even tell you but I just adore it. Kathleen Flinn referenced it at the end of her memoir above, and I couldn't resist segueing right from <i>Burnt Toasts Makes You Sing Good</i> to <i>A Tree Grows in Brooklyn</i>. It's an American classic, a coming-of-age story about Francie Nolan and her family living in Brooklyn in the early 1900s. The characters are so vivid, the writing is beautifully descriptive, and it's just so honest that I fall in love with Francie all over again every time I read it. It's also interesting to come back to books that I read as a kid, and remember how I used to relate to the younger characters but can now see so much from the adult side. I haven't read it in years, so I'd forgotten all about Francie's last name - Nolan - and it made me all the more glad I have a baby boy named the same. I can now claim that his name comes from a great literary work, instead of the lame "oh it was just a name we liked" answer I otherwise have to use. ;)<br />
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Honestly in the past month, I've mostly been reading things about the election. (No wonder I needed to go through those feel-good re-reads above.) It's hard to believe the election was over a month ago already. The post-election coverage has been enormous. If anyone still finds them helpful, and if you can stomach reading anything more that's related to the election, here are some of the best articles I've read in the past month:<br />
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/10/opinion/girls-can-be-anything-just-not-president.html" target="_blank">Girls Can Be Anything, Just Not President</a><br />
<a href="http://www.cracked.com/blog/dont-panic/" target="_blank">Don't Panic</a><br />
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/22/opinion/donald-trumps-demand-for-love.html" target="_blank">Donald Trump's Demand for Love</a><br />
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/22/opinion/questioning-donald-trump.html" target="_blank">Questioning Donald Trump</a><br />
<a href="http://www.teenvogue.com/story/donald-trump-is-gaslighting-america" target="_blank">Donald Trump is Gaslighting America</a> (Teen Vogue. Seriously.)<br />
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/13/magazine/al-franken-faces-donald-trump-and-the-next-four-years.html?_r=0" target="_blank">Al Franken Faces Donald Trump and the Next Four Years</a><br />
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Though maybe the best thing I've read post-election, the thing that has really stuck with me, comes from a statement Bernie Sanders wrote on November 9th:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; text-align: left;">“To the degree that Mr. Trump is serious about pursuing policies that improve the lives of working families in this country, I and other progressives are prepared to work with him. To the degree that he pursues racist, sexist, xenophobic and anti-environment policies, we will vigorously oppose him."</span></blockquote>
Amen to that.<br />
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<i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/title/80025678" target="_blank">The Crown</a></i><br />
We're halfway through this series on Netflix based on the life of (the current) Queen Elizabeth. It's fantastic - the costuming, the acting, the sets. It really is just beautiful (their budget must be enormous). Tyson and I have both been enjoying it and Google-ing and Wikipedia-ing different things to get us up to speed on historical events and people that are referenced. I thought it was supposed to be a full sweep of her life from the time she took the crown up to the present, but we're 5 episodes in (of 10) and only through the first few years of her reign, so there must be more seasons to come. That's definitely something to look forward to.<br />
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<i><u><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Good-Girls-Revolt/dp/B017AOY4WS" target="_blank">Good Girls Revolt</a></u></i></div>
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I'm a little over halfway into this one, too. Set in 1969/1970, it's set at the fictional magazine News of the Week, but is based on real-life events that happened at (the real) Newsweek magazine. Honestly, I'm kind of meh on it, you guys. I'm invested enough that I want to finish this season, but I can't help but compare it to <a href="http://www.amc.com/shows/mad-men" target="_blank">Mad Men</a>. And, of course, NOTHING ON THIS EARTH compares to Mad Men. I'm really trying to rate this show based on its own merit, but the whole time I keep thinking how the costuming isn't as good (though it IS pretty fab), the dialogue isn't as sharp, and the character development is nothing in comparison. So really, I should probably just watch Mad Men all the way through again. In all my spare time.<br />
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<i><u><a href="http://www.cracked.com/podcast/what-f2A2Ak-just-happened-election-autopsy/" target="_blank">The Cracked Podcast</a></u></i><br />
Not something I listen to regularly, but the episode I linked to (What the F**k Just Happened You Guys?!) (Profanity! Not a lot, but you've been warned) is specifically related to the election. It was released the morning after the election and is a conversation between a couple very thoughtful, well-reasoned writers working through what happened in regards to the election and what led up to it. They're processing it all just as much as anybody else was that day, but it was interesting and also insightful to hear everything discussed so calmly and rationally, yet with a healthy dose of "what the f**k?" thrown in.<br />
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-87044526903577924222016-12-06T19:55:00.000-06:002016-12-06T19:56:31.262-06:00Post Weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This weekend definitely felt like one that was leading up to Christmas. A winter weekend. Dare I say - a perfect winter weekend. It was a winter weekend that felt so nice and cozy because we've got <i>maaayyybeeee </i>another six weeks to go before we are SICK AND TIRED of winter weekends. So we'll enjoy the fun they give us while it lasts.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxfldigobTLdJhv1lBZF7oa5KOA8lDPWJcgbCUCA5en1sY4yXa99-1IXG-Rj7Zqq8owkDVBxs0JKr6uEopRhQYqUoJldzzDNADJFr5ih8looibw4B8FyA2aYghvaY42FUyXdgpJHcihY/s1600/2016+12+04+Both+Tyson+Snow+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxfldigobTLdJhv1lBZF7oa5KOA8lDPWJcgbCUCA5en1sY4yXa99-1IXG-Rj7Zqq8owkDVBxs0JKr6uEopRhQYqUoJldzzDNADJFr5ih8looibw4B8FyA2aYghvaY42FUyXdgpJHcihY/s400/2016+12+04+Both+Tyson+Snow+01.jpg" width="275" /></a></div>
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Winter weekends were made for snow. Playing in it...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEx-u-52YvbYe7zBBTIOfTs2W7J4wI2F2NCRfZPo4qrCwVjSv7SqCDL7RXrYCGQpPoH_n-gGpTjmG69MbO0NzDVf4IIehzvAevscwRN33TdYehW2qucmN32R79sTTuy2B-JPs-PEETZbA/s1600/2016+12+04+Caden+Snow+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEx-u-52YvbYe7zBBTIOfTs2W7J4wI2F2NCRfZPo4qrCwVjSv7SqCDL7RXrYCGQpPoH_n-gGpTjmG69MbO0NzDVf4IIehzvAevscwRN33TdYehW2qucmN32R79sTTuy2B-JPs-PEETZbA/s320/2016+12+04+Caden+Snow+01.jpg" width="244" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-oFwt8d6VQrEv_J3QvWLPpVWhGYaD4W26j0dAw_vGQGWV0RFBs7ZTS-IO13h_IDf8L743usPe8NEreCMjNlrPOxIx7Y85e6swuU2RQNei_NrZwYjzVD5eNZPRzj0-pLGe9vYCEFgKwc/s1600/2016+12+04+Caden+Snow+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-oFwt8d6VQrEv_J3QvWLPpVWhGYaD4W26j0dAw_vGQGWV0RFBs7ZTS-IO13h_IDf8L743usPe8NEreCMjNlrPOxIx7Y85e6swuU2RQNei_NrZwYjzVD5eNZPRzj0-pLGe9vYCEFgKwc/s320/2016+12+04+Caden+Snow+02.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>
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...and discovering the eating of it. Way to stay hydrated, guys.</div>
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(Nolan's face says it all. "We were inside the warm house and then you bundled me up so I can't move and put things on my hands so I can't get to my fingers or grab things even if I could move my arm and don't you know that grabbing things is my FAVORITE and I'm not sure why we're out here when it's a solid 50 degrees warmer inside the house where I could crawl around." Sorry, dude. But you do look good in orange.)</div>
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Of course once we <i>did </i>get back inside, it was straight to some cookie baking. One of Caden and Brooklyn's favorite activities. (Which is good news for me, since the <i>eating </i>of cookies is one of <i>my </i>favorite activities.)</div>
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Well, favorite activity minus the mixer:</div>
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(Death stare.)</div>
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I guess it got kind of boring. But it's all worth it when there are beaters to lick in the end.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdXQyvBozfN47ajWSdngDiajUxHpepaoKjS2cfnntFLf-_kr2rt0s85kpekHWtALI-QARv3ATLUxq9mzWm7iKyrqGg_Wt4kBOB_FAHNSkmQcT3gkpYtway1yCKV2hKB_UDITeWydS-wY/s1600/2016+12+04+Caden+Cookies+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdXQyvBozfN47ajWSdngDiajUxHpepaoKjS2cfnntFLf-_kr2rt0s85kpekHWtALI-QARv3ATLUxq9mzWm7iKyrqGg_Wt4kBOB_FAHNSkmQcT3gkpYtway1yCKV2hKB_UDITeWydS-wY/s320/2016+12+04+Caden+Cookies+01.jpg" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZADjfMvmxMwH4FscWoAw-JEvo9o_bywU92_GeoD2Z1hIFgAHOuZ11jbi48aSFDurtchpE_3Gmfkk5UDXsBAoq-pr9vt2WnkzaJVcJtfmNQt87QK43OWJ6JEvS8gQrOm4h9AMWDOspdE/s1600/2016+12+04+Brooklyn+Cookies+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZADjfMvmxMwH4FscWoAw-JEvo9o_bywU92_GeoD2Z1hIFgAHOuZ11jbi48aSFDurtchpE_3Gmfkk5UDXsBAoq-pr9vt2WnkzaJVcJtfmNQt87QK43OWJ6JEvS8gQrOm4h9AMWDOspdE/s320/2016+12+04+Brooklyn+Cookies+01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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(Shhhh...there were totes raw eggs in the batter. Don't tell anyone's mother.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrplH33ZGIm4lAe1Rn8ylNzTKkO2S0sMNanPB_Ojz46tsz001x8bjH03ZIr9zQ76OagspsObPe2l7UQn5pfu4Y3pwIoAvnNQkXoY2_WOonPMwNGDAI_JyAb1Dc6jvcXn3Yf4-Zv-Ss6Zw/s1600/2016+12+04+Both+Me+Cookies+04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrplH33ZGIm4lAe1Rn8ylNzTKkO2S0sMNanPB_Ojz46tsz001x8bjH03ZIr9zQ76OagspsObPe2l7UQn5pfu4Y3pwIoAvnNQkXoY2_WOonPMwNGDAI_JyAb1Dc6jvcXn3Yf4-Zv-Ss6Zw/s400/2016+12+04+Both+Me+Cookies+04.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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My mom was all like, "wow, how ambitious of you to play in the snow and bake cookies all in one morning!" and I was all, "yeah, but I was <i>supposed </i>to be organizing/sorting/going through the mess of clothes that fit/don't fit/possibly fit at one time in all the kid's closets and this just sounded more fun". I'll take ambition, but it was <i>really </i>some productive-looking procrastination.. Tomato, tomahto. Whatever.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5u4E3Aa932DexzSwl53W_kpXfH1eSUn5itMaiMdnBnI9F5Ez_1eXrR-xYqX9eh3ZMz_9EGEPVfsZJotck_UPajS5oTzt1-LTUEOBWJ_uOQf5SLDRYtBkNPgVfSt19Wbf17tq9VNRfGc/s1600/2016+12+04+Both+Me+Cookies+05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5u4E3Aa932DexzSwl53W_kpXfH1eSUn5itMaiMdnBnI9F5Ez_1eXrR-xYqX9eh3ZMz_9EGEPVfsZJotck_UPajS5oTzt1-LTUEOBWJ_uOQf5SLDRYtBkNPgVfSt19Wbf17tq9VNRfGc/s400/2016+12+04+Both+Me+Cookies+05.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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(This <a href="http://www.oceanspray.com/Recipes/Corporate/Desserts-Snacks/Santa-s-Hot-Cocoa-Cookies.aspx" target="_blank">recipe</a>. Downside: needing to be put in the oven twice. Upside: placing marshmallows on top was super thrilling for these little hands. And honestly, I could have done without the dried cranberries in them. Sorry, Ocean Spray.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqIOIRzMmnU7q9zSIlM8b-Np_Tm7cP_rXryHbFbwyQvWKQPRM1z1KGe01jbcB4V4F4SUcnnkJF5pzKlgcKgJmj3CJbBO0JvqTJbn7tR8f0Ve3Etmjq2lyU1Nw-vyRS2yZE47OMn-4jpQ/s1600/2016+12+04+Caden+Me+Cookies+04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqIOIRzMmnU7q9zSIlM8b-Np_Tm7cP_rXryHbFbwyQvWKQPRM1z1KGe01jbcB4V4F4SUcnnkJF5pzKlgcKgJmj3CJbBO0JvqTJbn7tR8f0Ve3Etmjq2lyU1Nw-vyRS2yZE47OMn-4jpQ/s400/2016+12+04+Caden+Me+Cookies+04.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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And...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatWcwI18KNl5hynUDy7WSEaqR3tCx1xEQp4BfHAJmKSSO-6vd959OtVe4DBBAgx8WG5m9Ldsq56z11QEa2OL7r4c_nOZ6vJEYpIAyhQUryWbw7JILZs_IN2NWu5TymwQWRe7dra42OVY/s1600/2016+12+04+All+Tree+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatWcwI18KNl5hynUDy7WSEaqR3tCx1xEQp4BfHAJmKSSO-6vd959OtVe4DBBAgx8WG5m9Ldsq56z11QEa2OL7r4c_nOZ6vJEYpIAyhQUryWbw7JILZs_IN2NWu5TymwQWRe7dra42OVY/s320/2016+12+04+All+Tree+01.jpg" width="222" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvnhx6sFCd4GyV2n4Obi2yxjKIwfQwC8kaN5MoOMEGz9S8r5gzL3xqrgYnA2uxNVDjs4Ehz-UBQg4KYS8cnstxA5xu7Xq8OXbKCiGOQVxwKpSCM5I971lesM1SGi2fCZlb2Vt1MeUNZM/s1600/2016+12+04+All+Tree+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvnhx6sFCd4GyV2n4Obi2yxjKIwfQwC8kaN5MoOMEGz9S8r5gzL3xqrgYnA2uxNVDjs4Ehz-UBQg4KYS8cnstxA5xu7Xq8OXbKCiGOQVxwKpSCM5I971lesM1SGi2fCZlb2Vt1MeUNZM/s320/2016+12+04+All+Tree+02.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>
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...a tree! The tree is up! After debating whether I even wanted to bother with a tree this year (we put up a small one <a href="http://smallshannonigans.blogspot.com/2014/12/it-has-begun-to-look.html" target="_blank">a couple of years ago</a> when Caden and Brooklyn were Nolan's age because I was NOT dealing with two babies trying to pull over a 7-foot tree) we went for it. After the initial fiasco of "oh crap the middle of the tree isn't lit" (something wasn't plugged in properly OH DUH SURPRISE), it's been a festive note in the background ever since. I managed to get some ribbon on it yesterday, but I'm not so sure about adding ornaments. While Nolan has steered surprisingly clear of the tree so far, I'm not so sure he could ignore sparkly, dangly things that look EXACTLY like toys hanging from the branches.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHzZhxijwmolnjBv1XQ7-BaxcC0mO0O6BiXJ1Me_x39fyT7Yqr_bdR1zhDf4P-GwkqKdsJ2Z4kv8sHZX9MgQaRDztR73QhKsWN5KKOwSxOznaqoA3DUz2ZID0lQQPLwCQRf09EJEvg1cs/s1600/2016+12+04+Both+Tree+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHzZhxijwmolnjBv1XQ7-BaxcC0mO0O6BiXJ1Me_x39fyT7Yqr_bdR1zhDf4P-GwkqKdsJ2Z4kv8sHZX9MgQaRDztR73QhKsWN5KKOwSxOznaqoA3DUz2ZID0lQQPLwCQRf09EJEvg1cs/s400/2016+12+04+Both+Tree+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And these two probably couldn't, either.</div>
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Maybe I'll call it minimalism and say we're good for the year. </div>
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<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357302954583193732.post-80451809601153903852016-12-05T07:30:00.000-06:002016-12-05T07:30:15.200-06:00Advent. It's a Thing.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Advent is a thing.</div>
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I mean, I know it's a thing. I grew up in the Catholic church for goodness sakes - I KNOW Advent. If there's one thing the Catholic church does well, it's <i>tradition</i>. (Cue opening song to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRdfX7ut8gw" target="_blank">Fiddler on the Roof</a>...) The candles, the prayers, the anticipation. It's a beautiful thing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0J5DcZoBbM68Fv31qMy3COqcb_SbKaRGTq6dfcV6ycXlwq4R6sFRhpdhMNpfYgZ3KuUOrGwy3pSTIVgRspXK1KIKKSlaK6yXUxPwLuKoouuHwYir1kRtBYgBGqQ4cUnqHUew16VKS3Tc/s1600/2016+11+29+Both+Nativity+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0J5DcZoBbM68Fv31qMy3COqcb_SbKaRGTq6dfcV6ycXlwq4R6sFRhpdhMNpfYgZ3KuUOrGwy3pSTIVgRspXK1KIKKSlaK6yXUxPwLuKoouuHwYir1kRtBYgBGqQ4cUnqHUew16VKS3Tc/s400/2016+11+29+Both+Nativity+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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But suddenly it's an INTERNET thing. At least the corners of the internet that I frequent. The Pinterest-y, mom blog, "489 Ways to Celebrate Advent With Your Children!!!!!!1!!"- type corners. And <b>maybe</b> there aren't <i>actually</i> articles with 489 ways to celebrate Advent, but when everyone is posting up all the things they are doing during the season, it sure seems like it. I think by now we're all familiar with social media overload. It's kind of exhausting to think about. Especially when December kind of creeps up on you. I mean, I knew it was coming - it <i>was</i> November and all - but November seemed like a quick march right up to Thanksgiving, (and travel, in our case), and so here we are, thrust into Advent with no particular plans. No daily calendar, no hidden chocolates or candies or puzzles for each day. Are you covering your mouth in horror? Because admitting that almost seems like the ultimate #momfail these days.</div>
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Let's be honest, parenting small children is difficult enough without adding HOLIDAYS to the mix. The everyday is filled with too many things to do in not enough time without worrying about adding some holiday magic to the mix.</div>
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Thankfully, the kids are pretty good about adding the magic themselves.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWapuHwWEx6jP-xd0ne5zrNab70APlNRO2V8nUxlPeFVbEeB2a7-h0sD-wNmckwKuq6DEcIrOPLvwXAyK0pSVQ8KvOChMlUih5mmhNfWH9v00IKQdjeWaR3TixXi0xckvcTwab2U5MJlU/s1600/2016+11+29+Brookyn+Nativity+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWapuHwWEx6jP-xd0ne5zrNab70APlNRO2V8nUxlPeFVbEeB2a7-h0sD-wNmckwKuq6DEcIrOPLvwXAyK0pSVQ8KvOChMlUih5mmhNfWH9v00IKQdjeWaR3TixXi0xckvcTwab2U5MJlU/s400/2016+11+29+Brookyn+Nativity+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0g_5MhPevdUsYbhzrXPyBAb6TnPCcTUzOjfUJASqIvqoBf4GYo4yz8iEEIZwCCWqRREiBrXJohnkJQDM-lz3jiW-rVt920ZMPvS7lFPISRsCwp_OE-J1nEe2MkmtcVGbN-zUwrBSJO0/s1600/2016+11+29+Caden+Nativity+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0g_5MhPevdUsYbhzrXPyBAb6TnPCcTUzOjfUJASqIvqoBf4GYo4yz8iEEIZwCCWqRREiBrXJohnkJQDM-lz3jiW-rVt920ZMPvS7lFPISRsCwp_OE-J1nEe2MkmtcVGbN-zUwrBSJO0/s400/2016+11+29+Caden+Nativity+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Grabbing Mary and a sheep and singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb"? Magical. And, yup, hilarious.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhHbokS_AXLyf7CnlVnTYy7AUMRknhMO7Im7negm-FHVOEdqJtBpV0hGAcPGTM_VRjWaGQ5KPkf0mIvV6_H9Gfuq9SwbQJDCw-ATIF8qEpN4paAnlIKZPoli1zF0UnaJ33ySAXQYPMqM/s1600/2016+11+29+Nolan+Playtime+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhHbokS_AXLyf7CnlVnTYy7AUMRknhMO7Im7negm-FHVOEdqJtBpV0hGAcPGTM_VRjWaGQ5KPkf0mIvV6_H9Gfuq9SwbQJDCw-ATIF8qEpN4paAnlIKZPoli1zF0UnaJ33ySAXQYPMqM/s400/2016+11+29+Nolan+Playtime+03.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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Being blessed to celebrate another first Christmas? Definitely magic.</div>
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Listening to Caden read me the Christmas story? Which involves this SINGLE page. And goes like this: "And they say 'hi Jesus!' and they all singing the sheep and the flying and ev-yone happy the end". Every time. Magic.</div>
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So, with three kids under three, I've committed to doing exactly four things this year to celebrate Advent and lead up to Christmas. (And by now you should have realized...ain't no elves up on my shelves. Props if you can pull that off, but as for me and my house? <i>NO thank you.</i>)</div>
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1. Read the Christmas story each day. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01LP46288/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B01LP46288&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=381c2722ed63fc9917ed2c8038fd2532%22%3EThe%20Story%20of%20Christmas%20by%20Thomas%20Nelson%20(2013-10-29)%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B01LP46288%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">This one</a> is half falling apart from all the love we've given it over the past couple of years, and has the best rhymes.<br /> 2. Play with the nativity set each day. The one shown above in the first photos was one we'd been given for the kids. Let's just say that while the figures were kid-friendly in size, they were NOT kid-friendly in material. A couple of broken wise men's crowns and half a shepherd later, we gave them <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00BH0FLHE/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00BH0FLHE&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=09dfa005f259dfb806a6598a4f163a5e%22%3EFisher%20Price%20Little%20People%20Nativity%20Christmas%20Story%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B00BH0FLHE%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">this one</a> as an early Christmas present. We gave it to them on the 1st, and it has been THE MOST played with toy, by far, in the few days since then.<div>
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And since it's, y'know, <i>made</i> for kids, even Nolan can get in on the action.</div>
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"Sing me the SONG, mommy!" Brooklyn says, every time she wants me to act out the Christmas story with the figures. We've been over it many, many times. Caden loves to fly the angel around, especially in scenes when the angel has KEY LINES, such as "hey btw you're totes gonna have give birth to God's son", and laughs hysterically as he zooms away. Brooklyn carries Baby Jesus and "his mommy" around all over the house. And Nolan, y'know, chews on everything. It's got something for everyone!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yBHOzY7ZoK1AxoOt9vOU-F-MOiDJgnAzfooFVQdgpMHIget3KIUEvD243ShizlzYIesoZxR3s94dlMZBs5bqQUJW4MsHQRJ0Dc7PKrVJ00MJ_WGtxi9il3AcR97wBuNJ66OZ5a6gt9c/s1600/2016+12+03+Both+Nativity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yBHOzY7ZoK1AxoOt9vOU-F-MOiDJgnAzfooFVQdgpMHIget3KIUEvD243ShizlzYIesoZxR3s94dlMZBs5bqQUJW4MsHQRJ0Dc7PKrVJ00MJ_WGtxi9il3AcR97wBuNJ66OZ5a6gt9c/s400/2016+12+03+Both+Nativity.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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It's also great because Caden and Brooklyn are in prime-play pretend mode. So far this morning Mary, a wise man, and the camel have gone on an adventure to "daddy's store" (aka Lowe's). "Do you have your money?" "Buckle up!" (Apparently this camel has advanced safety features.) "It's far, far away." </div>
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3. Sing Christmas songs. Hymns. We're loving the Christmas albums from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0013DDPNC/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B0013DDPNC&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=2ae52d2f23082301ea6fa1003a0fd68b%22%3EThe%20Christmas%20Sessions%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B0013DDPNC%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">Mercy Me</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00FMF7BPK/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00FMF7BPK&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=d48245ce058b23e26fc4e3fcdfe11f43%22%3EChristmas%20is%20Here%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B00FMF7BPK%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">Brandon Heath</a>, and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001GZQUKW/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B001GZQUKW&linkCode=as2&tag=shannonigan0b-20&linkId=29019b97a93f1c60693102e117c30a8f%22%3EPeace%20On%20Earth%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=shannonigan0b-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B001GZQUKW%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;" target="_blank">Casting Crowns</a>.<br /> 4. And, of course, we made a paper chain.<br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLpKsSJMWSQEa1od3MR2C4QfiDLlvUoWVq5IwVO4ukXqe563yvy0vO6xOHxj5GeqxZVSUdTF341e_V9BACMymKw7XzmFyAFwBO1PUrHB6puNG9bx1OwR0rDt1zJbeWtxalEMaEgZpABuo/s1600/2016+12+01+Both+Countdown+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLpKsSJMWSQEa1od3MR2C4QfiDLlvUoWVq5IwVO4ukXqe563yvy0vO6xOHxj5GeqxZVSUdTF341e_V9BACMymKw7XzmFyAFwBO1PUrHB6puNG9bx1OwR0rDt1zJbeWtxalEMaEgZpABuo/s400/2016+12+01+Both+Countdown+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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(Surprisingly good paper-chain makers.)</div>
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They get to rip off one chain each night, of course. We alternate. Brooklyn gets the red ones, Caden gets the green ones, because everything is all "Green my favorite. I love green, mommy." lately.</div>
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5 days down. 20 more to go.</div>
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We're not going to do everything this year. Or any year, really. But we can do some things. And this isn't <i>all</i> that we'll do. We made some Christmas cookies over the weekend. I can assure you that we'll make many more before the season is up. We'll play in the snow, read some Christmas stories, attend some parties. But are we going to cram in every community event, every Santa visit, every single holiday gathering we're invited to? Nope. And I'm fine with that. </div>
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We're having fun right here.</div>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308062373201090321noreply@blogger.com3