tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11664562834765925192024-02-06T22:16:55.725-06:00 House of Eight; Home of LoveThe life of a wife and mother of 6 active and inspiring kids!Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.comBlogger350125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-59955250562999170032016-07-24T22:19:00.000-05:002016-07-24T22:24:49.927-05:00CampThis afternoon, Monkey Toes and I dropped Gummi Bear off at camp. It is a 5 day Girls Discipleship Camp that is 74 miles away from home. For weeks, Gummi has been looking forward to this day. The hours didn't pass quickly enough today for Gummi, as she wandered around the house aimlessly, sighing heavily and moaning, "I still have soooo long to wait before we can go!" We left an hour earlier than we needed to, just to pacify the child a little. I mean, just look at that smile. How could she possibly contain all of that excitement?
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FINALLY we arrived!</div>
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We checked Gummi into her dorm and Monkey took a moment to say his goodbyes.</div>
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I was a bit of an emotional mess. I wasn't just leaving my girl for the next few days, I was leaving a piece of my heart behind, as well. I can't quite put my finger on it, for I know she's in great hands and will have a lovely experience. I wanted her to attend this camp as much as she wanted to go, but the moment we turned and walked our separate directions, my tears began to fall. I think it may be the realization that Gummi is not just getting older, but she is growing up into this amazing and beautiful person.</div>
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The theme for the camp is "Beloved" and it is directed by the Handmaids of the Heart of Jesus from New Ulm (some of our favorite sisters!). When she arrived, Gummi was given this tshirt:</div>
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My heart is at peace. Gummi will be exploring and discovering her worth as a Child of God and a Daughter of the King. As much as I love her, our Heavenly Father loves her more. She has been entrusted to Monkey and I, but ultimately, she belongs to God.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><i>"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" </i> 1John 3:1</span><br />
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<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-56026573741285254642016-03-27T20:20:00.000-05:002016-04-07T22:45:58.576-05:00Easter Sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>But God raised him up,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>having loosed the pangs of death,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>because it was not possible </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>for Him to be held by it.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i> Acts 2:24</i></span></div>
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<i>Easter Vigil</i></div>
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<i>Easter Sunday Morning</i></div>
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<i>Our traditional game of Balderdash....</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgtOXScqlDxZuGzxF7VfiW9GXpmYlBJXqN5z2t6PCKw6d4y-oMvySXoRtCx_hzevcp966QOURvBl0A2jbjXbBciojP9JtWsYSA0vYLJRtXcCjXBxzbuhRiss8p-dccOkjK6PCc-G94WVu/s640/blogger-image-1817156937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgtOXScqlDxZuGzxF7VfiW9GXpmYlBJXqN5z2t6PCKw6d4y-oMvySXoRtCx_hzevcp966QOURvBl0A2jbjXbBciojP9JtWsYSA0vYLJRtXcCjXBxzbuhRiss8p-dccOkjK6PCc-G94WVu/s400/blogger-image-1817156937.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>while the men sleep</i></div>
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<i>Annual Family Easter Picture</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Brothers and sisters: If then you were raised with Christ,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>seek what is above, where Christ is seated</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>at the right hand of God. Think of what is</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>above, not of what is on earth. For you have</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>When Christ your life appears, then you too will</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>appear with Him in glory.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i> Col 3:1-4</i></span></div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-34879524565442778612016-03-25T20:33:00.002-05:002016-03-25T20:33:34.680-05:00Good Friday<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>For God so loved the world that He gave His</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>only Son, so that everyone</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>who believes in Him might not perish</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>but might have eternal life.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i> John 3:16</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>He was despised and rejected by men;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>a man of sorrows, and acquainted</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>with grief...</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i> Isaiah 53:3</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Then Pilate took Jesus and had him scourged. And the soldiers wove a crown out of thorns and placed it on his head, and clothed him in a purple cloak, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>and they came to him and said,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Hail, King of the Jews!"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>And they struck him repeatedly.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> John 19:1-3</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Come now, let us set things right, says the Lord:</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Though your sins be like scarlet, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">they may become </span>white as snow; </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Though they be red like crimson, they may become</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>white as wool.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> Isaiah 1:18</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Pilate said to them, "The guard is yours; </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>go secure it as best</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>you can." So they went and secured the tomb</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>by fixing a seal to the stone and setting the guard.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> Matthew 27:65-66</i></span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The Sorrowful Mysteries</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Amen, amen, I say to you, you will weep and mourn, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>while the world rejoices; you will grieve, but your grief</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>will become joy. So you also are now in anguish. But I will</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>will take your joy away from you.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-66732469630566368222016-03-24T13:29:00.001-05:002016-03-24T13:29:16.325-05:00Holy Thursday<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Love one another as I have loved you</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i> John 13:34</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I am the Way and the Truth and the Life. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>No one comes to the Father except through Me.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i> John 14:6</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>I am the Bread of Life. He who comes to Me</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>shall never hunger, and he who believes</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>in Me shall never thirst.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i> John 6:35</i></span></div>
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Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-18981900444761900772016-01-25T10:39:00.000-06:002016-01-25T11:48:58.952-06:007 Quick Takes: Family Update: Christmas Letter Style<div style="text-align: left;">
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Pumpkin is in Kindergarten and LOVING every, single day of it. She is 6 1/2 years old (you all know how important that 1/2 year is at this age!). Her favorite days are when she is the helper at school and can bring a treat to share with her class. She likes to draw, color, jump rope and take coffee breaks (with a sweet treat, of course!). She is learning how to read, which is opening up a whole new level of independence for her. Pumpkin exudes happiness (and a bit of bossiness) and loves being the youngest!<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt2"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1166456283476592519#qt2" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 2 ---</a></strong></div>
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Sweet Pea is 7 years old and in 2nd grade. She will be making her First Reconciliation in two days, which she shared with me yesterday, "I want to be closer to Jesus." Bless her! She'll be making her First Communion in April. Sweet Pea loves to draw, color (especially in her new adult coloring book she received at Christmas) and craft. She is not much of a TV watcher, so she likes to be very active.She is in her first year of taking piano lessons and doing well. She still struggles with the loss of my Mom, but each day we try to work through that, sometimes with tears, but always with a prayer in our hearts. She still remains one of my best helpers around the house - always asking if she can lend a hand!<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt3"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1166456283476592519#qt3" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 3 ---</a></strong></div>
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Cucumber is 9 and is in 3rd grade. She takes both piano and bass guitar lessons, which she greatly enjoys both. She loves clothes (I'm blaming her God Mother for that!) and likes to play "fashion show" with her sisters, where she dresses them, helps them with hair and <strike>lip balm</strike> make-up. She makes friends easily and in the summer, can often be found playing football with the neighborhood boys. Cucumber remains our comic relief and is quite witty (we are working with her on when and where to appropriately use her wittiness!). <br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt4"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1166456283476592519#qt4" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 4 ---</a></strong></div>
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Gummi Bear is in 5th grade and is 10 years old. She ran Cross Country last fall and is currently playing basketball. She takes piano lessons and chose to play flute in the 5th grade band, which she absolutely loves. We have to actually tell her to stop practicing the flute some days, just so she can accomplish other tasks. She altar serves at church and is a school crossing guard. Gummi enjoys crafting, especially sewing, knitting and sketching. She is growing up fast, teetering on being a little girl and becoming a young lady (it's making her dad a little uncomfortable!). She is still a gentle and kind-hearted soul, who desires to help others. <br />
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Honey Bunches of Oats is 11 years old and in 6th grade. He plays both guitar and saxophone. Last summer he placed first in his age group at our local county fair talent competition, singing and playing guitar. He went on to compete at the Minnesota State Fair. He didn't place, but he loved the experience. Honey Bunches also ran Cross Country this past fall and is currently playing basketball, which has become yet another passion for him. <br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt6"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1166456283476592519#qt6" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 6 ---</a></strong></div>
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Sweet Potato is a teenager. Yikes! He's 13, in 7th grade, and loves to be involved with just about everything. He plays basketball, is a Student Council member, participated in Knowledge Bowl, placed in the school Geography Bee, altar serves, takes piano lessons, plays the trumpet and attended our diocesan Boys Discipleship Camp. He's passionate about sports and statistics. Despite being outgoing, his favorite activity remains being at home on a Sunday, watching football and being surrounded by his family, good food, and hanging out with his cousins.<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt7"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1166456283476592519#qt7" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 7 ---</a></strong></div>
Life is busy with six, active Love Bugs. I have realized, however, that when we keep our priorities in check (God, family, work/school), racing around with the kids isn't so daunting of a task, nor is it something I resent. With that being said, we also rely on much help from others. If it weren't for family or teammates parents who are ever so willing to open up their homes or provide a ride when needed, we wouldn't be able to do all that we do. We are ever so grateful and extremely blessed for the many helping hands. <br />
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<i>"The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord." Psalm 33:5</i></blockquote>
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For more Quick Takes, visit <a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/">Conversion Diary!</a></div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-68145574117564377062015-12-30T08:55:00.000-06:002015-12-30T08:55:59.271-06:00Traditions<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
The lights on the Christmas tree twinkle through the dozens of small, glitter-filled ornaments, each in their own way representing something special to someone. We were going to be selective in which ones we chose to hang this year, because of the sheer volume of ornaments each Love Bug claims. But when the time came to decorate, out flowed memories, stories and love that it was just too difficult to be selective. Thus many of the branches are burdened by multiple ornaments. As I gaze upon this tree which the Love Bugs have declared is "the most beautiful tree we have ever had" (it is the same artificial tree we have put up for the last 10 years), it is representative of what is swirling around in my head and heart, made evident especially during this time of year. As we attempt to live and celebrate within the absence of our Loved ones, we still cling to the ways in which we know - our traditions. They unite us to our past and draw us close within the present. They are often the foundation of the stories that get re-told over time, and no matter how often one hears them, we never tire of them. </div>
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<b>Our Jesse Tree</b></div>
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About 4 years ago, we decided to incorporate a Jesse Tree into our family prayer during the season of Advent. The symbol of the Jesse Tree comes from Isaiah 11: <i>"The royal line of David is like a tree that has been cut down; but just as new branches sprout from a stump, so a new king will arise from among David's descendants." </i>The tree is named after Jesse, the father of the great King David. Beginning with the Creation story, and each night thereafter, we read from scripture and hung an ornament which represents a person or event in salvation history. By reflecting on salvation history, we see how God prepared the world for the coming of His Son.</div>
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In addition to our Jesse Tree, we also lit our Advent Wreath during meal time and continued with adding straw to Jesus' manger for good works completed each day. I thought maybe the older kids would have found the straw activity to be a bit "young", but they looked forward to adding their straw each day, helping to prepare a bed for the Baby Jesus.</div>
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I have said it before and I will say it again, I love Advent. I love that the Church has this time of preparation and reflection. I love how our faith teaches us that Christmas has little to do with decorations and holiday prepping, and everything to do with preparing our hearts. In this ridiculously fasted paced, secularized world we live in, we need more of the latter. </div>
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As the world around us was asking, "are you ready for Christmas?", really inquiring if our tree was erected, cookies baked and cards sent, my answer, truthfully, was twofold. No, according to the world, we were not ready for Christmas. Liturgically, however, we were a work in progress. Our family focused on reflecting on salvation history and trying to do more good works. We celebrated the Sacrament of Reconciliation. We celebrated each Sunday of Advent, especially Gaudette Sunday with great joy. We didn't skip Advent, we tried to live it. Trust me, it wasn't always easy.</div>
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<b>Our Christmas Tradition</b></div>
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The Christmas season began on Christmas Eve and will continue through the Baptism of our Lord - the first Sunday after Epiphany. We put our tree up and decorated it on Christmas Eve morning. It will stay up the duration of the season, as will our Jesse Tree, a reminder of where we have come from, pointing us in the direction of where we hope to go. Now that Jesus has come, our lives will hopefully be a reflection of who He is: Wisdom, Lord of Israel, Flower of Jesse, Key of David, Radiant Dawn, King of the Gentiles, Emmanuel - God with us. It is not enough to just celebrate these traditions, but to embrace and live them, not only during the Christmas season, but throughout all time.</div>
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May this season be one filled with Hope, Peace, Joy and Love. Merry Christmas! </div>
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<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-44048741833802992332015-09-22T17:13:00.001-05:002015-09-22T21:14:09.934-05:00StorytellingToday marks the last day of summer 2015. Our family had a great summer. Actually, not just great, but I would dare to say exceptional. So many times I considered sitting down and recording our experiences, but I wanted to hold these memories close - just keep them for myself. I considered that by sharing our happenings, they would somehow be tarnished. I'm not sure why I felt that way, but I was intentional in choosing not to post these last three months.<br>
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And then this conversation happened.<br>
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My girls and I were sitting in our living room one afternoon. Cucumber asked, "Do you remember when Grandma Char use to make us buttered toast and hot chocolate?" Gummi Bear added, "Grandma said it tasted best when it was white bread, dunked in the hot chocolate." Sweet Pea shared, "She would give that to us on really cold days. I miss her."<br>
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At this point, Pumpkin began to cry. I held her on my lap and asked what was wrong. She said, "I'm forgetting Grandma and all the stuff she teached me."<br>
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These words hurt and my heart broke.<br>
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When I began this blog back in 2011, I was very uncertain of the direction it would take. I had just resigned from working in parish ministry and was deeply searching for a creative outlet. Writing about my family and sharing adventures proved to be very satisfying to me. Pretty soon the stories were coupled with a little advice and many lessons learned. I began to look at this blog as a letter to my children; something that they could later in life read as a journal and hopefully discover the "good" intentions of their mom and dad to raise them with integrity and morality. And now, in this place, at this moment, I am reaffirmed to continue to tell the stories of our life, characterized by the ones who raised us and passed on their legacy. I want my children to know and love their Grandparents and all those loved ones who have passed from this earth, if only through the telling of their stories. It is these stories that connect us through generations and across miles. The ones that unite us as family.<br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My dear friend Mary gave me "The Storyteller; Singing Mother" from her travels to the Southwest. She said she thought of me when she found it, as there are six babies in her arms and on her lap.</span></td></tr>
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We have some wonderful storytellers in our family. My brother has a gift for telling stories, especially from what he refers to as "the good ole days." He recalls growing up on the farm, all the hard work involved and memories of neighbors that would pull together as family in any number of situations. <br>
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The Love Bugs enjoy listening to Monkey's side of the family, especially the uncles, tell stories of growing up in a large family and being raised in a small house. One can't help but smile at the enthusiasm for which these memories are told.<br>
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Storytelling: an integral part of life and rich in tradition. It is a way of passing on life's wisdom, from generation to generation. <br>
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Tonight, turn off the screens, sit together and share stories. Let's reconnect with who we are. Blessings to you all!</div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-20673599836346596192015-05-19T16:43:00.000-05:002015-05-19T18:37:01.691-05:00Gummi Bear's Birthday<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Gummi Bear's Stats</b>
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<b>Birthday:</b> May 16</div>
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<b>Age:</b> 10</div>
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<b>Birth Order: </b> Third</div>
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<b>Grade: </b> 4</div>
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<b>Favorites</b></div>
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<b>Color: </b>Pink</div>
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<b>Food: </b>Ice Cream</div>
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<b>Subject: </b>Art</div>
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<b>Book: </b>Winne Dixie</div>
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<b>Game: </b>Uno</div>
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<b>Holiday: </b>Easter</div>
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<b>Season: </b>Summer</div>
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<b>Past Time: </b>Reading</div>
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<b>Singer: </b>Toby Mac</div>
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<b>Prayer: </b>Prayer to St. Michael</div>
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<b>What she wants to be when she grows up: </b>A Ballerina</div>
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<b><i>A Note to Gummi Bear</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Written by Sweet Pea</i></b></div>
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Gummi, you are my sister and I like you because you jump rope with me and because you do my hair. I will love you forever because you are my sister.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chicken Enchiladas and Rice was Gummi's dinner of choice on her actual birthday.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">S'mores Ice Cream Sandwiches for dessert</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Heading out for their Dad/Daughter Date.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dinner at Applebees</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Paint Factory</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sparkling Sea Turtles</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Home for Ice-cream cake with family</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Gummi received French Toast Cereal, Widgets, her name to paint/decorate, modeling clay, pens, headbands, an ITunes gift card, and cash. She also had two shopping outings with two different aunts, and another aunt who brought her to see Mary Poppins at a dinner theater.</span></td></tr>
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Gummi is a sweet child. She is at an interesting place in life; still a little girl, but teetering at a point of more independence. She loves crafts and desires to learn how to sew, knit, cross-stitch, and crochet (unfortunately I do not possess these skills). She enjoys being outdoors, riding her bike, playing jump rope, and going to the park. Gummi has a heart of compassion and likes to help others. She enjoys school and considers all of her classmates friends. She loves Jesus and often asks for us to pray for those in need. She is a take-charge person at home, and I know I can depend on her to run things when I need help. Gummi is beautiful, inside and out.<br />
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I love you Gummi! I am proud to be your Mom. Happy Birthday. Love you always!<br />
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Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-13173994813905149182015-05-12T11:20:00.002-05:002015-05-12T16:10:02.364-05:00A Toilet Paper Love StoryToday, Monkey and I celebrate 14 years of marriage.<br />
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A few weeks ago, some friends and I were gathered for coffee. We began to share how we met our husbands and of our marriage proposals. As I was telling my story, one of my friends commented on how she was surprised that Monkey and I had so many ups and downs in the beginning of our relationship. Truth be told, Monkey and I do not have one of those love stories that can be wrapped up neatly and tied with a pretty bow. It wasn't a "love at first sight" type of tale to tell. It wasn't a "at the end of our first date we knew we were going to be together forever" story. The early part of our relationship wasn't pretty. It is a story of two young, immature kids who really liked to spend time together, but really stunk at dating. It was a 10 year period from when we went on our first date until the day we were married. Yes, we have been a couple, for more or less, 24 years. <br />
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The year was 2000 and I was renting an apartment by myself in the Twin Cities. I had invited Monkey over for dinner one evening. Before he came, he called to see if I needed anything. I was out of toilet paper, so I asked if he could pick some up. When he arrived, he had two big packages of toilet paper tucked under each arm. Without having to ask, he purchased the brand that I liked. I remember making the comment, "you even bought the kind that I use," to which he replied, "Of course I did. I pay attention." <br />
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It might be hard to believe, but at that moment, I knew we had a future together. <br />
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You see, I began to reflect on all the times Monkey had paid attention. Like when we were talking about our favorite childhood toys. I shared that I had always wanted Lego's when I was kid, but I was never given them. Weeks later, a small package arrived in my mailbox from Monkey, containing a Lego's set. Or the time he overheard a conversation I was having with a friend about how I like to sit through all of the credits at the end of a movie. He has never rushed me out of a theater since. Then there was the time I had complained about never receiving any "fun" mail (you know, that time before e-mail and the Internet), and then for 7 days in a row, I received a hand written letter from Monkey. The most meaningful gift he has ever given me (but it has never been mine to claim), was when I told him that I could only marry a man who knew and loved Jesus, and could share my faith with me. In 2000, Monkey was welcomed into full communion with the Church at the Easter Vigil. He, nor us, have ever been the same since that night.<br />
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In our married life, he has learned that a piece of chocolate can remedy almost any woe of mine. He knows my favorite wine, my favorite candy bar, my favorite movie, and when I just need a few hours to myself he graciously takes the kids for an afternoon. He understands that there are times when I just need to hang out with my sisters. He has accepted and never complained about my "I do not cook on Sundays" rule. <br />
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If there is any wisdom I can impart to my children from our love saga, it is that God's timing is not always our timing. When we are open to His will and guidance in our lives, things have a beautiful way of working out. I recently read the quote, "when things seem to be falling apart, they may just be falling into place." And so it was with Monkey and I. In God's time, we found our partner for life in each other. In God's time, our relationship became a blessed experience. In God's time, our story made sense. In God's time, we said our vows to one another; "I take you to be my spouse. I promise to be true to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you, and I will honor you, all the days of my life." "Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity." In God's time, we found us.<br />
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So does Monkey have me all figured out? Naw. I don't even have myself figured out. But he continues to learn and to try. Years ago, I learned from a priest that true love in a marriage is to help your spouse get to Heaven. The path is not always easy, but I am thankful and blessed that I have Monkey to walk this journey with me.<br />
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Happy Anniversary Monkey! I love you!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dating</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The night we announced our engagement.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">May 12, 2001</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Adventure in Chicago</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Monkey's Class Reunion</span></td></tr>
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Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-24080103540597268262015-05-09T22:09:00.000-05:002015-05-09T22:09:22.993-05:00Tribute<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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To the women who have raised me, loved me, influenced me and greatly inspired me; to the women whom I have been honored to call Mom, Grandma, Great-Grandma; for the love, joy and faith you have shared with me; I love you and I thank you. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Grandma Frances</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Grandma Elodie</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Great Grandma Isabel</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Monkey Toe's Mom</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My Mom</span></td></tr>
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Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-51312638088310220912015-05-05T11:48:00.004-05:002015-05-05T11:48:48.271-05:00Cucumber's First CommunionOn April 19, 2015, Monkey Toes and I brought our fourth child, Cucumber, to the Table of the Lord. It was here that Cucumber welcomed Jesus into her heart and received Him for the first time in the Eucharist. It was the first of a life-time of opportunities that she will renew her commitment and love for Jesus each and every time she participates in the Liturgy. It is the greatest gift in our faith, and in our life, that we can offer her.<br />
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<b>First Eucharist Rehearsal and Scapular Investiture</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-yW8HqQv_O_i1jksr5UsIUO0ucH5ESmX_In5mOkSBV5w6skBPWRc8wBZYvf7_q66UAkFkDBENX7is1Ox201g8p3-pyjW8fEAVcSf_Q7i2NF6MMp4IWVLRiF4WcNxJ5itof0k-CIiKSrx/s640/blogger-image--2061463649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-yW8HqQv_O_i1jksr5UsIUO0ucH5ESmX_In5mOkSBV5w6skBPWRc8wBZYvf7_q66UAkFkDBENX7is1Ox201g8p3-pyjW8fEAVcSf_Q7i2NF6MMp4IWVLRiF4WcNxJ5itof0k-CIiKSrx/s640/blogger-image--2061463649.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">Receive this Scapular. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">Full of faith in the love of such a great Mother, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">dedicate yourself to imitating her and to a special relationship with her.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHVMaDOWGc-S4MrEF3sEQJoDHkyhqbzl9rbYzey6oJSwhDJ9wbGabf9gCwb-5jKkP45wkz6SQxg0POVXEzH2XVxg0b4hw1zrfSqiKKZAqC36wv083GAbjKEGMDDfQCuvqjhOBPmbeycfq/s640/blogger-image-1414269761.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHVMaDOWGc-S4MrEF3sEQJoDHkyhqbzl9rbYzey6oJSwhDJ9wbGabf9gCwb-5jKkP45wkz6SQxg0POVXEzH2XVxg0b4hw1zrfSqiKKZAqC36wv083GAbjKEGMDDfQCuvqjhOBPmbeycfq/s640/blogger-image-1414269761.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">Wear this sign as a reminder of the presence of Mary in your daily commitment to be clothed in Jesus Christ </span><span style="font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">and to manifest him in your life for the good of the Church and the whole of humanity, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">and to the glory of the Most Blessed Trinity. Amen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Open Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><b>Reception Preparation</b></span></span></div>
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<b>First Communion Sunday</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cucumber's Godparents</span></td></tr>
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First Communion is such a glorious and significant celebration in our faith life and in our family. There is great anticipation as each of our children have begun their preparation to receive this sacrament. The Mass was nothing short than beautiful. With the first note sung in the Liturgy, I had tears welling up in my eyes. There was a radiance within each Communicant that was visible to all.</div>
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As Monkey Toes, Cucumber's Godparents and I surrounded her as she received the Eucharist, I think it is safe to say that we were all overcome with emotion. I held it together until we made our way back to the pew, then Cucumber wrapped her arms around my waist and whispered in my ear, "I am so happy." </div>
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And then the tears fell and I could not stop them.</div>
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We returned home to a houseful of friends and family who celebrated late into the evening with us. It was a joyous occasion; one that Cucumber will hold in her heart forever.</div>
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<b>Anima Christi</b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Soul of Christ, sanctify me.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Body of Christ, save me.</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Blood of Christ, inebriate me.</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Water from the side of Christ, wash me.</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Passion of Christ, strengthen me.</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">O Good Jesus, hear me.</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Within your wounds hide me.</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Permit me not to be separated from you.</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">From the wicked foe, defend me.</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">At the hour of my death, call me</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">and bid me come to you</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">That with your saints I may praise you</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">For ever and ever. Amen.</span></div>
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Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-90521636801823076792015-03-22T18:08:00.000-05:002015-03-22T18:08:46.172-05:00Confessions from "One of Those Parents"The alarm clock sounds at an early hour on a Saturday morning. It's cold and dark and a part of me wants to bury myself deep in the blankets and drift back to sleep. I hit the snooze button once and claim just a few more minutes of peacefulness. The alarm sounds a second time and I know we must all arise.<br />
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I get out of bed and begin the Saturday morning routine. I pull on my maroon and gold and tie my tennis shoes. I start the coffee pot and rouse the troops. Quickly the kitchen fills with activity as kids grab breakfast and hurriedly making cold lunches, grabbing snacks and packing an activity bag for the youngest Love Bugs. We double check schedules and ensure we all know the plan for the day. <br />
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We depart, miraculously on time, and head to our destination. We arrive with our brood and all of our bags. With a hot cup of coffee in hand, we enter our home for the next few hours (and in some cases, the day). I can smell the freshly polished floors. I hear the squeak of shoes, the echo of balls being dribbled and the occasional "swoosh" of the net. This environment awakens a passion within me and I am now wide awake and excited for the day ahead.<br />
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We have 3 kids on 3 different teams with 3 different schedules. We have had to rely on family and friends to assist us with this season. Monkey and I divide our time the best we can among the 3. This is basketball and this is our life for 4 months.<br />
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I can honestly say, that just a few short years ago, if you would have described this scenario to me and said this would be my life, I would have scoffed and said, "no way." Monkey and I knew families who did this and we thought it was ridiculous. We even agreed that our kids would not participate in organized athletics at least until 7th grade. Those parents who ran their kids all over creation were, for lack of a better word(s), nuts. Crazy. Loco.<br />
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I cannot pinpoint the exact moment when we considered allowing our children to participate in organized sports. I cannot tell you the exact time when Monkey and I said, "okay, let's sign them up." What I do know, is that it was not an easy nor quick decision for us, nor has this decision come free from guilt.<br />
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<b>How I Sleep At Night</b><br />
<i>Disclosure: I am fully aware that the following is a list of justifications. </i><br />
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1. Mass is our first and foremost priority of the week. If anything conflicts with Mass attendance, then IT will lose out. We will never choose basketball (or any other activity for that matter) over our faith.<br />
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2. Family trumps all extra-curricular activities. If we have a family commitment; a birthday party, a special dinner, etc., we will choose the family activity. Hands down. The kids missed a handful of practices this past season due to family gatherings.<br />
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3. School trumps all extra-curricular activities. If homework is not completed, there is no practice or games. If grades begin to fall, there will be no basketball (kinda catchy and a little corny, but very effective).<br />
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4. Music trumps basketball. We have kids who play piano, guitar, sax, and trumpet. Lessons, concerts and recitals take precedent. We did some rearranging of lesson schedules to permit basketball practice, but if that was not an option, then basketball would have been reconsidered. Music is a life-long gift.<br />
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5. Since there are some sacrifices involved for the entire family in allowing a few to play basketball, those few had to make some sacrifices as well; for example, giving in to the little Love Bugs in any number of situations (choosing games to play, giving them control of the remote, reading to them and helping them with their homework, etc.).<br />
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6. Our winters in Minnesota are long and cold. We are not outdoor winter enthusiasts. Basketball gave the kids an outlet for their energy and an opportunity to exercise.<br />
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7. The kids love to play basketball.<br />
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Even with our priorities intact, there were times when I felt guilty for doing something I was convinced we would never do. I would even ask Monkey Toes the question, "are we ruining our kids?," to which he would jovially respond, "I don't think we can mess them up anymore than they already are."<br />
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So here's my confession.<br />
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I love this game. I have loved it from the earliest of times when my parents would drag me to the gym to watch my older sisters practice and play. I loved it when my Dad would take me out to the driveway and feed me balls and then would show me some of his "moves", in particular his hook shot. I loved that I always had at least one fan in the crowd cheering me on (usually my Mom and Dad and least one of my sisters - they never missed a game my senior year in high school). I loved playing and being a part of a team; contributing to something greater than myself. I love the lessons I learned at home, which were reinforced on the court; commitment, discipline, hard work, good sportsmanship, and good character. I love that I can share these same qualities with my own children.<br />
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We have turned into the parents we swore we would never become. We are a basketball family.<br />
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<em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px;"><br /></em>
<em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px;">“Not only is there more to life than basketball, there’s a lot more to basketball than basketball”</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px;"> – Phil Jackson</span><br />
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<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-17749782418739703532015-03-10T16:30:00.000-05:002015-03-17T21:48:59.734-05:00PerspectiveSweet Potato, my 12 year old, came barreling out of the bathroom this morning shouting, <i>"this is one of the worst weeks of my life!"</i><br />
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<b>Me: </b> <i>Sweetie, you realize it is only Tuesday.</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato:</b> <i>Ugh!</i><br />
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After inquiring the problem, Sweet Potato says that for starters, he had a cold shower because Honey Bunches used up all the hot water.<br />
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<b>Me</b>: <i>I know it's hard to do, but why don't you offer it up?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato: </b><i>I don't know how to do that.</i><br />
<b>Me:</b> <i>Well, first think of all the people in this world who don't have clean water, let alone a warm shower to take. Be grateful that you have the resources to keep your body clean and healthy. Then, you say a prayer and tell Jesus that you're offering this small suffering up to him for all those who don't have this luxury.</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato: </b> <i>Well that's not the only thing that is making this a bad week.</i><br />
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He then shared with me that he scored very low on one of his tests. It happened to be in Religion.<br />
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<b>Sweet Potato:</b> <i>The questions weren't even fair. I bet you couldn't even get them right.</i><br />
<b>Me:</b> <i>So did you ask your teacher to explain the answers to you?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato:</b> <i>No.</i><br />
<b>Me:</b> <i>So how did the rest of your class do on the test?</i><br />
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Hanging his head, Sweet Potato answered, <i>"I scored the lowest in the class."</i><br />
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<b>Me:</b> <i>Have you ever failed a test?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato:</b> <i>No.</i><br />
<b>Me:</b> <i>Would you say that you're embarrassed by your score?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato: </b> <i>Yes.</i><br />
<b>Me:</b> <i>Do you think it's fair to blame your teacher on something you didn't understand?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato:</b> <i>No.</i><br />
<b>Me:</b> <i>Do you really think the test and its questions were unfair?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato: </b> <i>No.</i><br />
<b>Me: </b> <i>Sweet Potato, you are a smart kid. Your Dad and I don't expect you to get perfect scores. In this situation, your score isn't the issue as much as the way you're choosing to deal with it. Never place blame on someone or something else, when you need to take responsibility for your part.</i><br />
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<b>Sweet Potato:</b> <i>I'm mad at one of my friends too because he wanted to talk to me when I didn't want to talk.</i><br />
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This poor kid really is having a bad week!<br />
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<b>Me:</b> <i>And why didn't you want to talk?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato:</b> <i>Because my team got annihilated at recess during our football game.</i><br />
<b>Me:</b> <i>So did you tell your friend you were in a bad mood and you would talk to him later?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato:</b> <i>No.</i><br />
<b>Me: </b> <i>Do you think your friend was just concerned about you and wanted to help?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato: </b> <i>Maybe.</i><br />
<b>Me:</b> <i>Should we call it a day and just go back to bed?</i><br />
<b>Sweet Potato:</b> (With a little smile on his face) <i>No.</i><br />
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Part of being a parent is to help our kids keep life in perspective. Their problems may seem like "no big deal" to us, but to them, they look daunting and impossible. As easy as it was for me to give quick solutions to Sweet Potato, I don't always heed my own advice.<br />
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This Lenten season has been one of a struggle for me. It has nothing to do with my penance and alms giving, but prayerfully, some of the days have been more difficult than others. My mind just doesn't shut off during times that I am desiring reflection and quiet. There are some outside challenges in my life too, that I rely on friends and family to help me see the bigger picture. Along with that perspective often comes a very scary reality of <b>surrender</b>; to be able to let go and let be. It means giving up control and stepping aside to allow others, allow God, to take over. It means exposing my vulnerability and reliance on others and on God. Not being in control means having faith.<br />
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These 40 days have me working on surrender; in looking at the bigger picture and not doing <b>my</b> will, but rather God's will for my life. It has less to do with the small sacrifices I attempt to make and more about growing closer to Christ on this journey.<br />
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I continue to keep my Gratitude journal which, in our priest's words, has kept "my heart buoyant." At the end of each day I can't help but smile about the things my kids and my husband say and do, or the kind deeds shown my way. It certainly helps me keep life in perspective. <br />
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If you set your heart aright</div>
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and stretch out your hands toward him,</div>
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If iniquity is in your hand, remove it,</div>
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and do not let injustice dwell in your tent,</div>
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Surely then you may lift up your face in innocence;</div>
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you may stand firm and unafraid.</div>
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For then you shall forget your misery,</div>
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like water that has ebbed away you shall regard it.</div>
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Then your life shall be brighter than the noonday;</div>
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its gloom shall become like the morning,</div>
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And you shall be secure, because there is hope;</div>
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you shall look round you and lie down in safety;</div>
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you shall lie down and no one will disturb you.</div>
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Many shall entreat your favor,</div>
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but the wicked, looking on, shall be consumed with envy.</div>
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Escape shall be cut off from them,</div>
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their only hope their last breath.</div>
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Job 11:13-20 </div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-39484326163801007062015-03-03T15:08:00.000-06:002015-03-03T15:08:54.234-06:00Honey Bunches Birthday<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Honey's Stats</b></div>
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<b>Birthday: </b>February 6</div>
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<b>Age: </b>11</div>
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<b>Birth Order: </b>Second</div>
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<b>Grade: </b>Fifth</div>
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<b><i>Favorites</i></b></div>
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<b>Color: </b>Red</div>
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<b>Food: </b>Pizza</div>
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<b>Sport: </b>Basketball</div>
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<b>Subject: </b>Art</div>
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<b>Book: </b>Hunger Games</div>
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<b>Game: </b>Master Mind and Rubik's Cube</div>
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<b>Holiday: </b>Easter</div>
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<b>Season: </b>Summer</div>
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<b>Instrument: </b>Guitar</div>
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<b>Activity: </b>Neighborhood pick-up Football Game</div>
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<b>Prayer: </b>The Lord's Prayer</div>
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<i><b>Honey Bunches Bio</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Written by Sweet Potato</b></i></div>
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Honey Bunches is my younger brother by exactly 17 months. He is a good brother. Sometimes he gets into trouble, but he still helps my sisters and me with chores. He enjoys playing video games, card games and basketball. He likes reading books like the Hunger Games and The Lord of the Rings. He loves playing his guitar and saxophone. He enjoys playing football with me and our neighbor. Honey Bunches is an awesome brother!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Heading out for our date.</span></td></tr>
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Honey Bunches cashed in one of his Mother/Son Date coupons on his birthday. He wanted to go out to eat at his favorite restaurant - Buffalo Wild Wings, and go to a movie of his choice - Sponge Bob Sponge Out of Water.</div>
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The restaurant was very busy, so we were seated in the bar area. Midway through our dinner, the bartender came over with a microphone and announced that it was Honey's birthday. Everyone sang Happy Birthday to him, including a rowdy table of 40 somethings sitting next to us who whooped and hollered. Honey was slightly embarrassed.</div>
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The following day, we had ice cream cake with our family and Honey opened his gifts.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJq8lmRGHjHgwel63OkhYOG16_tFryB-e2fpi_X7u2YcdbE0Cp4lmYpcIR7qNrJ-yzfQNSsOwTAz-ZMmbmRQ9w94HDIisEKlz71GgnFr2Tg-_IkFWOZDarMigWkzr2CHpzLA3nC0g-jn0Y/s1600/blogger-image--1412464336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJq8lmRGHjHgwel63OkhYOG16_tFryB-e2fpi_X7u2YcdbE0Cp4lmYpcIR7qNrJ-yzfQNSsOwTAz-ZMmbmRQ9w94HDIisEKlz71GgnFr2Tg-_IkFWOZDarMigWkzr2CHpzLA3nC0g-jn0Y/s1600/blogger-image--1412464336.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOinCENz_Qsea9MXgo6kFLd9JiP8EygApk9EA_MXIgzzblOtMlwN7tnBga4rJx5Ox6QZ2ZnratsLN5qNo1slLd5xfOSJE7zpZnCNrj47wA9CXPriDd8bNhOvC0uB-h4xCzwH9dAWqQm0m/s1600/blogger-image-657874998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOinCENz_Qsea9MXgo6kFLd9JiP8EygApk9EA_MXIgzzblOtMlwN7tnBga4rJx5Ox6QZ2ZnratsLN5qNo1slLd5xfOSJE7zpZnCNrj47wA9CXPriDd8bNhOvC0uB-h4xCzwH9dAWqQm0m/s1600/blogger-image-657874998.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Gifts included a Rubik's Cube, the game Master Mind, a swim shirt, a Mind Craft shirt, cereal, cash and a stuffed animal (given by Pumpkin)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAFwgD2CdhsgxHFnODNHHdx7zvjon-M61rPxy0jkLxG_UQg1CTuf-YpZK3HvwtSqwg7ZCuDyBBY6aRp95kSEi9cfhYBWAFXpWLk7RpXblnL7LPqZuQG1Mkh7dKN9qdIOWoloX02Xwb4k2R/s1600/blogger-image--922592121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAFwgD2CdhsgxHFnODNHHdx7zvjon-M61rPxy0jkLxG_UQg1CTuf-YpZK3HvwtSqwg7ZCuDyBBY6aRp95kSEi9cfhYBWAFXpWLk7RpXblnL7LPqZuQG1Mkh7dKN9qdIOWoloX02Xwb4k2R/s1600/blogger-image--922592121.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">He also received this cookie bouquet from his Nina & Nino.</span></td></tr>
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Due to travel schedules and basketball schedules, we decided to wait until the end of the month to celebrate with family and then also include his cousin Peanut Butter, whose birthday is 2 days before Honey's. We went snow tubing at a semi-local ski hill. </div>
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It. Was. Awesome. </div>
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The adults had just as much fun as the kids. </div>
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Unfortunately, we have no pictures of anyone tubing. Both Monkey and I left our phones/cameras in the warming house. Here is a picture of a few of the boys, enjoying hot chocolate while they warm up their cheeks and toes.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBPCX2LOBl92mKtW_d-j81-Pwf5OVQ7JgCvEFDm0fC4x3B7OZ7txtPdByK2Ca7jWR9GdzwqcQWOCvdzGuIoH26uzuNI2nL3qOBIum4dZ0JDyGxJm2gef5mDH4PFhB37bwv_UjWP4VQTkP/s1600/blogger-image--2042107763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBPCX2LOBl92mKtW_d-j81-Pwf5OVQ7JgCvEFDm0fC4x3B7OZ7txtPdByK2Ca7jWR9GdzwqcQWOCvdzGuIoH26uzuNI2nL3qOBIum4dZ0JDyGxJm2gef5mDH4PFhB37bwv_UjWP4VQTkP/s1600/blogger-image--2042107763.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Afterwards, we had pizza and cake.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6FyNee7B3snUCNrSOtFqXlgw_r5rViqnkTuaj91RoaTTwgxEmjZmehhozFhQW2w4YukVLDZ2yl-EUWpMpaIqv7bf2Y0jlsmQWeP2uSaGwXkoG46HQ20snxfJ8DtqzgZKdFaFI6meyfrE/s1600/blogger-image--122872852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6FyNee7B3snUCNrSOtFqXlgw_r5rViqnkTuaj91RoaTTwgxEmjZmehhozFhQW2w4YukVLDZ2yl-EUWpMpaIqv7bf2Y0jlsmQWeP2uSaGwXkoG46HQ20snxfJ8DtqzgZKdFaFI6meyfrE/s1600/blogger-image--122872852.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgPj55Y0H6l6-6p3L5agztSD2meT9JGxJJCKOhEfOdyDQHCV9T5mL_rgweTYwCv1M2BvSPYPM4Rk7uIHMCPbYM0fl3EisLfVFCl5PO0RwkmrEJomtEkLcYFZHdqPNSfPGF581PECS2TaY/s1600/blogger-image--10693735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjgPj55Y0H6l6-6p3L5agztSD2meT9JGxJJCKOhEfOdyDQHCV9T5mL_rgweTYwCv1M2BvSPYPM4Rk7uIHMCPbYM0fl3EisLfVFCl5PO0RwkmrEJomtEkLcYFZHdqPNSfPGF581PECS2TaY/s1600/blogger-image--10693735.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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As Sweet Potato stated above, Honey is a great brother. He does get annoyed by his sisters, but he still reads to them and helps them clean their room when asked. He loves being outside (more so when the weather is nice) and riding his bike and playing football. He could spend an entire day playing video games if we allowed it. He is pretty social at school, but he does enjoy alone time with his guitar and Lego's when at home. There are times when Honey challenges every ounce of patience in me, but at the end of the day, he will still give me a hug and say "I love you." </div>
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Happy 11th Birthday Honey Bunches! Always know how much I admire your gifts and talents. They help to make you who you are and whom God created you to be. Share them generously with others. I love you forever!</div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-59377899297149371462015-02-02T07:05:00.000-06:002015-02-02T09:36:16.007-06:00Cucumber's Birthday<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Cucumber's Stats</b>
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<b>Birthday: </b>January 10</div>
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<b>Birth Order: </b>Child #4</div>
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<b>Grade: </b>2</div>
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<b>Favorite Color: </b>Green</div>
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<b>Favorite Music/Musician: </b>Her brother Honey Bunches</div>
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<b>Favorite Season: </b>Summer</div>
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<b>Favorite Holiday: </b>Independence Day</div>
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<b>Favorite Subject in School: </b>Religion</div>
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<b>Favorite T.V. Show: </b>Master Chef Junior</div>
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<b>What She Wants to be When She Grows Up: </b>An Athlete and a Musician</div>
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<b>Cucumber's Bio</b></div>
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<b><i>written by her sister, Gummi Bear</i></b></div>
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Cucumber is 8 years old and loves fashion and sparkle. She is a good sister and friend. I am glad to be her sister. Cucumber loves to dance and sing. Almost everyday she makes me laugh and then I can't stop. She likes to make crafts, read, and write stories. She has a lot of drama in her and she loves to mess around. Cucumber is very fun to play with and makes up good games to play. Everybody loves Cucumber and Cucumber loves everybody.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The morning of her Birthday</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A surprise knocking at the door for Cucumber</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Her Nina, all the way from California!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">In complete shock</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Birthday Gifts: A journal, her name in sparkly letters, a backpack, lots of clothes, crafts, Precious Moments figurine, money, sugar cereal, a ream of paper, and a bass guitar.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Her Godparents</span></td></tr>
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Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-79263806164722813212014-12-11T12:03:00.003-06:002014-12-11T22:56:53.278-06:00The Work of HandsOur family was at Mass. Pumpkin, our youngest, was seated next to me. As Father shared the homily, Pumpkin reached over and grabbed my hand. She began to trace my fingers with hers and then ever-so-gently turned my hand over and followed the lines on my palm with her fingertips. I remember doing the same thing to my Mom when I was a little girl. I wondered when I would be big enough that my hand could match hers in size. My hand always felt so small in hers, and even more so when holding my Dad's hand. <br />
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My Dad joined mine and Monkey's hands on our wedding day. Overcome with emotion for the Sacrament and being surrounded by those we love, tears began to fall from my eyes. Monkey caressed my cheek and wiped the tears away with his hand.<br />
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With each of our babies, I remember their beautiful little fists tightly gripping my finger. When they would sleep, their hand would relax and I would hold it open and trace the palm, dreaming of what this small little hand could and would do one day. I would lay their hand in mine and wonder how long it would be until our hands would be the same size.<br />
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The eyes may be the window to the soul, but our hands help to tell our story.</div>
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We work with them. We serve with them. We love with them. We protect with them. We discipline with them. We teach with them. We create with them. We pray with them.</div>
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When my child is scared or anxious, I hold his hand. And sometimes, it is he who holds mine.</div>
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Our hands help us to work; one way of honoring our human dignity.</div>
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We are called to use our hands to love and serve.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja3-yPr8iD3lTppgkjTvAj62pJc_0eE-B7_TPA-NKIQeslI4c4D1sXxkkxnov-umoPZVmaHKd8T1Z0dBHD9WHkk5o7Oedq1yj7DURdGmWefFYQsBMIem4Ml29Xk03UHQM6H-BCxabwlQai/s1600/blogger-image-1121291694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja3-yPr8iD3lTppgkjTvAj62pJc_0eE-B7_TPA-NKIQeslI4c4D1sXxkkxnov-umoPZVmaHKd8T1Z0dBHD9WHkk5o7Oedq1yj7DURdGmWefFYQsBMIem4Ml29Xk03UHQM6H-BCxabwlQai/s1600/blogger-image-1121291694.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIj37_BhTm4llG7CLRwCU4i8_qrYOi3qBQYrz0UY3HKeE5Qj6nQdr9iGQlVS9MyqAKz6ymeNN-ZtcdTd5-b2fC5Eoywxms-bCTLiVAz4NLGexg-oTGAmMBjBUztuDT6ZPPkq_v8dEwP1i/s1600/DSC_3452-ME.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIj37_BhTm4llG7CLRwCU4i8_qrYOi3qBQYrz0UY3HKeE5Qj6nQdr9iGQlVS9MyqAKz6ymeNN-ZtcdTd5-b2fC5Eoywxms-bCTLiVAz4NLGexg-oTGAmMBjBUztuDT6ZPPkq_v8dEwP1i/s1600/DSC_3452-ME.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.tinafisherphotography.com/">Tina Fisher Photography</a></td></tr>
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We use our hands to pray.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uXboBCBcGFXYasWxbxo1E9yS-MnYHwuH5L5vXhv0w-CkxRIdfMoGnUnOAvAuUoRLIYQjuwBXVvVxKdBp8M3iw52Jsvzz-XcivwPUf793jJ1Uv_v97QznvvjZYCK10meCx7phyphenhyphenroMQMKO/s1600/DSC_3425-ME.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uXboBCBcGFXYasWxbxo1E9yS-MnYHwuH5L5vXhv0w-CkxRIdfMoGnUnOAvAuUoRLIYQjuwBXVvVxKdBp8M3iw52Jsvzz-XcivwPUf793jJ1Uv_v97QznvvjZYCK10meCx7phyphenhyphenroMQMKO/s1600/DSC_3425-ME.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.tinafisherphotography.com/">Tina Fisher Photography</a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tGT-0efLl3-OPHxET24uXhBE3x9OVRRGOTuLb9qflgievt9yYzvS1RZSHlQd3zVBGQq4o94rzW0sQ9nvCC8fd3xvH6SB58rlwVBsvJlJ-dVCvyDDVU3Uba_PknnDvWQiiFbN2a1ifxsn/s1600/DSC_3407-ME.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tGT-0efLl3-OPHxET24uXhBE3x9OVRRGOTuLb9qflgievt9yYzvS1RZSHlQd3zVBGQq4o94rzW0sQ9nvCC8fd3xvH6SB58rlwVBsvJlJ-dVCvyDDVU3Uba_PknnDvWQiiFbN2a1ifxsn/s1600/DSC_3407-ME.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.tinafisherphotography.com/">Tina Fisher Photography</a></span></td></tr>
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At the end of each day, our hands can tell a story. What is your story? How did you work and serve? What did you discover and learn? How did you love? How were you the hands of Jesus?</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-center;">"God wants to reach out to others through your hands. He wants to speak to others through your lips, and God wants others to look into your eyes and see Him... give God permission."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-center;">- John Cardinal O'Connor</span></blockquote>
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Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-37535247577070794442014-11-21T17:22:00.002-06:002015-05-07T10:30:44.576-05:00OverheardRecently, if you had been a fly on our wall, you may have overheard. . .<br />
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<b>Cucumber:</b> How do you spell wolf?<br />
<b>Me:</b> W-O-L-F.<br />
<b>Sweet Pea:</b> Are you sure you didn't just spell "waffle"?<br />
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<b>Me: </b> Can I show you how to load the dishwasher in a more efficient way?<br />
<b>Honey Bunches:</b> I may not be efficient, but I am agile and accurate.<br />
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<b>Gummi Bear:</b> What is a fife and comb?<br />
<b>Me:</b> I have no idea.<br />
<b>Honey Bunches:</b> Don't you mean a fife and drum?<br />
<b>Gummi Bear:</b> I don't think so.<br />
<i>For the record, it is fife and drum.</i><br />
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<b>Monkey Toes: </b> Whoa, this is crazy. Did you know that Maria Sharapova is 6'2?<br />
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<b>Pumpkin:</b> I need the launchers to get my bagel out of the toaster.<br />
<i>Here, Pumpkin is referring to the kitchen tongs, which has me questioning what exactly the tongs are used for when I am not around.</i><br />
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<b>Cucumber:</b> Who knew the Tooth Fairy was Catholic?<br />
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<b>Sweat Potato:</b> Is Breaking Balls on tonight?<br />
<b>Monkey Toes:</b> Do you mean "The Big Break"?<br />
<b>Sweat Potato:</b> If it's the golf show, then yeah.<br />
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<b>Me:</b> Please don't use your sleeve to wash the table. That is what we have dish rags for.<br />
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After discussing our favorite Junie B. Jones quotes. . .<br />
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<b>Sweet Potato:</b> I think "Aloha-ha-ha" was the last book in the series because she dies.<br />
<b>Sweet Pea:</b> Junie B. dies?<br />
<b>Me:</b> No, the author Barbara Park passed away.<br />
<b>Honey Bunches:</b> And that is why you need to speak with commas Sweet Potato. It's the difference between "let's eat, Grandpa" and "let's eat Grandpa."Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-1465281159964265652014-11-10T20:53:00.000-06:002014-11-12T16:57:40.915-06:00The Art of Culinary<span id="goog_881726879"></span><span id="goog_881726880"></span>For the last two years, I have had the opportunity to attend a lovely event called "Stars of the Future" at the "W" Hotel in downtown Minneapolis. It is hosted by the Hospitality Minnesota Education Foundation, with proceeds helping to defray expenses for high school students traveling to the ProStart National Invitational Competition next April in Anaheim, California. Sissy #1 is a high school culinary coach and her team has participated in this event for the past 4 years.
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<b>A little about ProStart</b></div>
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According to their website, ProStart is a two-year "hands on" career-building program for high school students interested in pursuing a career in the restaurant industry. About 50 high schools in Minnesota currently teach the ProStart curriculum. Each year, only two teams in the state win spots to compete at the national level. For the past seven consecutive years, Sissy #1's team has earned one of those spots.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sissy and her Team with their mentor for The Stars of the Future; Chef Tuan Nguyen of <br />Parasole Corporate.</span><br />
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<b>Everything We Ate</b></div>
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Students who executed and served these plates are only juniors and seniors in high school.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrylEd6EZg3lodkg4g7tps3s9vUZrYYeu25rhEJA4ku11p9Zl0YOefWZ4ZFjuuYPhB5Gz4kmafrVue4o-BiwRV83r3HnDBsQXqAtm-MLM-cNZwqIpdLuTTj_tSc_emihz_yAeJxVeyPXNl/s1600/blogger-image--1901389750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrylEd6EZg3lodkg4g7tps3s9vUZrYYeu25rhEJA4ku11p9Zl0YOefWZ4ZFjuuYPhB5Gz4kmafrVue4o-BiwRV83r3HnDBsQXqAtm-MLM-cNZwqIpdLuTTj_tSc_emihz_yAeJxVeyPXNl/s640/blogger-image--1901389750.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maple Braised Pork Cheeks with Savory Bread Pudding</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_lgplGp-sQVIkTyt1SJQODa_hJihwnUSPYn1Wi81flIMpoSzQ8RvofZMKfTi3CCGbICzrP4yBb4ygoTA61-RTJS9ajb9MMrkvp8_KKVkCWnuHwvcEZrThdYXyCCTHAPR6XwHzOLEYRn4/s640/blogger-image--2070004481.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Albondigas al Chipotle with Avocado Crema</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Salmon Tartar with Tropical Fruit Chutney and Avocado Mousse</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lamb Barbacoa Tacos with Mint and Lime</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Zen Reflection Asian Meatballs with Carrot Cilantro Slaw</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chickpea Croquettes with Cilantro Yogurt Sauce</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bunuelos with Salted Caramel Ice Cream and Fall Harvest Topping</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sissy #1, me and Sissy #2 after sharing in wonderful wine and delicious food!</span> </td></tr>
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There are many things I love about this event. For starters, these young people are goal oriented and driven in their passion for food and their hopes of breaking into the hospitality industry. To talk with them and listen to their ambitions is inspiring. <br />
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Secondly, I am over-the-top proud of my sister who is not only known in this industry, but is well respected. I was visiting with one gentleman who is a retired GM for a large golf course and served as a food judge in the ProStart competition. He said that the first time he met Sissy #1 and her team, he wasn't just amazed, he was astonished. Hearing that, my heart swelled. As with any of my siblings, when I hear nice comments about them and their character from others, I believe it is a direct reflection on my parents and the home we were raised. <br />
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At the end of the evening, Sissy's team was invited to create a six-foot gingerbread house to be displayed during the Christmas season at the Marquette Hotel in Minneapolis. Sissy confided to us that she doesn't even know where to begin with this project, but her students didn't hesitate to accept the challenge. What an exciting adventure!<br />
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I've included a YouTube video about the culinary program at Sissy's high school, produced and edited by high school students.<br />
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Thanks for bearing with me as I rattle on and brag a little about my sister. I love her and I am proud of her!<br />
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<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-60443785433089337832014-11-07T16:57:00.001-06:002014-11-12T16:59:30.760-06:00The Mary GardenSince I was a little girl, one of my favorite places to spend time in prayer and reflection has been the Grotto at our parish. It is a place that is not only beautiful, but also peaceful. The Love Bugs and I frequent the Grotto during the summer months. We often visit to pray our Rosary and then the Bugs play in the wooded area in front of it, running and climbing the trees.
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The Grotto was also a special place for my parents. They both had a loving devotion to our Blessed Mother. My Dad served on the Maintenance Committee and would volunteer to help with its upkeep. During the warmer months, my Mom would sit in prayer at the Grotto. </div>
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The day of our wedding, Monkey and I requested a photo be taken here.</div>
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A few years ago, the idea of creating a Mary Garden around the Grotto was presented in our parish. This project excited my Mom, as she envisioned its potential. When Mom was sick and wanted to plan her funeral, she requested that memorials be used towards the Mary Garden Project.</div>
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Through the generosity of family, our parish family, and friends, enough money was donated to complete the planting of the garden and purchase a memorial bench.</div>
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<b>The Planting</b></div>
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The Love Bugs and I volunteered to help plant the Mary Garden. I told the Bugs that if they became hot and tired and wanted to quit, to remember that we are not only doing this as a way to honor Mary, but also to honor Grandma. The Love Bugs were troopers and stuck it out until the end.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The end of a long, hard days work.</span></td></tr>
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<b>The Dedication and Blessing</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our beloved Priests, Deacon, and Bishop</span></td></tr>
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From Mary,</div>
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We Learn to Surrender</div>
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To God's Will in All Things.</div>
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From Mary,</div>
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We Learn to Trust Even</div>
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When All Hope Seems Gone.</div>
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From Mary,</div>
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We Learn to Love Christ,</div>
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Her Son and the Son of God.</div>
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St. John Paul II </div>
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Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-72540330181818856892014-10-26T19:23:00.000-05:002014-10-26T19:23:13.956-05:00Tomato, Tomato<b>Honey Bunches:</b> <i>Name a holiday that starts with the letter "M".</i><br />
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<b>Sweet Potato:</b> <i> Memorial Day!</i><br />
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<b>Me: </b><i> Mother's Day!</i><br />
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<b>Gummi Bear:</b> <i> Monica!</i><br />
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Everyone confusingly stares at Gummi.<br />
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<b>Honey Bunches:</b> <i>Wait. What?</i><br />
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<b>Gummi Bear:</b> (snapping her fingers and shaking her hips) <i>You know, that Jewish holiday.</i>Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-16548810733864264282014-10-22T20:53:00.001-05:002014-10-22T20:53:55.856-05:00Parenting Faux Paux<div>
When my Mom moved in with us, she was forced to downsize quite a bit. There were some items that she really loved and did not want them in storage, so she incorporated them into our home decor. One such item was a purple vase, crafted by my nephew in pottery class. The vase sat on a cart at the bottom of our stairs, accompanied by another piece created by my nephew, and a floral arrangement.</div>
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Now, before I go any further, allow me to preface this story. A short time before the vase situation took place, we had the mishap of a chewed piece of gum stuck to our deck. I asked the Love Bugs who it belonged to and nobody would own up to it. A few of them even rationalized that maybe it was one of the neighbors who did it, or the UPS or FedEx man. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, I let it go. The very next day, however, I found yet another piece of chewed gum stuck to the floor in our van. I said,<i> "We can't blame this on someone outside of our family. Someone needs to fess up!" </i></div>
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Their silence angered me. I know the kids were scared of being in trouble, but as Monkey Toes and I have explained before (many times), lying will always get them into more trouble than simply coming forward with the truth.</div>
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No one was talking.</div>
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As a result, a gum ban was enforced.</div>
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A few days later, I was putting some laundry away, and as I walked past the cart that holds the vase, I noticed it was not in its place. Actually, the vase was no where in sight.</div>
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I summoned the Love Bugs. </div>
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<b>Me: </b> <i>The purple vase is gone. Where is it?</i></div>
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<b>Honey Bunches:</b> <i>What purple vase?</i></div>
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<b>Me:</b> <i>The one that sits on the cart at the bottom of the stairs. It's gone and I want to know what happened to it.</i></div>
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Blank stares and tight lips.</div>
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<b>Me:</b> <i>At this point, I am not angry. I just want to know what happened to the vase. If one of you broke it, that's fine, but I want to know exactly what happened.</i></div>
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Continued staring, although some of the Bugs were beginning to look nervous.</div>
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<b>Me: </b> <i>O.K. If no one is going to talk, then I'm going to start assigning chores. Maybe some hard work will get you to tell me the truth. The longer it takes, the more mad I will become. So if you know where the vase is, I advise you to tell me now.</i></div>
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Pumpkin begins to cry.</div>
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<b>Me:</b> <i>Do you have something to tell me Pumpkin?</i></div>
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<b>Pumpkin: </b>(Completely balling) <i> I don't even know what a vase is!</i></div>
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The Love Bugs then began an assigned chore list. They were wiping down cupboards, cleaning the refrigerator, washing windows, vacuuming, etc.</div>
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Monkey Toes comes home from work.</div>
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<b>Monkey: </b> <i>Whoa. What did you kids do now?</i></div>
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Visibly upset, the Love Bugs explain to him that they are all being punished for someone not telling the truth about the missing vase.</div>
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Days go by and I still did not know where the vase is, nor can I find any trace of it. </div>
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A week or so later, we are hosting a gathering at our home. As I'm sitting at the table with my sister, I begin to explain to her about the vase.</div>
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<b>Sissy #2:</b> <i>You the mean the purple one that my son made?</i></div>
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<b>Me:</b> <i>Yes. It has just disappeared.</i></div>
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<b>Sissy's Son - My Nephew: </b>(Sitting in the other room) <i> I took that home with me the last time I was over. I told Monkey Toes I was taking it back. Didn't he tell you?</i></div>
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<b>Me:</b> <i> Monkey!!</i></div>
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<b>Monkey:</b> <i>Oh yea, I guess he did tell me. Sorry about that.</i></div>
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Yet another parenting faux paux for the books. I did apologize to the Love Bugs, as did Monkey Toes. This parenting gig is a pretty humbling act. </div>
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The gum ban has also been lifted.</div>
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Carry on.</div>
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Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-37740129104358234752014-10-16T09:34:00.003-05:002014-10-16T09:34:33.146-05:00Lost Vocals One week ago this morning, I woke up with no voice. I have not been sick. I have had no sore throat, no fever, no coughing; nada. I just don't have a voice. As a few have kidded, it must be from yelling too much at the Love Bugs. As a result of no voice, I had to relinquish my lector responsibilities last weekend. I can't sing in the car (that's my own personal studio where I belt out my favorite songs), and I couldn't yell and cheer for my boys as they celebrated their first football victory. I'm not a fan of these scratchy vocals.<br />
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At supper:<br />
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<b>Honey Bunches:</b> <i> I like the way you sound Mom.</i><br />
<b>Gummi:</b> <i>Yea, me too. Your voice makes you sound a lot younger.</i><br />
<b>Honey Bunches:</b> <i>I think she sounds like Adele.</i><br />
<b>Sweet Pea:</b> <i> Hey mom has a Dell computer.</i><br />
<b>Pumpkin:</b> <i>I know A Farmer in the Dell.</i><br />
<b>Honey Bunches:</b> <i>You girls Drive. Me. Crazy.</i>Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-50565699123676495942014-10-11T22:35:00.000-05:002014-10-12T07:36:22.736-05:00A Buoyant Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Thursday night our boys had a football game, in which they celebrated their first win of the season. It was a late game, getting us home after 9 pm (bedtime around here is 8-8:30). Despite the late hour, the kids were bouncing around on adrenaline, not only because of their victory, but also in anticipation of their school marathon for non-public education the next day. Miraculously, everyone made it to bed before 10 pm. It had been a fun night and all of us were looking forward to the next day.</div>
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Friday morning arrived.</div>
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We all crashed and burned.</div>
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There was fighting, crying, whining, pouting, searching for misplaced items, and more crying. Then as we attempted to back out of our driveway (15 minutes late), one of the Love Bugs realized that she had forgotten her backpack in the house, which resulted in more fighting and crying. </div>
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I yelled.</div>
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I was sarcastic.</div>
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I was not my best self.</div>
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In a not-so-soft-spoken nor warm-loving manner, I said,<i> "One way or another, we are going to start our day with Jesus." </i> I played my Catholic Devotions CD the entire trip and demanded silence. </div>
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We made it to school.</div>
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The Love Bugs jumped out of the Pilot and ran inside without even a glance back nor a little wave in my direction.</div>
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I sat in my vehicle, feeling very defeated.</div>
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I decided to surprise the Love Bugs by eating lunch with them that afternoon. I had the opportunity to sit with each of them, whisper, <i>"I'm sorry"</i> and <i>"I love you"</i> in each of their ears, and then give them a little squeeze. It was just enough redemption to help me get through the rest of the day.</div>
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As we were getting ready to leave for home after school, my friend Tina waved me down, She had just purchased a sweet, little gratitude journal that she wanted to show me. I liked the idea of it, but to be honest, I was thinking "I don't need that. What I really need is a nap and a boat load of patience." (Sorry Tina!) </div>
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Now lets jump ahead to this afternoon. I decided I wanted/needed to go to Confession. After my confession, Father shared some insights and scripture with me. Then he said. . .</div>
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<b>Father: <i> </i></b><i>I think you should keep a Gratitude Journal.</i></div>
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Hold the phones and shut the front door!</div>
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<b>Father: </b><i>A grateful heart is a buoyant heart. In times of difficulty and trial and even resentment, a heart that is grateful will keep you afloat. Journaling your gratitude will help you keep sight of your blessings.</i></div>
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After we left the church, I decided to get myself a pretty little journal. The girls picked this one out for me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCiagnIHzFMKptJcH6Spm75j6fX4q-zxgu2c8gt4G-3lnLcBwu22-0T6YgJHcqtRzvJ8E3tdtbRI5I3HK-NbZJLL1dZ-B5EPcUhpWgJs6PVG_YTaFgs8PlW25fcwmg7UulUrJY0BTvn4B/s640/blogger-image-128878869.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCiagnIHzFMKptJcH6Spm75j6fX4q-zxgu2c8gt4G-3lnLcBwu22-0T6YgJHcqtRzvJ8E3tdtbRI5I3HK-NbZJLL1dZ-B5EPcUhpWgJs6PVG_YTaFgs8PlW25fcwmg7UulUrJY0BTvn4B/s400/blogger-image-128878869.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I will keep this on my nightstand as a reminder to take time to reflect on the day. I know that I am blessed, but I think there is great value in writing down specifically that for which I am grateful and thankful.</div>
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Tonight I wrote:</div>
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1. Monkey Toes</div>
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2. Sweet Potato</div>
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3. Honey Bunches</div>
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4. Gummi Bear</div>
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5. Cucumber</div>
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6. Sweet Pea</div>
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7. Pumpkin</div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-2298129507934427872014-10-06T21:55:00.003-05:002014-10-06T21:55:38.444-05:00Our Newest Addition<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
When Monkey Toes and I first got married, we each owned our own vehicles. I was driving a Ford Focus and Monkey drove a Toyota Tacoma. I grew up in a Ford loving family and Monkey did not. When my Dad learned that Monkey drove a Toyota, well he had to have a look at it himself. After walking around the Tacoma a time or two and kicking the tires, he quite honestly told Monkey, "This is a pretty good lookin' truck. You just put ten Americans out of work, but it's a nice truck." </div>
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When we brought Sweet Potato home from the hospital, we rode in the Focus. A few, short months later, we discovered we were expecting Baby #2 and the Focus was starting to look a bit too cozy for our needs. We then purchased a Ford Windstar. I loved that van and it served us well until 2007 when the alternator went out while on our way to pre-school on the coldest day of the year. We determined it was time for a newer and more reliable vehicle. We then came home with a Honda Odyssey. </div>
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You can imagine the horror my Dad was feeling. </div>
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We have had this van for seven years. Again, it is a vehicle that has served us well with one exception; it only seats seven. Anywhere we have wanted to go as a family for the past 5 years, we have had to drive two vehicles. For shorter trips, it wasn't bothersome. However, there were a number of times when taking two vehicles hindered our decision to go places. Much of our time is spent inside our vehicle and when we can't all be together, it means some are missing out on good conversation, crazy sing-a-longs, and simply, uninterrupted time together. </div>
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Our van is a 2002 with 207,000 miles, and has a sliding passenger door that continually falls off its hinges. It is truly lived in and holds many fond memories. As much as the Odyssey has been a part of this family, the time has come to replace her.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOMkEshkCvbubind9uSnsxGlIzbOECMG6_UYviFVPfv1lbimygEhaRd8rWVM9Lg-YeEdFtQAtSP2Iv930u4vc_qs5t64avO7dPepipPFtVAHq6g6isOE2kVjvGpf0RimmVFLUf8ZvNWBb/s640/blogger-image--188759317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOMkEshkCvbubind9uSnsxGlIzbOECMG6_UYviFVPfv1lbimygEhaRd8rWVM9Lg-YeEdFtQAtSP2Iv930u4vc_qs5t64avO7dPepipPFtVAHq6g6isOE2kVjvGpf0RimmVFLUf8ZvNWBb/s640/blogger-image--188759317.jpg" /></a></div>
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Meet Honda Pilot.</div>
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She is a 2008, 8 passenger crossover and I love her.</div>
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We brought her home on Friday. In a sporadic moment, Monkey Toes yelled to the Love Bugs at 7:30 pm, "Get your coats on. We're going for a ride." I think I had a smile on my face the entire 40 minute road trip. </div>
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The kids are excited to have a "new" vehicle in the family as well. They were giddy about riding in it to school today. I was too, so much so that when I drove into the pick-up lane this afternoon and a few of the teachers commented on it, I got flustered and accidentally put on my wipers with a few splashes of washer fluid.</div>
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I am also enjoying the "new car" smell. We were running a little behind schedule this morning and both Cucumber and Sweet Pea asked if they could finish their breakfast in the Pilot. I told them no. I would rather have them be a few minutes late for school than to eat in the new vehicle. I know - that's an awful thing to say, but I just want to enjoy the cleanliness for a few more days before the newness wears off and she begins to looked lived-in.</div>
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So there you have it. The simple pleasure of owning a vehicle where my entire family can ride together and create more fun, long lasting memories.</div>
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Oh, and Dad? If you're looking down on us and shaking your head, well please know that the Pilot is exclusively manufactured in North America. And I promise, that when my babies are grown, I will once again be a proud owner of a Ford :) </div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1166456283476592519.post-83101137402882564422014-10-03T09:53:00.003-05:002014-10-03T09:53:25.744-05:00Back To School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhNU9CmZFsU4meQhKlqKUMWsWwLo0_e2HlfUiSiLlLUZ1eCVQVBUH9jznkfxzpVsvfuHobqQmBf-AJln00IJLXonGY_rSVRBojacznuIZqKh_Gt2Hz7xqGXyjGvopS9rr56RAxzJNzXr7/s1600/blogger-image-358851869.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhNU9CmZFsU4meQhKlqKUMWsWwLo0_e2HlfUiSiLlLUZ1eCVQVBUH9jznkfxzpVsvfuHobqQmBf-AJln00IJLXonGY_rSVRBojacznuIZqKh_Gt2Hz7xqGXyjGvopS9rr56RAxzJNzXr7/s1600/blogger-image-358851869.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>First Day of School 2014-2015</b></span></td></tr>
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We are off and running with the new school year. "Running" pretty accurately describes our lives.<br />
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Take into consideration that our summer was completely ours. Other than a family reunion in early June and then one week of Vacation Bible School, the remainder of summer was spent lounging and playing, mixed with a little bit of work (Monkey Toes is the exception here, as he supported our lounging and playing by actually going to work). <br />
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We chose to not sign the Love Bugs up for any Summer Rec activities, which resulted in an almost non-existent schedule; pj's until lunchtime, afternoons at the lake and plenty of rest and relaxation. The boys spent a decent amount of time on the golf course and our yard was frequented by neighborhood kids looking for a pickup game of football. Yeah, summer was pretty great.<br />
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Now, we are back to routine and schedules. Our calendar looks like a pen exploded on it, when actually it is our list of activities and commitments. <br />
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As busy as our lives are, I have a very full and grateful heart. I am thankful for healthy kids who love to be involved. I am thankful for this often crazy life with a rock-star husband and great kids. Sometimes overbooked and often sleep deprived, I wouldn't trade this House of Eight for anything!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Sweet Potato - 6th Grade</b><br />Piano, Trumpet, School Patrol Captain, Football, Altar Server, Youth Group</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Honey Bunches - 5th Grade</b><br />Guitar, Saxophone, School Patrol, Football, Altar Server, Youth Group<br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic7QGgcjDQTfEwZsnx6KNix3QzMQTEmHP7ttzOm2lDOu2IUigtjFaxDAHLOulXBYzxP_CZi6UAjFT2rKPoKc6uVyl1WnCTpzpTaOX60buc7Y4j3EyrX3_QJdOzGizVqcxcCZlJiYNWFszt/s1600/blogger-image-31966244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic7QGgcjDQTfEwZsnx6KNix3QzMQTEmHP7ttzOm2lDOu2IUigtjFaxDAHLOulXBYzxP_CZi6UAjFT2rKPoKc6uVyl1WnCTpzpTaOX60buc7Y4j3EyrX3_QJdOzGizVqcxcCZlJiYNWFszt/s1600/blogger-image-31966244.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Gummi Bear - 4th Grade</b><br />Piano and Art Club<br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglE4TQTFE_R6thx5EtOhNU4_ey9_oE5zsG0BDw-GmdteYwC0QfUd_Jk1KXc2EiWjwBhqSZUw9AwYfRcJuyOmMvtwoIoWz7_hltkXIvQq2mvpPFTPPR7iuxapGJkhCDetIr-aOs5p6zMBy_/s1600/blogger-image--2065795932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglE4TQTFE_R6thx5EtOhNU4_ey9_oE5zsG0BDw-GmdteYwC0QfUd_Jk1KXc2EiWjwBhqSZUw9AwYfRcJuyOmMvtwoIoWz7_hltkXIvQq2mvpPFTPPR7iuxapGJkhCDetIr-aOs5p6zMBy_/s1600/blogger-image--2065795932.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Cucumber - 2nd Grade</b><br />Piano (and an actress at heart)<br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpbLbEujGxwyUjcMxTDcDRa8LusuiQwmhaZIZNXIPrjgfmzAgsGEaEkUL0_l6esZ9vCaZfe3i-pdNHXPUyBGHE8uZT0ecPCdbbhc9UpLrERgUGwBXPPnjYvkAWd0j35ztBPrPtNS8YkSpX/s1600/blogger-image-575206902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpbLbEujGxwyUjcMxTDcDRa8LusuiQwmhaZIZNXIPrjgfmzAgsGEaEkUL0_l6esZ9vCaZfe3i-pdNHXPUyBGHE8uZT0ecPCdbbhc9UpLrERgUGwBXPPnjYvkAWd0j35ztBPrPtNS8YkSpX/s1600/blogger-image-575206902.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Sweet Pea - 1st Grade</b><br />Loves school, reading, and crafting</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE8h2GOAiHem1kXM3Q-eRVLJDLyUjYhqdMcoPovw059QfYGC7A6TzHuff9i8kzk0_M1ZfaD1OJdpQUbB2jLOAv-rsICvSoxuGjLhD7iS2bkxKkzQ7v-EUjDLjL_P6-wUgIXAdof4xY6Hx2/s1600/blogger-image--1961592304.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE8h2GOAiHem1kXM3Q-eRVLJDLyUjYhqdMcoPovw059QfYGC7A6TzHuff9i8kzk0_M1ZfaD1OJdpQUbB2jLOAv-rsICvSoxuGjLhD7iS2bkxKkzQ7v-EUjDLjL_P6-wUgIXAdof4xY6Hx2/s1600/blogger-image--1961592304.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>First Day of School for Pumpkin - Pre-school</b><br />Jumps-out-of-bed-in-the-morning-because-she-is-so-excited-to-go-to-school-and-thinks-it's-a-rip-off-that-it's-only-3-days-a-week-and-only-half-days!</span></td></tr>
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<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17742621369397747839noreply@blogger.com2