tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25961394061930947922024-03-12T19:38:21.782-07:00The Ballif BunchAimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-47671048671742743562011-05-27T16:15:00.000-07:002011-05-27T16:15:58.805-07:00Happy HAPPY Anniversary Jess!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XO0niq9NE-Y/TeAsnkXAAbI/AAAAAAAABIY/0SHRVKjBmPA/s1600/2-11+discvry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XO0niq9NE-Y/TeAsnkXAAbI/AAAAAAAABIY/0SHRVKjBmPA/s200/2-11+discvry.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">I really don't mean to exclude my boys from my postings...it just happens to be that my last 2 postings have been about my darling Jessica. My life with my boys is extremely fun, funny, and exhausting at the same time, so I will definitely post about them soon.</span><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Anyway, June 2nd marks the 11th anniversary of Jessica's open heart surgery. This day is forever branded in my brain, and is full of bitter-sweet memories. I used to feel sick and try to hide/bury all the memories this day, 11 years ago, was made of. But within the past year, I have learned to accept this experience, learn from it, be grateful for it, and move on. How can I not when I thankfully see Jessica's beautiful face </span><span style="font-size: small;">every day? She is a constant reminder of miracles, faith, and love of God. Some days I can just feel the angels that surround her! Mostly, I have now made this day a day to rejoice, praise the Lord, and enjoy all the memories Jessica has brought into my life. I'm so grateful for the modern day technology and the knowledge of the doctors and surgeons. They literally held my baby's life in their hands, and I know without a doubt, Jesus was present in that same room, guiding their hands. How grateful I am to have Him in my life, to know His love for me, and to understand His atonement. I could never have gone through this adventure with Jessica, without Him.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f-lJKNpbinE/TeAsxwZiXGI/AAAAAAAABIc/Qv0tDsN10oY/s1600/4-11+%252819%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f-lJKNpbinE/TeAsxwZiXGI/AAAAAAAABIc/Qv0tDsN10oY/s200/4-11+%252819%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;">If I was given the option to go through this again and change anything, I wouldn't do anything different. I am who I am, and Jessica is who she is today because of everything we've been through and learned from it. I'd rather have Jessica the way she is, than not have her at all. She is a courageous, brave, determined, stubborn, sweet, tender-hearted, beautiful girl. And she's learned more in her short 11 years on Earth, than a lot of grown adults ever do in a lifetime. She's found faith, in herself and in God. She's learned to be sensitive to other's needs. She's learned patience. And she knows she is loved. She has accepted her adventure and challenges from it, and never plays the "victim" part. Quite honestly, she is proud to have her health issues, and handles them in the most graceful and Christ-like way I've ever seen. I've learned so much from her.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ONIoVpYmlp4/TeAtHAWL0dI/AAAAAAAABIk/L8t6-VCLtvU/s1600/4-11+golf+%252828%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ONIoVpYmlp4/TeAtHAWL0dI/AAAAAAAABIk/L8t6-VCLtvU/s200/4-11+golf+%252828%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;">I recently heard a conference talk given by Elder Kent F. Richards of the Seventy (Ensign May 2011 pg. 15, The Atonement Covers All Pain), that brought tears to my eyes. It validated my belief that Jessica was/is playing with angels during her surgeries, especially the first one. And what comfort that brings to me, especially as mother! He says "I have noted that children are often more naturally accepting of pain and suffering. They quietly endure with humility and meekness. I have felt a beautiful, sweet spirit surrounding these little ones. Thirteen-year-old Sherrie under went a 14-hour operation for a tumor on her spinal cord. As she regained consciousness in the intensive care unit, she said: 'Daddy, Aunt Cheryl is here,...and...Grandpa Norman...and Grandma Brown...are here. And Daddy, who is that standing beside you?...He looks like you, only taller...He says he's your brother Jimmy.' Her uncle Jimmy had died at age 13 of cystic fibrosis. Later she told her father, 'Daddy, all of the children here in the intensive care unit have angels helping them.' To all of us the Savior said: 'Behold, ye are little children and ye cannot bear all things now; ye must grow in grace and in the knowledge of the truth. Fear not, little children, for you are mine...Wherefore, I am in your midst, and I am the good shepherd.'"</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">To Jessica: I love, adore, and admire you and your strength. You are my hero, and it is an honor to be your mother on Earth. Thank you for teaching me, helping me to grow. I would not be who I am today, without you. I love you more than my words could ever express! Thank you for fighting and being so strong on June 2, 2000. I am so proud of you! ♥ Mom :)</span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-60806527122771456372011-01-27T14:36:00.000-08:002011-01-31T12:43:47.187-08:00Jessica's StoryRecently I've discovered that I suffer from PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). Two incidents in my life have caused this, and I've been told that letting yourself deal with it, instead of burying it, can help heal. I only have the strength to deal with one incident right now, and this particular incident has a happy ending. I've been working on this for the past 6 months, in case you were wondering if I gave up on blogging. heehee. So, this is the reason why I'm telling about this traumatic, yet miraculous story...Jessica's story.<br />
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<div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDxYmGgbdI/AAAAAAAABGg/r6gs9yWc3QI/s1600/jessi+2ms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDxYmGgbdI/AAAAAAAABGg/r6gs9yWc3QI/s320/jessi+2ms.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Jessica Marlene Ballif was born on December 29, 1999, 2 1/2 weeks early. She weighed 5lbs. 11oz. and as far as we were concerned, perfect! Several hours after she was born, a nurse, I remember her name quite vividly...Bambi, not because of the Disney character, but because she discovered and delivered the disturbing news that began Jessi's road down CHD (Congenital Heart Defect). Jessi had a heart murmur. Now that I look back on it, I don't know why I took it so hard, thinking at that time my world was falling apart. It was just a heart murmur, a lot of kids have heart murmurs. But I think down inside, I knew it was something else. For the next few days, we had to take her back in to St. Mark's Hospital to get her blood pressure and ECK taken. Everything seemed to be alright, and I was told to just keep in contact with her pediatrician and keep an eye on it. Nothing serious. No big deal. I could handle that. Other than the fact that it paranoid me nearly to death!<br />
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</div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDxmgTZoVI/AAAAAAAABGk/_ar2bI99A1M/s1600/jessi+2wks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDxmgTZoVI/AAAAAAAABGk/_ar2bI99A1M/s200/jessi+2wks.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>At 2 weeks old, I was trying to adjust to motherhood, when Jessi started running a low grade fever. I did what most first time mothers do, panicked and took her to her pediatrician. Upon her examination, they told me what I already knew, she had a very distinguished heart murmur. So, they tested her oxygen level and discovered it was unusually low and she needed to be rushed up to Primary Children's Hospital in an ambulance. But some good news, no more fever. I think it's that moment when I subconsciously started burying the scary and painful memories, because it's hard for me to remember the next part. But some of it is coming back. Like how they had to lay her naked body on the cold metal table to examine her while she was SCREEEAAAMING. Then came all the blood tests, then the attempts to put an IV into her teeny tiny hand veins. And after a full hour of poking her, with no success, they ended up putting it in her head. And then came the worst, the spinal tap. Honestly, as I sit here with tears running down my face, I cannot think or talk about that part. It was too hard to sit there and watch her get hurt and I couldn't pick her up or comfort her or do anything but watch. So let's move on. I can't remember what happened next, but for some reason they moved us up to the 2nd floor and checked us in. I really can't remember, nor do I want to, what happened on the 2nd floor, other than holding her hand while she was in the crib. And getting the results of her tests. She had a VSD (Ventricular Septal Defect), which is basically a hole, and a sub-aortic stenosis. When the aortic valve opens, red blood flows from the left ventricle to the aorta. Stenosis (narrowing) of the aortic valve makes it hard for the heart to pump blood to the body. Her narrowing wasn't too bad, yet, but it would eventually need to be repaired because it was closing off. She would need to be seen regularly every month, and would need to take medication. I felt numb and cold, shocked. I cried and cried and blamed myself, wondering what I did to make her have such a defect. I felt like a failure who needed to be punished because I didn't grow her right. And above all, I was terrified. I still think it's my fault, although doctors have reassured me over and over again that it's a defect, nothing I did caused it.<br />
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</div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Her routine check-up at PCMC in May, found that the stenosis needed to be repaired and they were going to patch the VSD while they were in there. Poor Dr. Shaddy had to witness me falling apart, again. How could my precious, innocent daughter of God have to go through such a major surgery? Why didn't the Lord hear and answer my prayers? It wasn't fair! Her perfect skin was going to be permanently scarred for life. Why? Why? WHY??? Was I going to lose her? (Little did I know that the Lord did hear me, and was molding me into who I am today. I tend to learn the hard way.) I closed my mind as Dr.Shaddy explained the procedure of how it was done. All I heard was "cracking her chest", and I mentally checked out. The date was set for June 2, 2000...I think it was only about 3 days away from when we got that news. Which was probably good because I didn't really have a lot of time to sit and stew over it. You always imagine the worst. During that time I was given information about what would happen, by nurses. And we had good friends in the ward who had a son, although he was 14 years old, just have open-heart surgery with the same surgeon, Dr. Hawkins, who gave us some pointers and helpful advice. And our ward did a fast for her the day of the surgery.<br />
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</div><div></div><div>She couldn't have anything to eat or drink for 12 hours, so you can imagine how the morning of her surgery went. She was hungry, and very cranky...and I don't blame her, if only she knew what was coming next! Dr. Hawkins came in to talk to us before they took her in. I don't remember a blasted thing he said, other than, "In all my years as a surgeon, I've never done this procedure on such a small child." It was that point when I seriously thought I was going to lose my daughter. He explained that the opening he had to work on was the size of his pinky finger tip. And the area he was working in, was the same area where the "natural" pacemaker of the heart (sinus node) is. The sinus node is a small mass of special cells in the top of the right atrium of the heart. It produces the electrical impulse that goes to the left atrium and travels down to reach the ventricular muscle. These impulses cause the heart to contract or "beat". Anyway, he said that because he can't see the cells, he would try his best not to bother them. But there was a small chance that they may get bumped and the natural rhythm of her heart may not come back, and an artificial pacemaker may be needed. Next came the anesthesiologist. If ever a doctor has earned his money, these two people definitely did! My daughter's life was in their hands, and I had to step back and let them. I couldn't protect her anymore, and it nearly killed me.<br />
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</div><div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDyjljVyTI/AAAAAAAABGs/p7GgUD3jjA0/s1600/jessi+after+surgery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDyjljVyTI/AAAAAAAABGs/p7GgUD3jjA0/s320/jessi+after+surgery.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>We got word the surgery went well and I was able to go see her in NICU. As a mother, let a lone a first time mother, you NEVER want to be in that area with your child, ever! Don't get me wrong, they were all amazing! But I wasn't prepared for what I saw next. She was still out from the anesthesia and still had the ventilator breathing for her. She looked like a robot. And she had bloody bandages and wires and tubes running out of her chest and belly. They tried to get her to wake up, and in the process, she would open her eyes. But her eyes were not Jessica's eyes. They were dark and dull. I can only imagine how miserable she felt, and as a mom, that struck me to the core. I have never prayed so hard and for so long, ever, in my life! And I can tell you without a doubt, I was being carried on angel's wings. Because as I recall all of this, there is no way I could have done it on my own. And I'm certain that when the pain became too much for this little 6 month old to bare, she was probably playing with angels. Jessica did amazingly well within the next few hours and she was able to take the ventilator out...although I took their advice and left the room while they did that. She responded very well and was already healing quickly.<br />
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</div><div></div><div>That night, Bob went home to sleep, because the ICU guest rooms are very small...only big enough to hold a twin size bed. I actually started getting claustrophobic in it! Then early the next morning, I awoke to a women screaming, moaning "My baby is gone! No, no, no!!! He can't be gone!" I quickly got up and headed straight to Jessica in the ICU. Along the way, I passed a Samoan family in the next room, sobbing with the woman. A doctor was in there telling her family that she needs to take some sedatives to rest and that it would help her out. My blood went cold and my heart dropped. On my way to Jessica's room, I passed a room with more Samoans just outside the door of a room, and in that room, laid a little boy, who I believe was on a breathing machine. The quick glance I got, I still remember today. He looked so peaceful. And I will never forget the screaming and moaning of his mother. When I made it to Jessi's room, there she was, peacefully sleeping, with bright pink cheeks, and all I could think was, "Thank you, Lord!!!" Then I started having a panic attack. I couldn't be alone in that hospital! Bob came when he could. Family called regularly, and notes, flowers and gifts were sent. After 5 days, Jessica's natural heart rhythm still had not returned. She was about as active as any normal 6 month old, and didn't want to stay in bed anymore. She had a temporary artificial pacemaker outside of her belly with wires that were hooked inside her body. We had to keep a Onesie on her so that she wouldn't pull those wires out, and the risk was just too high to wait any longer for her rhythm to come back. So, the decision was made to implant a pacemaker into the side of her tummy. I wasn't thrilled, but I was also growing tired of the hospital. And there was still a chance that her own rhythm could still come back. Two days later, she went home.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDywhKDLLI/AAAAAAAABGw/53wQ7eTxD1g/s1600/jessi+1+yr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDywhKDLLI/AAAAAAAABGw/53wQ7eTxD1g/s200/jessi+1+yr.jpg" width="182" /></a></div><br />
</div><div></div><div>Jessica recovered perfectly and grew just as any normal little girl should. She had regular 3 month check ups, that later turned into 6 months, then annual. Despite the scars, you could never tell anything different about her. We started playing with the idea of potty training, a week before her 2nd birthday. One day I was so proud of her for actually sitting on the "big" toilet, at least trying, when she suddenly slumped over and fell off the toilet. She got up and cried, and I thought she had just lost her balance or was trying to get off. Then a few hours later, she was running down the hall and fell. Again, I thought, "What in the world, Jess? Why are you so clumsy today?" The last straw was when I was at work, I worked in Dimple Dell Recreation's day care, so I had her with me. We were about to close up when she came running to me, crying. I couldn't figure out why, then her eyes rolled back and she went limp for about 5 seconds. I freaked out and called PCMC, who told me to immediately take her to the emergency room. They did all sorts of tests on her, listened to her heart, and everything seemed fine. They were puzzled. The last resort was to just have cardiology come down and double check her pacemaker. Trish came down, hooked her up, and instantly found the problem. So, off to x-rays she went. They found that one of her leads (a wire from the pacemaker, hooked to her heart) was faltering out. They explained that because she was an active toddler, the wire must have gotten bent so many times and it was just about ready to break off. Depending on the way she moved or situated her body, it would falter out and not work until she moved her body in a different position. When they did the tests, she must have been in a good position because it happened to be working at that time. They told me she would need emergency surgery, but couldn't get her in until the next morning. So, we found ourselves back in the ICU at Primary Children's where they hooked her up to an external pacemaker machine that pounded so hard, it shook her whole body. You could tell by looking at her, she was anything but comfortable. She wanted to go home, she was hungry (she couldn't eat anything until after surgery), and couldn't understand what was going on. As time wore on, she became more and more agitated, so they decided to give her Versed, which typically is supposed to calm and relax. But with her, it did the exact opposite. She began to get restless, began to cry and want me to hold her, but when I did, she started hitting me and screaming and wanted to get down. So I would put her down and she would thrash around and scream for me again to hold her again...it went in that cycle until I screamed for a nurse to ask her what the heck she gave my baby! Before I knew it, there were 5 nurses swarming around trying to control her. They told me that she was having a reverse reaction to the medicine and they were going to give her something to counter-act it. I had to lock myself in the bathroom until the medicine got out of her system. I fell to my knees and begged for courage and strength to make it through this, because I couldn't do it anymore. My heart was broken into a million pieces, again, because I couldn't help her. But the Lord heard me, or rather I let Him in, and I immediately calmed down and felt at peace. When I got back to her, she was calmed, and let me rock her in the chair. The nurses put a warning on her charts that she is NEVER allowed Versed again! By this time, her veins were big enough to put leads/wires through her veins to her heart, so they moved her pace maker from her tummy, to her left chest. Again, she made it through the surgery with flying colors, and was back home within a couple of days, right on her 2nd birthday. Needless to say, the fall off the toilet didn't help her desire to be potty trained. It was quite some time before she ever sat on the "big" toilet again.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDzJb2fCgI/AAAAAAAABG0/s9WKzIq4CPQ/s1600/jessi+piano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUDzJb2fCgI/AAAAAAAABG0/s9WKzIq4CPQ/s200/jessi+piano.jpg" width="195" /></a></div><br />
</div><div></div><div></div><div>Jessica continued to do great, and kept up with her annual check ups and monthly phone pacemaker check ups. This little device is quite impressive, I have to admit, and I'm sure I don't even know the half of what it can do! With this particular model, she had to put on bracelets that had wires snapped on and connect to the little box. Then she had a round monitor, that kind of looked like a computer mouse, that we had to put over her pacemaker. We would call a number, and it would dial up and make noises like a fax machine. We had a hard time with this part because she needed to be really still in order for the machine to pick everything up, and she would always dance or bounce to the rhythm of the noises the machine would make.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHi2nGmHTI/AAAAAAAABG8/A5klSY_Wv5Q/s1600/jess+2+yrs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHi2nGmHTI/AAAAAAAABG8/A5klSY_Wv5Q/s200/jess+2+yrs.jpg" width="160" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjBPVxKlI/AAAAAAAABHA/r6WueSCbzOo/s1600/jessi+reading+to+l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjBPVxKlI/AAAAAAAABHA/r6WueSCbzOo/s200/jessi+reading+to+l.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjRVnGtPI/AAAAAAAABHE/V7xYIO2-_QA/s1600/jessi+kndrgtn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjRVnGtPI/AAAAAAAABHE/V7xYIO2-_QA/s200/jessi+kndrgtn.jpg" width="150" /></a> We went four more years with no incidents before her battery needed to be replaced. It was in May, she was 6 years old and in kindergarten. They tell me that changing a battery is an out patient procedure, however, I have yet to experience an out patient procedure...but I am dreaming of the day. Within 4 years, her pacemaker was now outdated, and they were just going to put in a whole new one instead of just a battery. It was still a simple procedure, but she needed to stay over night. By this time, I had Logen, who was 4, and Sawyer who just barely turned 2. So, it was a little more difficult to be away from home. I had to keep telling myself that this would be like a nice little vacation or get-a-way with Jessi, so I could muster up the strength to go through with another surgery. Other than eating too quickly after surgery and throwing everything up, Jessi did great. She loved the attention she got from family and friends. They let her keep her old pacemaker, and to this day, she loves showing it off!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjjqmzAuI/AAAAAAAABHM/MW65vkgIU68/s1600/scan0049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjjqmzAuI/AAAAAAAABHM/MW65vkgIU68/s200/scan0049.jpg" width="190" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjqez2sVI/AAAAAAAABHQ/zAZREdIcmSA/s1600/scan0050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjqez2sVI/AAAAAAAABHQ/zAZREdIcmSA/s200/scan0050.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
</div><div></div><div></div><div>Time flew by, and we ended up moving to Eagle Mountain. Jessica started 2nd grade and actually got up in front of her class to show and tell them about her pacemaker. We want everyone to be aware, and for her to know that it's not something she should be embarrassed about, but be proud of. She was beginning to come out of her shell a little...at least she didn't start this school year hiding under her desk. But she was still very timid, a great quality she gets from me. One day during recess, she was on the monkey bars and a kid got on behind her, and yanked her off. She fell, and of course, landed right on her chest, hitting her pacemaker. From her 8 year old words, she told me that it hurt her so bad, that she couldn't even move. She began to scream and cry, as the bell rang to go back inside, so no one heard or saw her laying there on the ground. She said she then crawled to her door and knocked on the door to get help. If you know me, you know how passionate I get with the welfare of my children. So this little incident really boiled my blood. The next day I met with the vice-principal and asked him where in the world his recess aides were, and why they didn't see a little girl on the ground screaming and crying! He told me that they are very busy and their attention can't be on all the kids every single second. I informed him that there were no aides out there, for Jessi to even see. And even though they are not Super Women, they should at least be able to see and hear a little girl screaming or laying on the ground. What if she passed out or hit her head, and needed CPR? She would have died if that were the case! Then he would have a hefty law suit going on. He then threw at me, "well, then maybe she shouldn't be allowed on the playground if she has such 'special needs'!" I gave him a look of "oh no you didn't!!!". I told him I would gladly get a letter from each and everyone of her doctors who would gladly back me up in saying that Jessica is a perfectly normal little girl with absolutely no reason to be banned from the playground. Just before I stomped out of the office, I told him that he needs to tell his aides and teachers that they need to either fulfill their duties and be on the playground or step it up in supervising those children. Any child could have fallen and gotten hurt, it didn't matter if happened to be one with a pacemaker. But unfortunately, that was not the last hit she gave her poor pacemaker. She was riding her bike one day, and fell over something, with the handle bar jabbing it. And the last blow was on a February afternoon. Bob and I were upstairs when we heard a huge bang, and Jessi screaming. Come to find out, she fell asleep on the couch, and rolled off, landing on her chest. She was complaining about her head; she told us she hit her head pretty hard. And for the next few days, she kept complaining about getting dizzy. I called her pediatrician and she told me it sounded like a little head concussion, but if it continued, to bring her in. A week later, she was still getting spells of being dizzy, so I took her into her pediatrician. They gave her an ECG and checked her out...finding nothing. Again, maybe a small concussion, but if it didn't go away in another week, call her cardiologist. A few days later, she called me crying from school; she was in rotations with another teacher when she was sitting in her desk, and she said she got dizzy and fell asleep. She woke up to the class shouting at her to wake up, and wondering if she was ok. Her teacher didn't know what happened, nor did the other teacher whose room she was in at the time, mention anything about the incident. (2 years later, as she has improved on communicating about her feelings and emotions, I discovered that she actually passed out! And get this...she wasn't in rotations like her teacher told me, she was in her class. I don't know what makes me madder, this teacher lying to me, or this teacher not even noticing a child passed out on the desk! It was her classmates sitting next to her who found her and started to get her to wake up. A few hours after that happened, is when she called me! Anyway, I brought her home and called her cardiologist who told me to hook her up to her pacemaker machine to check it. If anything is wrong with it, it will let us know. This machine is much more advanced than the other one! It sends the data of the test to cardiology, and within minutes, Trish called me and said that her other lead/wire broke and is barely hanging on. The machine even told them the day and time that it actually broke, which was the day she fell off the couch. Amazing, yeah?? So, I was instructed to immediately take her to Primary Children's Hospital.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjvaYEjnI/AAAAAAAABHU/Fq3yfliyL2E/s1600/scan0051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHjvaYEjnI/AAAAAAAABHU/Fq3yfliyL2E/s200/scan0051.jpg" width="159" /></a></div><br />
<br />
At this time, Logen was 6 and Sawyer was 3 1/2, and I was 6 months pregnant with Gavin. Luckily I have good family near by who was able to help me out. So, the story with this lead was basically the same one when she was almost 2...it was wearing out from all those blows and finally gave out with the fall. They admitted her to observe, and when it faltered out again while she was hooked up to machines, they decided to operate first thing in the morning. You would think after 3 surgeries already, I'd be prepared to go through another one. But I took it as hard as the last few. It was more heart breaking this time, because she was older and more aware of what was going on. And although she did her best to be brave, she was scared to death. The staff was great at bringing in a doll and showing her, on the doll, what to expect with IV's and procedures. My emotions were so high anyway because of my pregnancy, but when tears started dripping down as I walked her to the operating room, the staff and doctors let me go into the room and hold her hand on the table while they put her to sleep. They were so great, not only to her, but to me too. She started crying and pleaded with me to take her home, that she didn't want to do this. Again, my already broken heart became shattered into pieces. And as she drifted off to sleep, I completely lost it. They all reassured me that they would take good care of her and everything would be just fine. And it was. She was a trooper. Dr. Surreal was amazing at operating. They couldn't get the old lead out, so they tapped it and left it in with the new one that was put in. They also gave her a brand new and improved pacemaker. The next day she was able to go home. She healed quickly, although a lot more vocal about her pain and discomfort than the last few surgeries. She was able to go back to school a week later, taking her latest pacemaker that was removed, with her to show off.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHmxKv-6YI/AAAAAAAABHc/bcaIJRkjp4w/s1600/pacemaker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHmxKv-6YI/AAAAAAAABHc/bcaIJRkjp4w/s200/pacemaker.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHnCYPrqsI/AAAAAAAABHk/KfzLsO0Vpcc/s1600/missy-pacemaker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHnCYPrqsI/AAAAAAAABHk/KfzLsO0Vpcc/s200/missy-pacemaker.jpg" width="131" /></a></div><br />
I often wonder what goes through her classmates' heads when they hear her story and see her pacemakers. Do they really understand what a pacemaker is? Or how it is literally a small machine that is keeping her alive? Do they think any less or different about her? I'm sure time will tell. I think it was at this time that her cardiologist, Dr. Shaddy, told us he was moving back east and would no longer be her doctor. I had a hard time with this, since he had been with us for the past 8 years. But he left us in good hands, with Dr. Susan Etheridge. She had been around, assisting us with Dr. Shaddy, the past 8 years also, and was very familiar with Jessica.<br />
<br />
So, here we are today, with the same pacemaker that was implanted in March 2008. And (knock on wood), we've had no problems. I found a great support group for mother's with children and/or angels who were born with CHD, called Intermountain Healing Hearts.(<a href="http://intermountainhealinghearts.org/">http://intermountainhealinghearts.org)</a> This has been such a blessing to me! To know I'm not a lone, and get the reassurance and love from those who know and have been through what I've been through. We've met some amazing people through this group, that I'm so thankful for. Jessica and I were even able to meet musician Paul Cardall, who received a heart transplant a year ago. What a strong, faithful, amazing man to look up to for support! To hear his story through the mouth of his mother, was simply amazing for me. To know that we share a lot of the feelings and go through some of the same experiences she has, and feed off her strength and support, as a mother of a CHD child, has helped me tremendously! My family and I were also able to attend a camp put on through IHH. It was awesome to spend time with other families who are going through the same adventures we are on with Jessica. And no matter how many stories I hear, I'm always grateful to have the adventure's and trials we've had with Jessica...I wouldn't want to trade with any of them. Some of them ended in death, and I couldn't have even handled that. Some of them fare much better off than Jessi, but then I wouldn't have learned or grown as much as I have, or become as close as I am with her. As weird as this sounds, after all of this, I'm so grateful for being able to go through this with Jessica. It has helped define me as a person, a wife, a mother, a sister, a friend. I've grown so tremendously in ways I otherwise would have not. God new that. He knew, being as stubborn as I am, I wouldn't have learned it any other way. And with that said, I hope Jessica can someday feel the same way. I pray for her to know her potential, her strength, her bravery, and her beauty, and to use it in becoming a confident, selfless, understanding, passionate and loving woman who will go far and help others in this world. But above all, I pray she will be happy. Happy with herself, with life, and with God. And I pray she and I both can experience this together, on Earth.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHo4zyKfrI/AAAAAAAABHs/c90lFH4X4iQ/s1600/189retouched.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHo4zyKfrI/AAAAAAAABHs/c90lFH4X4iQ/s200/189retouched.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>It also helps to have a loving, supportive husband who stood by my side the whole time. I'm not certain he really needed to learn all this, as he is a far better person than me, but he has patiently stood by mine, and Jessica's side through all of it. It hasn't been easy, and I know the future won't be either. But to know we have each other to help us get through, is all that I could ask for. I'm indeed so very thankful for beautiful Jessica, and especially for her being my daughter. What a privilege. God does love me!<br />
<br />
And there you have it, Jessica's story.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHoX0MbHpI/AAAAAAAABHo/eUbBMMBmz_A/s1600/098rantique.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TUHoX0MbHpI/AAAAAAAABHo/eUbBMMBmz_A/s200/098rantique.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><br />
</div><div></div><div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-7273877266161734082010-07-03T18:49:00.001-07:002010-07-03T18:49:14.686-07:00<div><embed src="http://widget-d8.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=2449958197325869528&site=widget-d8.slide.com" style="width:400px;height:320px" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width:400px;text-align:left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2449958197325869528&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-d8.slide.com/p1/2449958197325869528/bb_t000_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2449958197325869528&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-d8.slide.com/p2/2449958197325869528/bb_t000_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2449958197325869528&map=F" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-d8.slide.com/p4/2449958197325869528/bb_t000_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-67804922429383126822010-07-03T18:17:00.000-07:002010-07-03T18:49:57.908-07:00Yellowstone 2010Since last year's Yellowstone trip (in May) was so cold, we decided to go this year in June, hoping it would be warm enough to camp. The days were great, but the nights were <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">cold!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Bob figured out how to turn the camper heater on...on the last night! Aw well, it was still fun. We borrowed Bob's brother's camper (Thanks Nate and Meghan!), and my mom and dad rented a motor home, and Jenni, Bailie, and Boston rode/slept with them. Hopefully next year everyone will be able to come! </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It was a lot of fun...I always </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">love</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> going to Yellowstone! We even bought binoculars this year, but still didn't see any bear. We did see tons of bicen, elk, and a couple bald eagles. When we went to the Discover Park, we saw the bears and wolves in the cages. It's not the same as seeing 'wild' bears, though. And as we were walking to a store, we saw a mommy elk who had just given birth 45 minutes ago. Her baby had just gotten up and started walking 5 minutes before we saw them. That was cute!!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Since there's so many pictures, I'm going to put them in a slide show...so enjoy!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-9493197765553382622010-07-03T12:50:00.000-07:002010-07-03T18:13:06.477-07:00Where oh where did my little baby go??<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Gavin Mark Ballif </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">has now entered 'toddlerhood', and I can't say that I'm too happy about it. Actually, yes, I am happy, but sad at the same time. He's definitely not a little baby anymore! Since he finally figured out how to walk 6 months ago, it's been like</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> BAM</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> He started talking, getting attitude, growing teeth, you know, the whole 'welcome to toddlerhood' thing.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">
</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TC-bcnyk9rI/AAAAAAAABDc/ZjWtBIGnadc/s200/4-10+gav+eat+candy.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489777386807686834" /></span></span><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TC-bdcJwKwI/AAAAAAAABDk/auZNmZcQzWE/s200/1-10+gavin+plyng.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489777400863533826" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Yep,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> 2 years old</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">. Wow. Gus Gus (as we call him, because he stuffs his whole meal in his mouth at once, and over the next few hours, gradually swallows little by little...I'm not kidding. He looks just like the mouse Gus Gus on Cinderella) has been my slow growing/developing child. But seriously, it's probably my fault because I haven't wanted him to grow up! He's in the 5% of height and weight and he only has 6 teeth. But he's completely and perfectly content with life and himself. He's talking more and more, telling us his likes and dislikes, and even where his body parts are (his favorite is butt, thank you </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">big brother Logen for </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">teaching him that!)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TC-b6uZ0y_I/AAAAAAAABD0/g5Vl3rrxEh8/s200/5-10+gav+and+grndp+barr.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489777903978990578" /></span></span><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TC-b56F4YRI/AAAAAAAABDs/ioC_5K2pOck/s200/1-10+sunglss.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489777889936695570" /></div><div>
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; ">He loves Popsicles, ice cream, cheese, gum, chocolate (that's my doing), bath time, brushing his teeth, and his sucking his two fingers while playing with his belly button. He loves being outside, loves playing with his older siblings, loves hugging his dog, and loves chillin' on mom and dad's bed watching TV before bed.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; ">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TC-c8xJaSGI/AAAAAAAABD8/OCC8thpKKKI/s200/6-10+B+%26+G.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489779038586816610" /></span></span><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TC-c91EBgfI/AAAAAAAABEM/Ivi_Q31VGzU/s200/6-10+gavin+water.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489779056817832434" /></div><div>
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Gavin dislikes nutritious food, in fact he has become such a picky eater that it's starting to stress me out. He doesn't like holding still, or anyone MAKING him do something. He doesn't like going through the car wash, he puts a blanket over his head until we're done. He has taken to coloring with markers, usually on himself or the walls. But for the most part, Gus Gus is a pleasure to </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">h</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">av</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">e ar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">ound</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> and sta</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">ys</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"> content with most an</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">ything.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TC_eguwpmFI/AAAAAAAABEg/sA5TLh-X1yQ/s200/6-10+g+cake.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489851124677187666" /></span></span><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TC_efuPyfsI/AAAAAAAABEY/NW9oNQT4_Js/s200/6-10+g+swing.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489851107359489730" /></div><div>
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">For his birthday, we went to Village Pizza, since pizza is one of the few foods he'll eat, and then went home for cake and ice cream. He got a Littletikes play set, and a fire station truck set. His favorite is the swing on the play set. He'll sit there and eat Popsicles while his big brothers fight over who gets to push him.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I love this little guy so much and couldn't ever imagine our family without him! It's been such a pleasure watching him grow and develop into such a loving, humorous little guy. We love you so much Gavin!!! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Happy 2ND birthday!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/TC_fOYL1CVI/AAAAAAAABEo/tTwW5A9TsAk/s200/8-08Blessing+day.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489851908891150674" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">
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</div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-33261761582416067522010-05-19T12:17:00.000-07:002010-05-19T14:33:07.023-07:00So, she dances...Jessica's been taking cheer/tumbling this year from Xpressions Dance. Stephanie Morgan was her teacher, and she was AWESOME!!! Jessi has really responded to cheer, more than she has to any type of dance, in all her 7 years of dancing. Maybe this is her true "calling"...she's found it! She loved cheer, and her teacher. And we're heartbroken Steph is moving. :( There's another one we're looking into, though. So cross your fingers!<div>
</div><div>Anyway, Jessi had her recital last week, and we were so proud of her. She was designated the "cheer captain", that she neglected to tell us about until that night. I swear this girl was born with rhythm, or it's her pacemaker that gives her such good rhythm. Either way, she's always been dancing since she started walking. When she was 2, there was this Pepsi commercial with Britney Spears, that went, Bah bah bah-bah baah, bah bah bah-bah baaah... it's hard singing in a blog! Anyway, Jessi totally had Britney's moves down from that commercial and did it all the time. Since then, she's ALWAYS been dancing, especially when she sees mirrors. :) If you walk past our home, chances are, Jessi is outside dancing to her own choreographed moves. I LOVE this girl! You rock Jess!! :) (She's the one in the front)</div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxP6R7gxK_80WpSfZ1BJdXIBIMm4qs-fZyslUNmkAIOjRd-RtwROOhvgDvbIAY4mqHM1qzREaGQ_1lDqU9HfQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-60927075339540152252010-05-06T15:55:00.000-07:002010-05-06T17:26:24.010-07:00And then he turned 5...what?? Can this be right?!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NLHbtCfEI/AAAAAAAABDQ/m-FQEYYCJWs/s1600/IMG_8914re2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 155px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NLHbtCfEI/AAAAAAAABDQ/m-FQEYYCJWs/s200/IMG_8914re2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468296963625745474" /></a> It's hard to believe this BIG spirit trapped in a LITTLE body came into my life 5 years ago! For the first 2 years of his life, we honestly believed he would be our easy-go-lucky child...since his thumb sucking kept him content and quiet most of the time. Boy were we wrong!!! He has very much turned into his own little self and he's anything but easy. Fearless, persistent, hilarious, vocally loud, hot-tempered, sweet, sensitive, and adorable are just a few characteristics this little man shows us on a regular basis.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NLGmou8-I/AAAAAAAABDI/RvQaHLE78W4/s1600/05-09.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NLGmou8-I/AAAAAAAABDI/RvQaHLE78W4/s200/05-09.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468296949380608994" /></a>But we wouldn't have him any other way. At least that's what I keep telling myself everyday. He isn't afraid to tell me how much he loves me, which coincidentally is usually right after he gets in trouble. "I still love you mommy..." is what he tells me when the tears are dried and the tantrum is over. I don't know what I would do with out him! He keeps us rolling on the floor with his quick-witted remarks and contagious laugh.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NLGQbbctI/AAAAAAAABDA/uiEO_DcWDkk/s1600/10-08+1+2nd+day.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NLGQbbctI/AAAAAAAABDA/uiEO_DcWDkk/s200/10-08+1+2nd+day.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468296943419224786" /></a>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKT9f3b3I/AAAAAAAABC4/jQTctZ9jAtk/s1600/5-08sawyer+dads+truck.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKT9f3b3I/AAAAAAAABC4/jQTctZ9jAtk/s200/5-08sawyer+dads+truck.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468296079344103282" /></a>And there's no doubt how much he loves his sister and brothers. Sleep-overs (in each other's rooms) is one of his favorite things! So are movies, candy, cheese, Slurpee's, his bike, Iron Man, and his blanky...I'm working on that last one, but I'm picking my battle with that one.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKTQU69II/AAAAAAAABCw/pe_31U_kPWw/s1600/1-08.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKTQU69II/AAAAAAAABCw/pe_31U_kPWw/s200/1-08.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468296067218601090" /></a>This year Sawyer had his first friend birthday party, and he chose the Transformer theme. I do not like throwing parties, but I'll do anything for my kids. It actually turned out pretty fun. He got a bunch of Iron Man toys, transformer toys, a new bike, you know, all the boy toys. As spoiled as we think he was, according to him, he got cheated because we didn't get him that blasted Ford battery operated truck...the one in WalMart for $200. Poor thing.<div>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKS5BLzMI/AAAAAAAABCo/UrcZ6oHOhck/s1600/sawyer+2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKS5BLzMI/AAAAAAAABCo/UrcZ6oHOhck/s200/sawyer+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468296060961803458" /></a>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKSYHnDII/AAAAAAAABCg/W61hyhZZ5jE/s1600/83887_183821_27929222_1168117758mde0aa3ab966dad6a54170190efb833927%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKSYHnDII/AAAAAAAABCg/W61hyhZZ5jE/s200/83887_183821_27929222_1168117758mde0aa3ab966dad6a54170190efb833927%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468296052130385026" /></a>Anyway, this part is for Sawyer...since this is the reason I'm actually blogging, for my kids to look back on and remember how cool of a mom I am. hahaahaaa...</div><div>
</div><div>Ok Saw man, I hope you know how much we truly adore, cherish and love you! Even when it seems we are hard on you, we "still love you anyways"!!! You bring so much fun and laughter into our lives. And you amaze me all the time by how much you already know about this life. I love how you embrace life with open arms and learn quickly to deal with what comes along...good or bad. I love your sweet hugs when you know I'm upset or down about something. And your cute, dimpled smile, that lights up your bright blue eyes, can nearly get you your way all the time. </div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKRwIqhkI/AAAAAAAABCY/lRiel49YuSc/s1600/66825_183821_20251440_1156702339md8a844218d2c5066d9e9f129e62cc1e5c%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 151px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NKRwIqhkI/AAAAAAAABCY/lRiel49YuSc/s200/66825_183821_20251440_1156702339md8a844218d2c5066d9e9f129e62cc1e5c%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468296041397388866" /></a>We are so happy to have you in our family and love you very much!!!
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NJcDGVZ6I/AAAAAAAABCQ/yhEiZrv3Wh8/s1600/65237_183821_20944974_1157773735mdd6024137f748c25864f8b11d9498b820%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S-NJcDGVZ6I/AAAAAAAABCQ/yhEiZrv3Wh8/s200/65237_183821_20944974_1157773735mdd6024137f748c25864f8b11d9498b820%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468295118774953890" /></a>HAPPY 5TH BIRTHDAY SAWYER!!!
</div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-83032553666621924502010-03-09T18:59:00.000-08:002010-03-09T19:20:28.898-08:00His eggs have hatched!<div>
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</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S5cP0cGrpjI/AAAAAAAABBg/lt5hq5CrJPI/s1600-h/IMG_8914re2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 155px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S5cP0cGrpjI/AAAAAAAABBg/lt5hq5CrJPI/s200/IMG_8914re2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446839667899737650" /></a></div>So, the other morning as I was getting ready for the day, and the kids were getting dressed, Sawyer comes running into my bathroom naked. "Mom! My eggs hatched!". I was confused on two things and didn't know which one to confront first. I started with the most disturbing issue, him being naked, and what seemed to be him playing with himself. So I asked this little white haired boy, "Sawyer, why are you naked? And why are you playing with yourself?". This clever four year old managed to answer all my questions with this reply, which didn't, at the time, make any sense and continued to confuse me. "Because mom, my eggs hatched, they are gone! I don't feel them anymore!". Being a mom of three boys, I had an ah-ha moment and impressed myself on picking up the meaning of his excitement. To which I replied, "you mean your testicles, (or in his language, his coconuts)?", "yeah, they're gone, they hatched!". "What did they hatch into? Should we be looking for something flying in the house?", I said. "No mom, they just hatched, they're just gone". Needless to say, I had my fun and explained to him that these eggs of his are not actually eggs, even if they feel like little eggs to him, they are called testicles. And they did not hatch, they just hide up inside when you're cold. He stopped for a few seconds, staring into space while this ran through his head, and then said, "oh", and ran back to his room to get dressed. Later that day I asked him if he found his eggs. "Noooo, they're still hiding, remember?" he said. That's life with boys. :)Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-21662617027955763972010-01-05T15:13:00.000-08:002010-01-05T15:58:45.046-08:00Happy 10th Birthday Jessica!<div style="text-align: center;">I feel like such a loser is so many aspects of my life, especially motherhood. But I'll tell you what, I feel like I did something right when I look at Jessica, even though a lot of it has nothing to do with me. Jessi turned 10 years old on December 29Th...that's a DECADE!!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S0PQLm7s4SI/AAAAAAAAA_s/BAsVqQ3OTWQ/s200/new+bike.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 172px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423407274132300066" /><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S0PQLS_HwcI/AAAAAAAAA_k/ZQo1OvulIP4/s200/dance+04+2.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 129px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423407268777935298" /><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S0PQKbhh4_I/AAAAAAAAA_U/y6uBlOdBRyk/s200/89126_183821_27849305_1167948672md35fe82f2564d0c44f6272a8546bde54d%5B1%5D.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423407253889868786" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We had a rough go at it from day one when they found a heart murmur, - what am I talking</div><div style="text-align: center;">about?! We are still having a rough go at and I'm pretty sure we will until we die. Anyway, despite everything this precious little girl has gone through, she has and is the bright ray of light that gives me hope in the dark. She teaches ME things that I should be teacher HER. She's everything that I wish I was at each stage in her life, and I am so blessed to have her as my daughter, and my constant reminder to do a little better.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S0PQKIiTNOI/AAAAAAAAA_M/tEOzyLqlXu0/s200/62207_183821_21361335_1158529824mdfaa768fe5fba753952d88e7493c9ffea%5B1%5D.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423407248792827106" /><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S0PO0Qw8C8I/AAAAAAAAA_A/cVF_0VXMZYs/s200/100_0182.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423405773532957634" /><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S0PQLAXRfCI/AAAAAAAAA_c/a0VZAXr_zUQ/s200/62123_183821_21361254_1158529718md672212c27c9689c64fd7ed0c3ac53fb0%5B1%5D.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423407263778962466" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Although Bob cannot wait for her to turn 12 (babysitting age), I most definitely can! I don't want her to grow up, at least not this quickly. I need her, probably more than she needs me! She is such a sweet, caring, sensitive, smart, funny, talented girl.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S0PO0HEL3KI/AAAAAAAAA-4/FVzhbdZ1_jQ/s200/100_0115.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423405770929331362" /><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S0POzEw_P7I/AAAAAAAAA-o/nXgPFaz_hWA/s200/fireworks+2009.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423405753132072882" /><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/S0POzv9v_QI/AAAAAAAAA-w/WnF7Mnbr0Bk/s200/j+%26+g+7-09.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423405764728323330" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Jessica loves playing the piano, loves cheer/dance class, enjoys reading, loves her brothers (most of the time), will actually sit through a whole movie without getting up or asking questions (like her brothers) , is extremely stubborn (wonder who she got that from), rocks at school, loves to be outdoors, and is a wonderful friend to everyone, once you can get her past the "quiet/shy" phase.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy Birthday, my sweet, precious princess! I LOVE you!!!</div><div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-54822778421779209512009-08-11T19:29:00.000-07:002009-08-11T19:58:15.047-07:00Happy (belated) 4th Birthday Sawyer!!<div><div><div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIu2oGdP4I/AAAAAAAAA9E/Aq4bBKKTzSw/s1600-h/5-09+s+4+cake.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368905221791367042" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIu2oGdP4I/AAAAAAAAA9E/Aq4bBKKTzSw/s200/5-09+s+4+cake.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIu3B7JgEI/AAAAAAAAA9M/cUM09guvNzk/s1600-h/5-09+s+4th+birthday.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368905228723257410" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIu3B7JgEI/AAAAAAAAA9M/cUM09guvNzk/s200/5-09+s+4th+birthday.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<div>So, I just realized I didn't post Sawyer's 4th birthday...doooohhh! It's not like he didn't have one, I just forgot to post it! :) Now I don't even know if I can remember back that long ago! JK. Sawyer James, just saying that name brings a smile to my face! He is such a funny, sweet, little kid, with the biggest temper. He looks and acts just like the black sheep of the family. He's much more outgoing and carefree than my other kids. I can't forget about his volume, either. Even his "quiet voice" is loud...so you can imagine how much I enjoy his temper tantrums. And he's extremely fearless when it comes to the outdoors. Those who live around here have probably seen him cruising down the street on his bike, singing "because I'm bad, I'm bad, you know it!" (Michael Jackson) And he says and does the funniest things that crack us up. Just ask him to do the "moonwalk" or the "running man". He also has a big heart and never forgets to blow me kisses each night. I love that little man (I say 'man' because that's exactly what he thinks he is) from his blond hair, blue eyes and dimples, to his dirty blanky he drags around while sucking his thumb! </div>
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<div>For his birthday, he wanted to go bowling. And I forgot my camera. Yeah, I'm really shooting for the mother of the year award with him! But he had lots of fun, anyway! Afterwards, we went to the Training Table for dinner. Good times. I love you Sawyer!!</div></div></div></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-61364678795662917982009-08-11T18:34:00.000-07:002009-08-11T19:09:14.462-07:004th of July<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIeDdEJ9CI/AAAAAAAAA8E/Ue_Yrw8rz5s/s1600-h/2009+grd+kids.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368886750469551138" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIeDdEJ9CI/AAAAAAAAA8E/Ue_Yrw8rz5s/s200/2009+grd+kids.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIeCyFE8oI/AAAAAAAAA78/72vYd9gw62s/s1600-h/2009+grandkids.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368886738930692738" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIeCyFE8oI/AAAAAAAAA78/72vYd9gw62s/s200/2009+grandkids.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<div><div>What would holidays be without family?! I want to make a shout out to my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sista's</span> and tell them how much I love them and their families! Times get tough and they've always got my back for me and are always there to lift me back up...thank you Jenni, Heather, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Tamie</span>! I love holidays because of you guys and the fun we always have. Thanks for being my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">bestest</span> friends ever!!! And thanks dad and mom for raising us with so much love and fun...thanks for showing us how to love and enjoy life! Love you all!</div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIjOzgpBXI/AAAAAAAAA88/lqtVkqNr2kQ/s1600-h/fishing+7-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368892443031307634" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIjOzgpBXI/AAAAAAAAA88/lqtVkqNr2kQ/s200/fishing+7-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIjOcyimmI/AAAAAAAAA80/XV6972yozBs/s1600-h/4th+of+july+2009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368892436932368994" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIjOcyimmI/AAAAAAAAA80/XV6972yozBs/s200/4th+of+july+2009.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<div>This 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">th</span> of July we decided to get up early and go fishing...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hahahaaa</span>. Early for me, in the summer, is 8:00am. :) We did not get any fish, I guess we weren't early enough, but we did have fun. Afterwards we went in the hills and shot off some of Grandpa Barr's guns. (I know, right? How redneck does that sound?!) This was a HUGE step for me, since I am terrified of guns. It's not really the guns I'm scared of, it's the damage it does. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Anyhoo</span>, I decided now is the time to get over that fear and Bob jumped all over it. He even got me to get my concealed weapons permit, and I have to admit, I got pretty excited after this class. The next step is to get myself a gun, take classes with it, and buy myself a pretty little holster to pack it around with me. I know friends, you are wondering if this is such a bright idea for me...with my hot temper and all, but this cowgirl is growing up. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Haahahaaa</span>, shoot. No, really, I'm terrified of how crazy people are getting in this world, it doesn't help my anxiety. So, I am ready to get responsible and prepare myself to defend my family, if need be. So, if you need any help, just call...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">hahahaa</span>! Anyway, Bob also let <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Logen</span> take a couple shots (gulp), and he didn't stop smiling the rest of the day. Sawyer took one shot and cried the rest of the day...it terrified him. :) Jessi and Gavin sat in the truck with absolutely no interest at all in even holding a gun. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Hmm</span>, can you tell who I'm gonna have a hard time with in teenage years?! :) </div><div></div>
<div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIh5WaiygI/AAAAAAAAA8U/KOkmavZ7rKc/s1600-h/a+shootin+7-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368890974932224514" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIh5WaiygI/AAAAAAAAA8U/KOkmavZ7rKc/s200/a+shootin+7-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIh4kHYHGI/AAAAAAAAA8M/oazqETrtbBE/s1600-h/a+gun+2+7-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368890961430060130" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIh4kHYHGI/AAAAAAAAA8M/oazqETrtbBE/s200/a+gun+2+7-09.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>
<div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIh6nt43pI/AAAAAAAAA8k/3XJHk7Juc3Y/s1600-h/l+shooting+7-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368890996756635282" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIh6nt43pI/AAAAAAAAA8k/3XJHk7Juc3Y/s200/l+shooting+7-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIh6GAQ1zI/AAAAAAAAA8c/MqobjcwQFfs/s1600-h/l+gun+7-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368890987706898226" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIh6GAQ1zI/AAAAAAAAA8c/MqobjcwQFfs/s200/l+gun+7-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIjNtpPWmI/AAAAAAAAA8s/dvBTWYj5wdU/s1600-h/s+%26+l+ear+plugs+7-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368892424276892258" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIjNtpPWmI/AAAAAAAAA8s/dvBTWYj5wdU/s200/s+%26+l+ear+plugs+7-09.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>
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<div></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-10427553954362013882009-08-11T17:10:00.000-07:002009-08-11T18:32:47.937-07:00Happy 1st Birthday Gavin!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoISuNDzEbI/AAAAAAAAA7U/928jVl0eRCo/s1600-h/g+cake+6-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368874290767925682" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoISuNDzEbI/AAAAAAAAA7U/928jVl0eRCo/s200/g+cake+6-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIZ1Qj7uEI/AAAAAAAAA70/g2Zml5hgULE/s1600-h/g%27s+1st+bday+6-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368882108548495426" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoIZ1Qj7uEI/AAAAAAAAA70/g2Zml5hgULE/s200/g%27s+1st+bday+6-09.jpg" border="0" /></a>
Wow! Where did this past year go? Where did my baby go, for that matter?! Gavin is now one year old, but will always be my baby. It makes me so sad when I think back on how little he used to be and how fast he is already growing up. So, I try not to. :) Despite the fact that he is STILL not crawling, he is doing new things everyday. At his one year well child check, he was 2 ounces shy of 20lbs. That puts him in the 5% range for weight...I know, I was shocked too! With those chunky legs, I was certain he was a lot higher! But he is also in the 5% in height, so yes, he is my short and stalky one...just like his dad. :) And his doctor wasn't at all concerned about him not crawling yet, apparently some babies skip the crawling crap and go straight to walking. I really do not mind...I haven't had to put gates on the stairs yet, and it keeps him in the baby stage longer. He does love to be held, and obviously gets his way with that! He also is walking while holding fingers. And he now proudly shows us where his eyes, nose, mouth and bum is when
asked, and just got his first tooth!
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoISuu8M4VI/AAAAAAAAA7c/lHjDnqtkNjQ/s1600-h/g+eating+cake+6-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368874299862868306" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoISuu8M4VI/AAAAAAAAA7c/lHjDnqtkNjQ/s200/g+eating+cake+6-09.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoISvBwOJlI/AAAAAAAAA7k/OZgcrk9_0Vg/s1600-h/yummy+cake+6-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368874304912893522" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoISvBwOJlI/AAAAAAAAA7k/OZgcrk9_0Vg/s200/yummy+cake+6-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoISv5qCbfI/AAAAAAAAA7s/SMV6IuO3nMI/s1600-h/g+a+mess+6-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368874319919345138" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SoISv5qCbfI/AAAAAAAAA7s/SMV6IuO3nMI/s200/g+a+mess+6-09.jpg" border="0" /></a>
I am so grateful for this sweet little guy. He already has brought so much love and laughter into our home. His sister and brother absolutely adore and love him, as well as his parents! Gavin is so sweet and has completed our family. We love you Gavin!Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-25595549223990302962009-06-17T16:29:00.000-07:002009-06-17T18:20:59.960-07:00<div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;">I have a confession to make, hold on to your hats, it's a big one. I've been threatening Sawyer with "the cops"...doooohhh! I know, what kind of mother am I?! It all started when our neighbor's son got taken away by the police (awhile ago), and my kids asked me what he did. I jokingly said, "maybe he was being mean to his mom", and it stuck in little Sawyer's head. So over the past year or two, I've been using this to my advantage, more so recently, since school has been out. It just seems that I always have to be extreme with him, in particular, for some reason. Like when he was two, we were driving down Sweet Water Road (a main road that leads to our home, but not a "busy" road) and Sawyer decided to un-buckle himself in the car. We told him he better buckle himself up or he will walk the rest of the way home. His response was, "ok, I'll walk". Bob and I looked at each other smiling as Bob pulled the truck over on to the side of the road, thinking that this action would scare him into buckling himself back up. Nope, out jumped Sawyer onto the side of the road, with a wave of his little hand, saying, "you can go now, I'll walk home!" We drove forward a few several yards, thinking he would start to scream in terror, but nope, he started screaming for us to leave so he could walk home...alone. Yeah, that brilliant plan worked for our other 2 kids, but not Sawyer. Anyway, I have tried everything to get him to obey me, and stop throwing fits if he doesn't get his way. So one day during a temper tantrum, being as bright as I am and at ends wit, this is how it went down:</span></div>
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<div>Sawyer: Screaming because I wouldn't give him any of "mommies special treat" (chocolate) after finding it in it's hidden place. "Fine, I'm taking my pants off!" (As if that would really get to me)</div>
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<div>Me: "Fine, take your pants off, but you'll have to put them back on all by yourself because we are leaving in a few minutes."</div>
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<div>Sawyer: "Hmmph"...yanking his pants off. "Ah-ha, I took my pants off!"</div>
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<div>Me: "Now put them back on, we're leaving."</div>
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<div>Sawyer: "No! You have to help me now."</div>
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<div>Me: "Sawyer, I just warned you not to take them off or you'll have to put them back on...all by yourself, so put them on!"</div>
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<div>Sawyer: "I need help!!"</div>
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<div>Me: "Um, Sawyer, you just took them off by yourself, so you can surely put them back on by yourself, now hurry up, we're leaving!"</div>
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<div>Sawyer: Screaming, again, "No I can't!!!"</div>
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<div>Me: "Put your pants on or I will call the cops and tell them you're being mean to your mom."</div>
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<div>Sawyer: Paused to look at me, making sure I wasn't kidding, then dropped to his bum and yanked those pants on faster than I ever could! "ok mommy! I put them on, don't call the cops!"</div>
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<div>I know, he will probably need therapy in the next several years, but so far, this method is STILL working. Sure, he has tested me to see if I actually would, and I have had to call the police (it was officer Bob aka Dad), but he stops and begs me to tell them he'll be good and not to come. Don't underestimate me, I tell him EVERY time that the police are nice people who just don't like it when people and kids are mean to other people, especially their moms. So far, he hasn't run away screaming whenever he sees a police officer. He actually waves to them...maybe he's trying to butter them up for the next phone call. :)</div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SjmWUX6yxgI/AAAAAAAAAt0/-vQp6fqBrF0/s1600-h/5-09+s+4th+birthday.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348471309241337346" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SjmWUX6yxgI/AAAAAAAAAt0/-vQp6fqBrF0/s200/5-09+s+4th+birthday.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-62046850905403427742009-06-17T15:35:00.001-07:002009-06-17T16:28:27.778-07:00Tubby<div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SjlxKSX6gGI/AAAAAAAAAtk/xVBbFvKAIB8/s1600-h/IMG_3093+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348430454023946338" style="WIDTH: 181px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SjlxKSX6gGI/AAAAAAAAAtk/xVBbFvKAIB8/s200/IMG_3093+3.jpg" border="0" /></a>
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<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">I<span style="font-size:100%;"> can't believe my baby is almost one year old! I can't deny how much fun I've had already with this cute little person, & to think that Bob was "done" with 3 kids! Gavin is so cute & so fun to have around...I know, every mom says that about her children, but in Gavin's case, it's true. He is the only one of my kids who managed to produce "baby fat", and I've been getting a kick out of it. I mean, come on! Look at those adorable rolls! This is the only time in life when rolls are CUTE, especially with some butt crack showing. </span></span></div>
<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sjlw4rt2s0I/AAAAAAAAAtc/A11l20GXN7k/s1600-h/IMG_3088+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348430151589212994" style="WIDTH: 174px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sjlw4rt2s0I/AAAAAAAAAtc/A11l20GXN7k/s200/IMG_3088+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sjlw4J4XO9I/AAAAAAAAAtU/zX0toYQodKM/s1600-h/IMG_3079+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348430142506482642" style="WIDTH: 175px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sjlw4J4XO9I/AAAAAAAAAtU/zX0toYQodKM/s200/IMG_3079+3.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>
<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sjlw4J4XO9I/AAAAAAAAAtU/zX0toYQodKM/s1600-h/IMG_3079+3.jpg"></a></div>
<div align="center">I'd like to tell you how terribly advanced my little tubby is, as most parents do, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. In fact, I might say that I have a, oh how shall I say this, procrastinator (yeah, that sounds good) on my hands. I know he CAN roll, I've seen it when he wants something real bad & no one is around to give it to him, but he just doesn't LIKE/WANT to. I guess I don't blame him when his siblings jump at his beckon call (I wish they would do that for ME). Jessi tells me, "but I don't like his face when he cries, it makes me sad!" Maybe I'll start crying more, 'cuz she obviously enjoys my angry face. Anyhow, I've come to the conclusion that his extra weight & Ballif sized head is hindering his ability to crawl, as well. That most likely is not true, but it makes me feel better. I mean, really, those rolls CAN'T be the easiest to carry around on those small little bones! Trust me, I have the biceps to prove my point, from carrying him. But I'm not too worried, a little embarrassed, yes, when I see babies younger than him zoom past him on the church floor. That just means he'll stay "my little (or big, I should say) baby" longer! He has, however, started talking, and I honestly can't remember off hand when my other kids started talking, so I can't say or not if that is normal or advanced for this age. But every achievement he is making (with his procrastinator attributions) truly delights me. Even if it is only an "uh-oh", or (MY most used around the house) "neh-uh", or "da-da", or "ma-ma". I'll just quit worrying and start enjoying!
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<div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sjlw3x4F7-I/AAAAAAAAAtM/0WmBC3B64RY/s1600-h/IMG_3069+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348430136062898146" style="WIDTH: 163px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sjlw3x4F7-I/AAAAAAAAAtM/0WmBC3B64RY/s200/IMG_3069+2.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sjl7bru0q-I/AAAAAAAAAts/Tqbey2AbaJc/s1600-h/5-09+g+%26+uncle+m%27s+grave.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348441748004973538" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sjl7bru0q-I/AAAAAAAAAts/Tqbey2AbaJc/s200/5-09+g+%26+uncle+m%27s+grave.jpg" border="0" /></a> I forgot to mention why I put this pic on here. This is Bob's brother's grave, Mark, the one we named Gavin after...Gavin Mark Ballif. I know, how touching. :)
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<div></div></div></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-17408850242258693502009-06-05T16:16:00.000-07:002009-06-05T16:35:33.040-07:00Yellowstone National ParkFor Memorial Day weekend we decided to go to Yellowstone, since we hadn't been since I was pregnant with Logen. Despite the LONG drive up there, and Logen's scheduled question "are we almost there?" every 10 minutes, & Sawyer's geographical curiosity question "are we still in Eagle Mountain?" on every pit stop, we had a lot of fun. Pops and Grammy came, too, as well as Mike, Kindra, Kylie & William Jones/Stock. We saw lots of elk and buffalo, 2 bald eagles, a couple of coyotes, a fox, a wolf, & a far away mama bear and her cub climbing the hill...I think that's all. Anyhoo, we all had a great time. I love it up there! Since there was a lot of photos, I put them all in a slide show below this post. (You might want to scroll down to the music thing & pause it since there's music in the slide show.)Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-46542247136241596122009-06-05T16:12:00.000-07:002009-06-30T12:40:39.384-07:00Yellowstone slide show<div><embed src="http://widget-36.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=2594073385390949430&site=widget-36.slide.com" style="width:400px;height:320px" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width:400px;text-align:left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2594073385390949430&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-36.slide.com/p1/2594073385390949430/bb_t024_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2594073385390949430&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-36.slide.com/p2/2594073385390949430/bb_t024_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2594073385390949430&map=F" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-36.slide.com/p4/2594073385390949430/bb_t024_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-64570160544061207282009-06-05T14:49:00.000-07:002009-06-05T15:36:08.264-07:00Logen's school program<div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SimTh4KX1mI/AAAAAAAAAs0/_QmHYoMwzzY/s1600-h/4-09+blk+widow+prgm.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343964643072661090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SimTh4KX1mI/AAAAAAAAAs0/_QmHYoMwzzY/s200/4-09+blk+widow+prgm.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<div> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SimTTlpM8PI/AAAAAAAAAss/yfm1lJrJ200/s1600-h/4-09+blk+wdw.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343964397583528178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SimTTlpM8PI/AAAAAAAAAss/yfm1lJrJ200/s200/4-09+blk+wdw.jpg" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343964986658316914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SimT14Hk4nI/AAAAAAAAAs8/JO8z6R52ku4/s200/4-09+l+kndgt+prgm.jpg" border="0" /></div></div>
<p>Logen's kindergarten class put on a "Bug Program" last month, and I have to say I'm quite proud of him. This was right around the time he started getting anxiety about leaving me at school, but I guess as long as I was there, being in front of a ton of people didn't bother him. I really don't get him, sometimes! He desperately wanted to be a black widow, so there you have my sad attempt of a black widow costume. By the end of the program, it was falling apart! Ah well...good times, good job buddy!</p><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyr1iGOVVZrnS9ivUNVxmLAgdr23M4MWbLoOqXb3o9nBHdIiKvg5P2A9GBrWc-05K4XtV0mjR-DAQXbugLVwg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-5241331890858898982009-04-24T15:27:00.000-07:002009-04-24T16:33:37.718-07:00Spring Break<div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLuFnmLCI/AAAAAAAAAsc/w-o78tfe6yQ/s1600-h/zoo+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328404564287040546" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLuFnmLCI/AAAAAAAAAsc/w-o78tfe6yQ/s200/zoo+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>I remember <span style="font-size:180%;">Spring Break</span> being warm...don't you?! I guess I shouldn't complain, it could have been worse...like <span style="font-size:78%;">snowing</span>. We kept having to postpone going to <span style="font-size:130%;">Hogle Zoo</span> because<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKUD48ciI/AAAAAAAAArk/wtDePi7sbpc/s1600-h/giraffe+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328403017634705954" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKUD48ciI/AAAAAAAAArk/wtDePi7sbpc/s200/giraffe+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKUr7Y7kI/AAAAAAAAAr0/bLlPfMU71m0/s1600-h/leopard+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328403028382379586" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKUr7Y7kI/AAAAAAAAAr0/bLlPfMU71m0/s200/leopard+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLt0SoNTI/AAAAAAAAAsU/DZHfDPi8Sas/s1600-h/l%27s+lil%27+friend+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328404559635690802" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLt0SoNTI/AAAAAAAAAsU/DZHfDPi8Sas/s200/l%27s+lil%27+friend+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>of rain, but we did make it on Friday. It was a little <span style="font-size:180%;">chilly</span> at first, but by the time we left, it started warming up. But it was still <span style="font-size:130%;">fun</span>! This was Gavin's first zoo visit, and quite frankly, he could have cared less. He was just <span style="font-size:180%;">happy </span>to be outside! I love the zoo!
</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKTxmAZfI/AAAAAAAAArc/8_xt1OFmYUY/s1600-h/bunch+of+monkeys+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328403012723434994" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKTxmAZfI/AAAAAAAAArc/8_xt1OFmYUY/s200/bunch+of+monkeys+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKUznCJzI/AAAAAAAAAr8/eISCZMMYgj0/s1600-h/s+%26+J+caurosel+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328403030444484402" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKUznCJzI/AAAAAAAAAr8/eISCZMMYgj0/s200/s+%26+J+caurosel+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLuRv_RoI/AAAAAAAAAsk/qslRTUzKW9I/s1600-h/s+caurosel+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328404567543465602" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLuRv_RoI/AAAAAAAAAsk/qslRTUzKW9I/s200/s+caurosel+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>
<div>I could sit all day watching the <span style="font-size:130%;">monkeys</span> and gorilla. I just can't get over how human-like they are. Sawyer had a blast and kept saying "let's go check sumfin' else out!" He started a <span style="font-size:180%;">temper</span> tantrum when we were leaving, until we mentioned McDonald's...then <span style="font-size:180%;">life</span> was good again. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKUfcO1KI/AAAAAAAAArs/QrEbArUB6HE/s1600-h/hogle+zoo+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328403025030468770" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJKUfcO1KI/AAAAAAAAArs/QrEbArUB6HE/s200/hogle+zoo+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLtPXy9OI/AAAAAAAAAsE/rT7oYOwYIgQ/s1600-h/l+caurosel+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328404549725254882" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLtPXy9OI/AAAAAAAAAsE/rT7oYOwYIgQ/s200/l+caurosel+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLtXZ0_dI/AAAAAAAAAsM/kWSs0ieMXvI/s1600-h/l+zoo+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328404551881260498" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfJLtXZ0_dI/AAAAAAAAAsM/kWSs0ieMXvI/s200/l+zoo+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-13151893730476420362009-04-24T14:50:00.000-07:002009-04-24T19:49:33.223-07:00Welcome Irish!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328387150690107906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfI74e6jwgI/AAAAAAAAAq8/bIAhvBGR8KY/s200/Irish+3-09.JPG" border="0" /> <div><div><div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">I know, I'm </span><span style="font-size:130%;">really </span><span style="font-size:85%;">behind on my postings...</span><span style="font-size:130%;">better late than never, </span><span style="font-size:85%;">that's my life motto! My </span><span style="font-size:130%;">little</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> sister had her first baby girl...Irish James Talkington, and what a <span style="font-size:180%;">cutie </span>she is!! Jessi was so <span style="font-size:130%;">excited</span> to be the 1st kid to hold her (thanks Tam). It seems to be that Irish is following in Jessi's <span style="font-size:180%;">footsteps</span>, already, because at 2 weeks old, she was also rushed to the hospital to be poked and prodded over a health scare. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328387154589351106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfI74tcNfMI/AAAAAAAAArE/6wifxSaWphk/s200/4-09+Irish+pcmc.jpg" border="0" />Being up at <span style="font-size:130%;">Primary Children's Hospital</span> and looking at Tamie standing over Irish, all hooked up to wires, in her little crib, brought back all those unpleasant memories I buried when I was up there with Jessi at 2 weeks old. My <span style="font-size:180%;">heart<strong> </strong></span>broke for Tamie, and Irish. I realized you just can't bury painful memories, because sooner or later they will re-surface and hit you full <span style="font-size:130%;">force</span> with even more pain! <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328387157493176306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfI744QiV_I/AAAAAAAAArM/FhF0xHzX0qI/s200/irish+pcmc+2+4-09.jpg" border="0" />It's amazing to actually see a little of the <span style="font-size:180%;">Lord's </span>plan unravel, because had Irish come when Tamie and Jared wanted her to, a couple of years ago, Irish would have not survived. NEC is what she had...I <span style="font-size:130%;">honestly </span>can't tell you much about it, other than babies died from it up until a few years ago, and it's uncommon. But, <span style="font-size:130%;">thankfully,</span> she is home and doing well...and cuter than ever! Nothing says "<span style="font-size:180%;">welcome to motherhood</span>" like being rushed to Primary Children's Hospital in an ambulance, right Tam?! <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328387158296918162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfI747QKeJI/AAAAAAAAArU/F_WIZYGO_r0/s200/irish+pcmc+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></span></div></div></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-74482050695767881072009-04-24T14:08:00.000-07:002009-04-24T14:49:13.178-07:00Easter 2009<div><div><div><div>Didn't we just get through with Christmas?! And now it's already past <span style="font-size:180%;">Easter</span>?! I guess that's what happens with time, it's inevitable! Anyway, Easter has come and gone, and <span style="font-size:180%;">what fun it was!</span> The kids had fun sleeping in the same room that night, in fact they had a "sleepover" the whole week of spring break...whatever gets them to bed without a fight! As the Easter Bunny was making his stop at our house, he had to <span style="font-size:180%;">chuckle </span>to himself when he saw the kids' new Easter shoes outside their bedroom door for him to put candy in them. This was a tradition my sisters and I did when we were growing up, and my kids remembered it, without my reminder this year...what fun!
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIujGwRZTI/AAAAAAAAAps/zyMX8O2AkEE/s1600-h/fam+easte+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328372489776096562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIujGwRZTI/AAAAAAAAAps/zyMX8O2AkEE/s200/fam+easte+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328372765552059410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIuzKGYpBI/AAAAAAAAAp0/1jgJB4Hhi1U/s200/fam+easter+pict+4-09.jpg" border="0" /> <div>I found this cute website called <a href="http://www.myfavoritepal.com/">http://www.myfavoritepal.com/</a> that carries <span style="font-size:180%;">matching ties</span> from infants to adults. So, I found blue and white polka dot ones to match Jessica's blue and white polka dot dress...so proud of myself! Dinner at Grammy and Pop's was fun, too, along with the <span style="font-size:180%;">egg hunt</span>. But wasn't quite the same with Tamie, Jared & Irish not there. </div>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIvTdZhRgI/AAAAAAAAAp8/nRrczGvIL0w/s1600-h/kids+easter+2+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328373320488404482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIvTdZhRgI/AAAAAAAAAp8/nRrczGvIL0w/s200/kids+easter+2+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIwLZyhLxI/AAAAAAAAAqU/d7fwxlqzu8o/s1600-h/l+basket+4-09.jpg"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIw3C63gcI/AAAAAAAAAqs/5Ripv_SKGh0/s1600-h/j+basket+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328375031367434690" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIw3C63gcI/AAAAAAAAAqs/5Ripv_SKGh0/s200/j+basket+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIw2xIfRTI/AAAAAAAAAqk/EmHn4ik94Ds/s1600-h/l+basket+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328375026592728370" style="WIDTH: 199px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIw2xIfRTI/AAAAAAAAAqk/EmHn4ik94Ds/s200/l+basket+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIw2gdtmII/AAAAAAAAAqc/1dhzSmkrpys/s1600-h/s+basket+4-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328375022118344834" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIw2gdtmII/AAAAAAAAAqc/1dhzSmkrpys/s200/s+basket+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div>
<div>This year I only bought 2 bags of <span style="font-size:180%;">candy</span> and filled the rest with bubbles, toys, puzzles and snacks they don't get very often...I mean the <span style="font-size:180%;">EASTER BUNNY</span> only put 2 bags of candy in this year. AND I didn't hear any complaining...guess Bob was right (dang), they really don't need tons of candy! Being a <span style="font-size:180%;">kid </span>is so much fun! Next year will be even funner, with <span style="font-size:180%;">Gavin</span> being a little older and being able to join in. But this year, he was happy just being there!</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328376102286221922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SfIx1YZzYmI/AAAAAAAAAq0/uIHsUkTsZq0/s200/gavin+watching+eggs+4-09.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-23521827410822134552009-03-10T19:31:00.000-07:002009-03-10T19:44:34.912-07:00Laughin' Gavin<p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzJa1NkiGMV9wkRu43KbfENLCwtGfN28P24mPKx6pmutsyCjEiwVCQv2vUPtH9eHqZ5kKvyXlUzP97OhAKGmA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>The other day Logen got Gavin laughing really, really hard. By the time I grabbed the camera, he was pretty much done, but we did get a little of it!</p>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-66860661818169847472009-03-10T19:10:00.001-07:002009-03-10T19:29:48.161-07:00First haircut<div>
<div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311747289852528402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbceBGxNxxI/AAAAAAAAAo8/a09qMKiYN8Q/s200/g%27s+hair+cut+3-09.jpg" border="0" /> <div>
<div>When <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Logen</span> was 4 months, I completely shaved off all his hair (what little he had of it), because I heard it makes hair grow in thicker. Poor kid...he looked so funny, it really accentuated his ears. But he now has thick (and a lot of) hair! Anyway, I couldn't bring myself to shave Sawyer's head because of the way L<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbcekmFmZBI/AAAAAAAAApU/lP0pipQJRIc/s1600-h/100_1129.jpg"></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ogen</span> looked, but I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">wis</span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbchncLWbhI/AAAAAAAAApc/B_DDDk7rbbQ/s1600-h/g%27s+haircut+2+3-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311751246969204242" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbchncLWbhI/AAAAAAAAApc/B_DDDk7rbbQ/s200/g%27s+haircut+2+3-09.jpg" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">h</span> I would have because his hair is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">sooooo</span> fine and thin. So, I've been really torn on whether to shave Gavin's hair. After finding several sporadic hairs that were a good inch or two longer than the rest of his hair, I decided to shave it, just not as short as I did on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Logen</span>...enough to even it all up. He did really good! He didn't cry until I was done...must have been a little head massage for him. Doesn't he look good?! (Pictures <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">courtesy</span> of Jessica)
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbchyHp1N8I/AAAAAAAAApk/J65nn_kx-f8/s1600-h/100_1129.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311751430438467522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbchyHp1N8I/AAAAAAAAApk/J65nn_kx-f8/s200/100_1129.jpg" border="0" /></a>
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<div><div>I never really liked Valentine's Day when I was growing up, but my mom always made it fun. By passing on my mom's tradition, I hope my kids look forward to this holiday. Instead of roses for each kid, I make sugar cookies with their names on them, and give them candy and a toy. I needed a way to justify getting Mario Kart, so I talked them into wanting it for Valentine's Day. They originally didn't want it, but I did, so that just tells yo<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sbcbv1NyVOI/AAAAAAAAAok/T492jgk9By4/s1600-h/s+vday+2-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311744794059494626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/Sbcbv1NyVOI/AAAAAAAAAok/T492jgk9By4/s200/s+vday+2-09.jpg" border="0" /></a>u how good I am at convincing! But now I can't pull them away from it. And growing up, all the kids in our neighborhood would leave valentine's on doo<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbcbVvZktSI/AAAAAAAAAoU/AYwG4dRWYKU/s1600-h/l+vday+2-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311744345821721890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbcbVvZktSI/AAAAAAAAAoU/AYwG4dRWYKU/s200/l+vday+2-09.jpg" border="0" /></a>r steps, ring the door bell, & run. But no one around here has even heard of that, so our neighbors must think we're even weirder than normal! But the kids love doing that, probably because it's like playing a joke! <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbccEm18eUI/AAAAAAAAAos/fafIGjjQEtY/s1600-h/kids+vday+2-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311745150978652482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SbccEm18eUI/AAAAAAAAAos/fafIGjjQEtY/s200/kids+vday+2-09.jpg" border="0" /></a>
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<div></div></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-28440103609060633062009-02-01T17:51:00.000-08:002009-02-01T18:59:17.718-08:00Sleigh Riding<div>
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<div><em>I usually love the snow (as long as I'm not the one driving in it), so after driving by Silver Lake amphitheatre and watching people sleigh ride, I wondered aloud to Bob why we haven't been yet with the kids...ever. When we lived in Sandy, all the good hills were always too crowded and safety was a BIG issue for me. But now that we're out in the sticks with a lot less people, I honestly couldn't find a good reason to not go. And the un-plowed streets, after the big snow storm, brought back memories of my mom tying an inter-tube to the back of our car <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SYZgN5-RPZI/AAAAAAAAAmU/AWJvx_xX7JY/s1600-h/sleigh+ride+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298027803664530834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 190px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SYZgN5-RPZI/AAAAAAAAAmU/AWJvx_xX7JY/s200/sleigh+ride+2.jpg" border="0" /></a>and pulling us around the neighborhood and church parking lot. So, I bugged Bob about getting an inter-tube for about a week. But by the time he actually got one, the streets got plowed. That's okay, because he also got a plastic sled, so off to the hills we went! The kids had a blast...despite the bike helmets I made them wear (yes, I am a worry wart). And I decided to get in the action, too, despite the usual out come for me...peeing my pants. But surely now that I'm an adult and have better control, and things aren't as funny as they were when I was a kid, I shouldn't have a problem...right? Before I proceed with the story, let me give you some background on me. I have an extremely weak bladder with little to no control when I laugh. I should have factored in the fact that child birth does a number on your bladder, too...what was I thinking?! Anyway, the first and second time going down was a blast...I forgot how much fun it was. But I decided to do one last run before we left and Logen wanted to go down with me. Well, he like<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SYZgg8rJnxI/AAAAAAAAAmc/Ogafc2pYU0M/s1600-h/Logen+sleighing+1-09.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298028130807160594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SYZgg8rJnxI/AAAAAAAAAmc/Ogafc2pYU0M/s200/Logen+sleighing+1-09.jpg" border="0" /></a>s to drag his feet which made the sleigh turn and eventually tip us over. As I was sliding down the hill upside down on my back, I saw Logen fly in the air right over me, which started the laughing...uh oh. Eventually, I stopped half way down the hill so, I got up to walk down, and slipped and fell on my butt...where I finished sliding down the rest of the hill. All the while laughing with tears in my eyes, and you guessed it...peeing my pants! (I'm so good at hiding it, no one even knew!) My kids where looking at me with horror-stricken faces asking if I was alright...I'm not sure if they were actually worried abo<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SYZg4-aDStI/AAAAAAAAAmk/cp8hg53m39w/s1600-h/S...who+needs+a+sleigh.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298028543589173970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SYZg4-aDStI/AAAAAAAAAmk/cp8hg53m39w/s200/S...who+needs+a+sleigh.jpg" border="0" /></a>ut me, or just plain embarrassed. And Jessi proceeds to tell me the all-to-often speech I tell her "It's alright mom, sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself!" Maybe they thought I was crying because of the tears of laughter coming out...anyway, serves me right for giving myself too much credit on self control. I guess some things will never change...they only get worse!</em></div></div></div></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596139406193094792.post-36519957826728077202009-02-01T16:20:00.000-08:002009-02-01T16:46:12.710-08:00Growing too fast<div><div>
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<div>On January 29th, Gavin turned 7 months and got his first ear infection. I hope he has better luck with his first birthday! I've been lucky with my kids being able to avoid ear infections, until now. Sawyer had a little one, once, but this one was a pretty good one for Gavin. I hope this isn't a new trend for him. A<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SYZAQhfvO7I/AAAAAAAAAls/lYgNFeal3E4/s1600-h/ute+fan+1-08.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297992664261540786" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SYZAQhfvO7I/AAAAAAAAAls/lYgNFeal3E4/s200/ute+fan+1-08.jpg" border="0" /></a>nyway, this whole experience helped me realize what a good baby he has been. Sure, a little clingy at times...but honestly I like that; it makes me feel loved and useful :). He only cries if he's hungry, tired or one of his brothers is bothering him. So when he woke up in the middle of the night and didn't want to nurse or do anything but cry, I almost started to panic. But now he's back to his cute, happy little self and I have started appreciating him being such a good baby. Although, I fear what the future will hold with him...because he has now started clenching his fists in the air while grunt-crying when he doesn't get fed or picked up as fast as he would like. Great...pay back.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297993019021960082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_olb8oDH3yHI/SYZAlLFNo5I/AAAAAAAAAl0/GABTnZvO6Z8/s200/wut+up+g.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div>Aimeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03955855817635512424noreply@blogger.com0