tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80760052736791306852024-03-05T13:03:16.926-05:00Born From My HeartReagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.comBlogger114125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-14979769359247881912017-11-17T13:28:00.000-05:002017-11-17T13:28:09.687-05:00It's Been AwhileJust a quick catch up post. I now have 2 official elementary kids. 3rd grade and kindergarten. It's so hard to believe they are this grown up!<br />
<br />
My sweet girl went from this<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtufdjmgJBjqCkKroQel0Q7AHxx46cCLX9tJRAhOQkyS0yGz-ztXGex49dEp4lRLg14_-ifG_tcG_h2VNz0hHpCR5bYx7TK1gYA4759jJlTT8OoOuALiLQkmWvDgNf5jyP8zUsgOkPf5g/s1600/FB_IMG_1502724173790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtufdjmgJBjqCkKroQel0Q7AHxx46cCLX9tJRAhOQkyS0yGz-ztXGex49dEp4lRLg14_-ifG_tcG_h2VNz0hHpCR5bYx7TK1gYA4759jJlTT8OoOuALiLQkmWvDgNf5jyP8zUsgOkPf5g/s320/FB_IMG_1502724173790.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
To this<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisn_2YwXVQpd9__R-dIDht2kOMr_sn7H_Dp92ds1qQ8J5dKpcdSKsud2zBn4OtKaUJ2O1r1SAEl4nOHACAQVfQAlDVQjmS_83HVa62cO3KAXen2TLDruWGjjK4RBImkv6Wi0BmTDfVGJnM/s1600/20170814_074017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisn_2YwXVQpd9__R-dIDht2kOMr_sn7H_Dp92ds1qQ8J5dKpcdSKsud2zBn4OtKaUJ2O1r1SAEl4nOHACAQVfQAlDVQjmS_83HVa62cO3KAXen2TLDruWGjjK4RBImkv6Wi0BmTDfVGJnM/s320/20170814_074017.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
And my sweet boy went from this<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmSvPJRTjXEZNHvM0c51NWGtU6_m7QcwxfdyrvQ1oTcrtyLxDyTF9bSw75UkxHU05mF3BlIUk9gFHsBy4JlEFym-NJyNSW-SmzxWx8EKV7enNmGyd39MOZfqj6AMIOFLKzwdfeDFlNvkW/s1600/FB_IMG_1502724065604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmSvPJRTjXEZNHvM0c51NWGtU6_m7QcwxfdyrvQ1oTcrtyLxDyTF9bSw75UkxHU05mF3BlIUk9gFHsBy4JlEFym-NJyNSW-SmzxWx8EKV7enNmGyd39MOZfqj6AMIOFLKzwdfeDFlNvkW/s320/FB_IMG_1502724065604.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
To this<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTj0-0TOQTyH8pi0EZFwte-lyA89eVioDI2BpRorV58QVm3HY2PWHaATgM2ngdyv1zhiBUFMGQ-NlWoj78jJHfzA43IJBUUOVgZUQXFY3Gr1-Tfj7n3RYFFSc70q7Vc2v6cM6-eV67hxC/s1600/20170814_073612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTj0-0TOQTyH8pi0EZFwte-lyA89eVioDI2BpRorV58QVm3HY2PWHaATgM2ngdyv1zhiBUFMGQ-NlWoj78jJHfzA43IJBUUOVgZUQXFY3Gr1-Tfj7n3RYFFSc70q7Vc2v6cM6-eV67hxC/s320/20170814_073612.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
They are both doing so well and flourishing at school. We are so proud of both of them!Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-84579341346803780392016-03-22T17:24:00.001-04:002016-03-22T17:24:21.339-04:00Chest Pain Scare and Why It Stinks to Be Almost Equally Left and Right Brain DominantSo
about 11p last Wednesday night I was sitting on the couch in my PJs watching TV
and playing Candy Crush on my phone. My husband Adam was in the garage
finishing our daughter’s field day costume and my son was on his iPad next to
me. Out of nowhere I get this crushing, squeezing, pushing, vise-like
pain in my chest – just below my breast bone. It was so intense and so
instant. I sat there breathless and confused for a minute and then felt
nauseous. I tried leaning back, standing up, laying down, walking, etc.
and nothing was doing anything to relieve the pain. It wasn’t getting
worse or better it was just constant. My (split) brain starts having an
argument with itself that went on for 30 minutes something like this:<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
Right
Brain (RB) – OMG is this a heart attack?!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
Left
Brain (LB) – No, don’t be silly, it CAN’T be a heart attack.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– Are you sure because I think it is a heart attack and I’m about to freak
out!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– Nah, we are fine, maybe it’s a pulled muscle.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– Pulled muscle??? From WHAT? We were just SITTING there!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– Calm down. Let’s wait it out. Here, I’ll look up female heart
attack symptoms on Google and show you how wrong you are. Hmmm, vise
chest pain? Check. Nausea? Check. Trouble
breathing? Well, maybe but maybe just because it hurts and RB is in panic
mode. Jaw pain? Nah, oh wait, this side of the jaw kind of does
hurt – is it the heart or the panic or maybe a clenched jaw from the pain?</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– OMG! WE ARE GOING TO DIE! RIGHT HERE ON THE COUCH! IN FRONT OF TREVOR!
BECAUSE WE ARE TOO STUPID TO REACT!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– Um, well maybe we should go to the garage and let Adam know it hurts, ya
know, just in case and to calm you down.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB<span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"> – OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
speaks – Hey Adam, I, uh, well, um, I think something is wrong.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
speaks – IT HURTS IT HURTS MY CHEST HURTS THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
Adam
looks up from what he is doing and looks at me and starts to freak out.
He finally gets out of me that my chest is hurting really bad and has been for
about 30 minutes and nothing is helping and it isn’t going away and I can see
he is freaking out inside but he’s holding it together rather well on the
outside right then. So he takes me in the house and puts me on the bed
and he’s all what do you want me to do?!?!?!? And he really wants to call
911 but I’m hesitating. Because really, an ambulance is just too much
fuss for me. So my brain goes back to arguing.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– OMG let him CALL already!!!!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– But, they’ll bring so many rescue vehicles and rescue people and the
neighbors will see and this is probably nothing anyway.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– OMG let him CALL already!!!! What if this IS a heart attack and you are
wasting our time. WHAT IF WE DIE?!?!?!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– We aren’t going to die, I don’t think, at least not right now, probably,
maybe.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY LET HIM CALL ALREADY!!!!!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– Maybe we can wait another minute. ER visits are so expensive plus the
medics charge now too.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– WHO CARES?!?!?! If we DIE there is no more money!!!!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– Well, if it will make YOU feel better then I guess it would be alright if he
calls.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
speaks – Adam, you can call and see what they say.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– OH THANK GOD!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– This is going to be so embarrassing…We are going to feel like a total
idiot…what if they think we are faking? Or overreacting? Or stupid? Or drug
seeking? Or incapable of understanding that this is most definitely NOT an
emergency?!?!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– Oh man. I hope they hurry!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– Oh damn. I hear the sirens. They are getting closer. Here
we go…</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– YAY! They are here!!!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– Crap! We don’t have on a bra and we are in this ratty old paper thin
white t-shirt with our fluffy Christmas PJ pants and socks. Just
fabulous. Our hair is probably a mess by now too.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– WHO CARES?! They would need to remove our bra anyway to get a good
check on our heart so this way we’ve saved them a step.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– Yeah, sure, uh-huh. Oh crap, here they come running in. How many
are there?!?!?! Is that 8? 9? WTH?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m so mortified right now.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
RB
– I can totally relax now. Even if it IS a heart attack, the medics are
here and they know what to do.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
LB
– Yeah, now it is time for me to panic --- about the BILL this is going to be!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
So
the medics hook me up to the EKG and the heart monitor and do BP and blood
sugar and pulse ox and heart rate and who knows what else and ask a bunch of
questions and then say well everything looks pretty good so far but you still
need to go in because only the blood test can say for sure. And I’m all
well can I do that with my regular doctor tomorrow or do I have to have it done
in the ER tonight? And the medic is looking at me like ARE YOU
STUPID?!?!? And instead he says, well, you could but we HIGHLY recommend
you have it done in the ER tonight to be 100% sure. </div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
And
I’m all hmmm, well, um, I don’t know. I already feel foolish for letting
my husband call and now that I know my vitals are ok… And the medic says
well they LOOK ok but is doesn’t mean there isn’t something happening or about
to happen with your heart so we really think you should go in.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
So I say
well can I call my dad first and ask him? And they ALL look at me like
WHAT?!?! So I quickly say oh well he was a paramedic before he
retired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The supervisor says sure, call,
we will wait (in a nice tone but I wonder if he wasn’t being a bit snotty
inside his head lol) and then I look at the medic and I say look, it isn’t that
I don’t trust you because I absolutely do, it’s just that I have a really high
insurance deductible and I KNOW you aren’t supposed to make medical decisions
based on cost but that is my reality. And he was SO nice – he said it’s ok.
I get it.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
So,
I call my dad (it’s after midnight now) and he answers and I say Daddy can you
talk to the medics that are here and let me know if I should go to the
ER? And he says WHAT?!?! What is going on? So I give him a
brief rundown that I had chest pains for a while and they didn’t go away so I
had Adam call 911. He asked me what the chest pains felt like and what I
was doing before they hit. And I’m seriously expecting my dad to ask for
the vitals and tell me to stay home and call my doctor in the morning.
Because all my life you could have like half a limb sawed off and he’d be all
eh, you’re fine, rub some dirt in it and put this duct tape on it and it’ll
heal just fine. And he suddenly says – get your butt in that ambulance
RIGHT NOW! And I’m like whoa, wait, what? And he says why the heck
did you wait 45 minutes to call 911?! Women, especially women your age,
always ignore signs of possible heart attack and poo poo the symptoms and push
off treatment and more than half of them end up 6 feet under within a
week! GO NOW! And I’m all uh, ok Daddy, thanks. And I hang up
and say well, Dad agrees with you and says go so that is that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And left brain starts thinking oh crap!</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
I
walk out to the front porch and hop on the stretcher and get loaded up –
praying none of the neighbors are watching. The girls are bouncing all
around under my thin shirt and I’m like dang I should have grabbed a better
shirt. After I get loaded up the medic says so on a scale of 1 to 10, how
bad was the pain? My answer was – I totally suck at this game. He
laughed and said lots of women do – try to think of the worst pain you’ve felt
and compare. So I finally settled on a 7 – but I’m still not sure if that
is true because I honestly can’t tell if it truly hurt that bad or if the panic
it induced caused it to feel like it needed to be called a 7. So we are
bouncing along all the construction happening on the road to the hospital and the
medic – I’m going to start an IV now and I about jumped out of the back of the
ambulance!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My completely irrational and
illogical intense fear of needles has now trumped everything else. I said
well just know that I do NOT do well with needles and you saying you are doing
an IV is more panic inducing than those chest pains! He laughed and said
it will be fine. And I’m looking the other way thinking OMG he’s going to
STICK a NEEDLE in my ARM while we are BOUNCING along this road – holy crap I
hate IVs – omg this is going to hurt – I think I need to pass out – I can’t
believe he’s really going to do this – I’m NEVER going to survive!!!! And
suddenly he’s all I’m done and I’m like holy crap! That didn’t even hurt
and that took like .02 seconds total!!!! And he had put it a bit further
down on my arm instead of right in the crease so I was able to comfortably bend
my arm without it hurting or creeping me out so I am eternally grateful to him
for that.</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
Finally
we get to the hospital and they check me in and put me in a room right away and
a doctor, a nurse and a tech come right in and ask a bunch of questions and
start monitoring me on their equipment and the doctor ordered the heart attack
blood test plus a chest x-ray plus a bunch of other tests. By this time
the pain had almost completely gone away so I am feeling REALLY stupid for
calling 911 but also relieved that I was 1) in the hospital with the life
savers nearby and 2) things were looking fine and 3) grateful that I wouldn’t
be second guessing every little twinge or pain or arm falling asleep episode for
the next several months. After many hours in the ER because the first
blood test came back fine but must be repeated in 3 hours to be 100% sure, I
was discharged just after 5am with orders to follow up with a cardiologist
(that happened today and he’s pretty sure my heart is fine – further tests to
be extra extra sure to come but he’s confident I’m ok).</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
I
still kind of feel foolish for calling 911. The ER doctor said every
single patient with chest pains feels foolish for coming in, even the ones in
full blown heart attack, so she’d rather us be in there feeling stupid than
dead at home. She’s got a point!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So yeah, don’t ignore symptoms like that or wait too long to make the
call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Better to get an all clear from
many experts than to chance ending up 6 feet under!</div>
Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-17072029425704953422014-08-24T15:11:00.001-04:002014-08-24T15:11:59.691-04:00Kindergarten! Already?!?!?!On Monday, August 18, 2014 my baby girl started kindergarten at 5 years 8 months 2 weeks and 1 day old. Um, exactly how did that much time pass from this: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1wABCPsVFdRTWeCzTM_j6t6oZc-sC5ZeBOGx9RpR0pt0-sKj-G-WE-b-nmb5ACd0YHjCAEbCi6iwqlZ0rKHRYCZx9IkW6qT0Ucp159hUxrQCpyidWTfnw9nwS0WGFsH_oXxHkHqYqdQf/s1600/09_Reagan_and_Mommy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1wABCPsVFdRTWeCzTM_j6t6oZc-sC5ZeBOGx9RpR0pt0-sKj-G-WE-b-nmb5ACd0YHjCAEbCi6iwqlZ0rKHRYCZx9IkW6qT0Ucp159hUxrQCpyidWTfnw9nwS0WGFsH_oXxHkHqYqdQf/s1600/09_Reagan_and_Mommy.JPG" height="271" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
To this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgbM6GbHKV_bt9T3DrDsbGmtkcDrPfs00IEsXJzcGygWowjqAHK5Q611n1v0wk4ffAyaqIDPIpv6yeJs7L6b3Mv4qaolVeA5zWQ0443laC9LbbVHoGQSlAyf8tHmhqWwSJkOwPV2vMfBx/s1600/DSC00321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgbM6GbHKV_bt9T3DrDsbGmtkcDrPfs00IEsXJzcGygWowjqAHK5Q611n1v0wk4ffAyaqIDPIpv6yeJs7L6b3Mv4qaolVeA5zWQ0443laC9LbbVHoGQSlAyf8tHmhqWwSJkOwPV2vMfBx/s1600/DSC00321.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I swear I only blinked liked two or three times. Moms of newborns right now, don't blink!<br />
<br />
So to backup just a bit, on Thursday, May 29, 2014, Reagan graduated from VPK. I barely held it together through the ceremony and Reagan was her true funny little self throughout which helped. Here is her graduation video clip. She speaks so fast but she is saying "In Pre-K I learned how to read".<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyN56FaZ6_5bg1IzNXY_N8bThkRhdejKQCUedWPeoq5gJa8tXn3QbuziiD_-Cm18QDIiQ40QFp-yy0q37lm5Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
She had a great year in VPK and learned so many things and loved her teachers, Ms. Cara and Ms. Michelle. Her least favorite part of her day was naptime so she was very happy to learn that you don't sleep in kindergarten!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF__7jObtG3TLiZE30K0Bn-vdA8hpUC1fl-3vVPwo2_B22UkdJf_u0cZNMgezA-c_gexPx8PmgMvn90-dbf7eJ0mUuo6HuCSmmzjZ7kaRR17jQD3ixosoEz-T8ZAD-D48c_xE2Gz6WEeGk/s1600/DSC00299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF__7jObtG3TLiZE30K0Bn-vdA8hpUC1fl-3vVPwo2_B22UkdJf_u0cZNMgezA-c_gexPx8PmgMvn90-dbf7eJ0mUuo6HuCSmmzjZ7kaRR17jQD3ixosoEz-T8ZAD-D48c_xE2Gz6WEeGk/s1600/DSC00299.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzWKioWIXPMjHxOlWwOwIBph1-DKcpHj_PFsK3zyfCkl5kFuUthhc0tLTnQiSQrUTJ-jTWrX_9_kn05YT6nmPE8LEtZnSWO5BPZS33rbWbh4R7Bf1rWztLAbo-u0mi_y_d7MF-SYfwoEJ/s1600/DSC00303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzWKioWIXPMjHxOlWwOwIBph1-DKcpHj_PFsK3zyfCkl5kFuUthhc0tLTnQiSQrUTJ-jTWrX_9_kn05YT6nmPE8LEtZnSWO5BPZS33rbWbh4R7Bf1rWztLAbo-u0mi_y_d7MF-SYfwoEJ/s1600/DSC00303.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
She had a long, fun summer full of fun and family time and visits from relatives and late nights. The late nights came to screeching halt the night before school started and before we knew it, school was ready to begin!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xo_YC1SbKPmLR6pnTkr0RwVOFlmjVL8mft1Fun0JShsn0LIuapQOaDONE6fF5N39BqjKMD2zS1G-crS7oKtpOOLzeBt4mzdWAY4wzYfjyO4e3z_pgmShK7BqZOQygXSFInon9nney9F0/s1600/DSC00311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xo_YC1SbKPmLR6pnTkr0RwVOFlmjVL8mft1Fun0JShsn0LIuapQOaDONE6fF5N39BqjKMD2zS1G-crS7oKtpOOLzeBt4mzdWAY4wzYfjyO4e3z_pgmShK7BqZOQygXSFInon9nney9F0/s1600/DSC00311.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6w4TAqF1r2OjG9BFho18hyphenhyphen9nDW7unyPTkImyppMJMH436dlNR8iGFBYZ2a1bOlWtL-YNcKKbx-Qn_em7RqrZtA9JD4kyX5za_l4VcC4eut3dOKJynNWSkGxZZMUVh2qz3SzJpoOJj9Sop/s1600/DSC00312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6w4TAqF1r2OjG9BFho18hyphenhyphen9nDW7unyPTkImyppMJMH436dlNR8iGFBYZ2a1bOlWtL-YNcKKbx-Qn_em7RqrZtA9JD4kyX5za_l4VcC4eut3dOKJynNWSkGxZZMUVh2qz3SzJpoOJj9Sop/s1600/DSC00312.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56oROo8ek6RTHeAFoYKcKfPVPfB7Vn2B1Gy8nwJ47djbYk0GwOkl9zNvf0su7ywKoqUt2ywRQJxvlmeeL9EolLUQOh8NGbRkW_GpGx4kMeQ1oZU5wa48L7MXZ4YGh5L6iOxMvMItJkLgm/s1600/DSC00315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56oROo8ek6RTHeAFoYKcKfPVPfB7Vn2B1Gy8nwJ47djbYk0GwOkl9zNvf0su7ywKoqUt2ywRQJxvlmeeL9EolLUQOh8NGbRkW_GpGx4kMeQ1oZU5wa48L7MXZ4YGh5L6iOxMvMItJkLgm/s1600/DSC00315.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC11Z2h4_hT_m1hPHtMUjba0uKr8EE2sCFgFfcHK4AjaTLovEiIdV_mtyRNQt7K2YCybM-uW7NIIAFh8JDrTZMLGbwir1tbHb6CjcaPczECEBfFgWAYgWP4DQ_AkdiOrfVBSSOY5YKFD1c/s1600/DSC00316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC11Z2h4_hT_m1hPHtMUjba0uKr8EE2sCFgFfcHK4AjaTLovEiIdV_mtyRNQt7K2YCybM-uW7NIIAFh8JDrTZMLGbwir1tbHb6CjcaPczECEBfFgWAYgWP4DQ_AkdiOrfVBSSOY5YKFD1c/s1600/DSC00316.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtonTCncGLAr-MoLnBoCNaeLzHFoExx6SEq9Ed5iuJPIAhTIg8bu2Yto7p_DkltAJEgz5pmeiuS3NvGn39O0rQv-XxoZ9f9DHngU-9e77i_VRoeSRaBJdKo43Y6ZtTiQyEV1aAotRHWjh/s1600/DSC00323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtonTCncGLAr-MoLnBoCNaeLzHFoExx6SEq9Ed5iuJPIAhTIg8bu2Yto7p_DkltAJEgz5pmeiuS3NvGn39O0rQv-XxoZ9f9DHngU-9e77i_VRoeSRaBJdKo43Y6ZtTiQyEV1aAotRHWjh/s1600/DSC00323.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrVm0zL0rP52r0ZMzVB7xMWBU71J_cNd_yNPIiHZruCqJw1F924Do-NFOY8SP___LUkoZPeKijSX3u9tOvU56yhb7neiW9XHCWK1adXetg1Ye9-blHXNUu9v78yndIlQNFD8uU6mXwIT8/s1600/DSC00324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrVm0zL0rP52r0ZMzVB7xMWBU71J_cNd_yNPIiHZruCqJw1F924Do-NFOY8SP___LUkoZPeKijSX3u9tOvU56yhb7neiW9XHCWK1adXetg1Ye9-blHXNUu9v78yndIlQNFD8uU6mXwIT8/s1600/DSC00324.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We got ready, took some first day of school pictures and then walked to the bus stop. Since it was the first day ever in the "big" school, I hopped in the car (sobbing the whole way!) to meet her at school and walk with her to class. She didn't need this step but I did. :-)</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFZrdjJCxrzZVDVNhQhPjA-yKfjOLxbXtLjlcjvSXzj_G994zrum4AyYqKLp9sAla4RzpYz9TyM6SzehHH6t8wh4DOqMrbS-NnDxl_b8Am0Y6idt8US8siBJ7ya33vTUoOxtLusaKvwUK/s1600/DSC00327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFZrdjJCxrzZVDVNhQhPjA-yKfjOLxbXtLjlcjvSXzj_G994zrum4AyYqKLp9sAla4RzpYz9TyM6SzehHH6t8wh4DOqMrbS-NnDxl_b8Am0Y6idt8US8siBJ7ya33vTUoOxtLusaKvwUK/s1600/DSC00327.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumZURO-_4HCB_e4NbcGwfE9bDMDyUJ5L544ZMy87JSAhrxBZiHW3DXoRuTIFb4YpmDVcj9ayFG-fIVb3GjrCoYmDD4tztUUexCKxM42cYDYaW3GV4hrAkJXg2u1uy1ktBcm4VvOM3PxVt/s1600/DSC00330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumZURO-_4HCB_e4NbcGwfE9bDMDyUJ5L544ZMy87JSAhrxBZiHW3DXoRuTIFb4YpmDVcj9ayFG-fIVb3GjrCoYmDD4tztUUexCKxM42cYDYaW3GV4hrAkJXg2u1uy1ktBcm4VvOM3PxVt/s1600/DSC00330.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwIy_U9betAOAcfkZ2lyVRzeHd6toiiBsJ_7C_lHFrDt87PTpZPVpsBoHfxbifN3BrZZIAb5WDAbsPtNkIyckJcH7zwqxea_Nt5lPhuvuRLdhwWmgQ3Cq0vw3aeFTOrO_pjzn-3zNzWTr/s1600/DSC00335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwIy_U9betAOAcfkZ2lyVRzeHd6toiiBsJ_7C_lHFrDt87PTpZPVpsBoHfxbifN3BrZZIAb5WDAbsPtNkIyckJcH7zwqxea_Nt5lPhuvuRLdhwWmgQ3Cq0vw3aeFTOrO_pjzn-3zNzWTr/s1600/DSC00335.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After getting her settled in, the teacher shooed us moms and dads out the door to the Boo Hoo breakfast that the school put on for the kindergarten parents. It was basically an orientation to the school for the parents. The principal gave an introduction and shared her philosophies, told us about the school, gave us lists of resources for additional questions, etc. It was a nice touch to answer those lingering questions for us newbies.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Then I went home and logged on to work and kept checking the clock to await the return of my big girl. Finally the bus pulled up and out bounced this happy kindergartener!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QNUsUmPmTL4txUBG4t-f048746u0R3Af9-ZSFsBnhGXYBTEgfg-cVdhNNBxnXtmZJY1yQTHc2P1cMffe2sJoqjLL3QipP-rIaLa5bS0xyAFhiHzIP_ucDZ0tPhuhEXvYiJ3WWnhnkPYs/s1600/10615506_10152601640885428_5186812432677520929_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QNUsUmPmTL4txUBG4t-f048746u0R3Af9-ZSFsBnhGXYBTEgfg-cVdhNNBxnXtmZJY1yQTHc2P1cMffe2sJoqjLL3QipP-rIaLa5bS0xyAFhiHzIP_ucDZ0tPhuhEXvYiJ3WWnhnkPYs/s1600/10615506_10152601640885428_5186812432677520929_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We are now one week in and she still loves it. Her first week progress report was great with only one area checked for needing improvement. Seems this girl likes to spend too much time talking to her friends when she is supposed to be working quietly. I predict a reoccurring theme with that one. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As I was posting my conflicting emotions about the first day of kindergarten for my first baby, an old friend of mine posted this poem and tagged me in it. It pretty much sums up all of the bittersweet tears I shed that day.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZgJBWpIOeOUYjm-RA5q4RB5O0sF12C0QQA-4ekGCstQpW0bEeWT8f_-KwAxgMT3LfWevST_721IO5t6oU6llZfXMqiUZKjMIdGkAotbo6H-6TN7Ty44UgUwf11ELEn6FTrsSqsOWFztA/s1600/1800440_10152191055006863_2166531962376033289_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZgJBWpIOeOUYjm-RA5q4RB5O0sF12C0QQA-4ekGCstQpW0bEeWT8f_-KwAxgMT3LfWevST_721IO5t6oU6llZfXMqiUZKjMIdGkAotbo6H-6TN7Ty44UgUwf11ELEn6FTrsSqsOWFztA/s1600/1800440_10152191055006863_2166531962376033289_n.jpg" height="233" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I am just so proud of my girl!</div>
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-69171788716743247922014-04-26T17:58:00.001-04:002014-04-26T17:58:26.937-04:00Long Overdue Update on Trevor's Speech TherapyBoy did we ever luck out with the people in Trevor's life. We started him in preschool a year ago to help his speech and his teacher is AMAZING! We love her so much and have become friends with her and her family too. Her 17 year old daughter is actually Trevor's girlfriend. ;-) He sure loves his 'NaNa'. Anyway, between his therapist, who we also adore, and his teacher, Trevor has come so far.<br />
<br />
When he started he pretty much used 'Ma' for everything. Quite quickly after beginning preschool he added new words and began babbling in his car seat after school everyday. Yellow was one of his favorite words for a while and he still will say that is his favorite color. His teacher, Miss Mary, was so eager and willing to work with his therapist, Miss Tina, and the two of them implemented so many things in the classroom that helped not only Trevor but his classmates as well. He loves to go to school every day and he loves the routine that is established and if I try to stay in the room too long to talk with Miss Mary he will tell me bye-bye and try to shoo me out the door! <br />
<br />
Before preschool, Trevor was taking a while to reach his goals. After starting preschool, he was meeting his 6 month goals within a couple of months. Miss Mary and Miss Tina are quick to react and adjust his goals and the boy is just thriving! Once he had some speech under his belt, it became evident that his cognitive skills are advanced. He has long known the entire alphabet in upper and lower case, what sound each letter makes and examples of words that begin with each letter. He can recognize and spell his own name and the names of all of his classmates. He knows numbers up to at least 20 and has recently starting pointing out random numbers like '99' if he sees it written somewhere. And he has actual conversations now! I am constantly amazed by all of the stuff this kid knows!<br />
<br />
What has also become evident is that he has some sensory issues and those can appear to be behavior problems to the untrained eye. He likes for things to be very structured and has strong feelings on certain things he feels he needs to control. Like opening and closing of doors and the order of some events. For instance, if he wants his cup before his food and you give him his food first, a complete meltdown happens and you have to take everything away and start over or he will be inconsolable. This also translates into difficult transitions. Thankfully Miss Tina fought for him to start getting some OT and we have begun incorporating that.<br />
<br />
Overall he is doing fantastic and has made huge leaps and bounds this year and we are so proud of him. We are also immensely enjoying his fun and entertaining personality...and his willingness to take care of letting the dogs in and out to the yard. Such a helpful, wonderful child that we love so, so much!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_yw_8rFREQPp3fxrRkj6rQf8cgpEq5cBLqJL-SwpuWw8EqD-y45TZE55wFUiBtqJhJ1idvQYDJ_CmFnCpZCC79LdtdGdTIACAhZcESOALt7zgiXHs_N-60GBOiB8dqdI82Q0NASIR7w_/s1600/DSC09630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_yw_8rFREQPp3fxrRkj6rQf8cgpEq5cBLqJL-SwpuWw8EqD-y45TZE55wFUiBtqJhJ1idvQYDJ_CmFnCpZCC79LdtdGdTIACAhZcESOALt7zgiXHs_N-60GBOiB8dqdI82Q0NASIR7w_/s1600/DSC09630.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-28854548799881720222013-09-12T22:49:00.001-04:002013-09-12T22:49:38.778-04:00Jesus Lives in the Cookie Jar at Grandma's House and God Lives in a RoundhouseI try to expose my children to the same kind of faith I was while growing up. I was raised in a couple of really, really good United Methodist churches. They were open, friendly, supportive, non-judgemental, fun, loving, etc. We were taught the fundamentals of Christianity but we were also taught so much more. To be honest, I was shocked as I got older and realized that all religions and all churches were not so welcoming of everyone and anyone because that wasn't what I had been taught. I am thankful for those churches of my childhood because I have now grown into an adult who is secure in my faith yet respectful of others who share my faith differently, more, less or not at all. I will gladly tell others about my personal walk if they desire however I do not expect others to have that desire and feel everyone is entitled to their own beliefs or non-beliefs. I do however like to read of others' walks in faith so there are a couple of blogs I follow that do a great job of sharing.<br />
<br />
My point in all of that is that I want the same for my children. I want them to have a strong foundation of faith that they can choose what to do with as they grow. I have started and stopped attending a few local churches in the past several years trying to find the right match for us all so I haven't done the best job so far of making sure they are learning the fundamentals. I do make Christmas and Easter big teaching moments and on Christmas morning we sing happy birthday to baby Jesus before we open any presents (that Santa delivered on Jesus' behalf for us to enjoy). Reagan has always been a sponge and lately she has started asking me more and more questions about Jesus.<br />
<br />
Of late she has repeatedly asked for the crucifixion story and seems to really hone in and enjoy the absolution aspect. She will often stop me throughout to question and repeat why Jesus walked the earth and why He was crucified and what that did for all of us. When we get to the resurrection portion of the story she likes to talk about all the places Jesus is. She told me once that He was even on roller coasters and I had to laugh and say you know, I think He must ride A LOT of roller coasters as people call out for Him from there.<br />
<br />
The other night as we were saying prayers she informed me that Jesus lives at Grandma's house. I said oh He does? She then went on to tell me, in a very matter-of-fact-you-mean-you-don't-know way, that yeah, he lives in that cookie jar at Grandma's house. Now the cookie jar is actually a decorative urn that holds the ashes of my step-father, Papa Joe, who died well before she was born but she has heard us mention that Papa Joe is in there. Apparently Jesus lives in there with him when He's not out riding roller coasters and all. While telling my mother this story today we both remembered that I had declared a similar type "truth" around the same age as Reagan is now.<br />
<br />
As a small child I knew God and I knew Jesus but I was apparently more focused on the God aspect of things. I think because of the plaque that was above the sanctuary doors of my first church. The plaque said - This is God's house. Well looking around I didn't see God standing around, or His bed or personal things so maybe He didn't really "live" there. But He had to live <em>somewhere</em> - I mean, we all do and with how busy He was taking care of everyone in the world and listening and answering prayers then He must have someplace where He rests His head. So, one day while driving on the roads in Baltimore with my parents, I saw it! I saw God's house! Of course that is where He lives. It didn't look like any other building I had ever seen - it was different and special and from where we were on the road, seemingly inaccessible. He would need that kind of privacy. From then on whenever we drove past I would excitedly exclaim THERE IS GOD'S HOUSE!!!!! In truth, it is the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Museum but to this day we all still refer to it as God's house. And Jesus lives in the cookie jar on Grandma's counter. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpDGpf0CsQGdCgtcMymUnww25w_5zpqE_oAzGc0FQ4zxMS2ydHfOknEVTkZNI7fwQdv8TnVZQU4L5Bx3ntMfbxIk0X9AIB485iTwhYjenFmtIBX9zO-CNFLdDJP8oeHYdVGiiSp-waNFa/s1600/baltimore-ohio-railroad-museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpDGpf0CsQGdCgtcMymUnww25w_5zpqE_oAzGc0FQ4zxMS2ydHfOknEVTkZNI7fwQdv8TnVZQU4L5Bx3ntMfbxIk0X9AIB485iTwhYjenFmtIBX9zO-CNFLdDJP8oeHYdVGiiSp-waNFa/s320/baltimore-ohio-railroad-museum.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-74908396044101583002013-08-10T18:23:00.000-04:002013-08-10T18:26:32.552-04:00Where Do Babies Come From? One Little Boy has the answer...Something the other day that made me remember how kids sometimes perceive things. One of my BFFs has a son who we used to joke that I had shared custody of him. This child's heart really is a sight to behold. He has always been very sweet, loving, caring and empathetic beyond his years. He always seems to understand things on a deep heart level even when his young mind can't quite grasp all that is. One of those instances happened when I was in the trenches of fertility treatments and he himself had his little world off-kilter. Without going into too many details, he was 4 years old, his older brother had been horribly injured in Iraq (he is miraculously fine now thank God!) and his mom had to fly out for an undefined period of time to be with his brother as none of us knew if his brother was even going to survive. While his mom was away, he stayed with me and up until that point had never been away from his mother even overnight. <br />
<br />
During his extended stay with us I had many doctors appointments to go to. He picked up on the doctor talk and nervously asked what I needed a doctor for. Knowing he had to be worried because the recent doctor talk in regards to his brother was grim, I tried my best to put his mind at ease. One day while taking him to Pre-K he asked what was going to happen to me at the doctor later that day. I told him that he shouldn't worry about me because I was going to a doctor who was trying to fix my belly so I could grow a baby. Confused, he asked several more questions and I tried to explain in ways he could understand. He seemed satisfied with the answers and somehow internalized how badly I wanted to be a mommy.<br />
<br />
From time to time he would ask if the doctor fixed me yet and I would tell him not yet. Apparently his little brain then went into overtime trying to help his Aunt Dawn become a mommy. One day while picking him up from Pre-K he told me that it was okay that the doctor hadn't fixed me yet because I could just go into the baby room there and get a baby. He was so proud of himself for figuring out that people went into the baby room at his childcare center and came out smiling and holding babies and he was so happy to tell me of this solution. I nearly cried with the sweetness and innocence of it. Man I love that little boy! <br />
<br />
Here he is a little bit more grown up and sitting in a fire truck (a helper vehicle of course!). Can't you just see his sweet soul shining through?!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBekiNZ1iPuBOgZsEXDNfJE-itk_9kbBvOAC65eqzMSkS0Q5MDd7t2hft4n8gKnTdcn3h2HsR8LX5A1-diEQUuByRX3Q9sc7-ywVX9Hw4tQMMZmZ7O16OCqRmdEvGRpW8mqVICY7T5Dzdk/s1600/DSC07163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBekiNZ1iPuBOgZsEXDNfJE-itk_9kbBvOAC65eqzMSkS0Q5MDd7t2hft4n8gKnTdcn3h2HsR8LX5A1-diEQUuByRX3Q9sc7-ywVX9Hw4tQMMZmZ7O16OCqRmdEvGRpW8mqVICY7T5Dzdk/s320/DSC07163.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-31528285185543386942013-06-16T21:33:00.000-04:002013-06-16T21:33:40.268-04:00Graveyard VisitsFor as long as I can remember, my mom would go around to all of the family graves for each major holiday and put flowers. Of my mother's 3 daughters, I was the only one who enjoyed doing this with her. I can actually distinctly remember the last time she ever made my two older sisters go but I will get to that a bit later. I have very fond memories of visiting each grave and paying our respects and after I moved 800 miles away from where I grew up I really missed doing so with my mom. This past Christmas the kids and I spent the holiday up with my mom. I was so excited to visit the graves for Christmas and made my mom promise not to do it until I could be there. It made me feel good to be there for this tradition.<br />
<br />
This is for my grandmother and grandfather:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2lZbXX-5Gq8ZwDbWqFWx6BHS28oX0tF4tooC46kTVkawbf93B1c6TDD5KcXEQ9FBByR4D9ckeW40oIPL9IuYSpwj24XuVLUKhhviqiwMdojQag-K94KIdGEdbsLEWnuOTHjU3VrikhUQ3/s1600/Grandparents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2lZbXX-5Gq8ZwDbWqFWx6BHS28oX0tF4tooC46kTVkawbf93B1c6TDD5KcXEQ9FBByR4D9ckeW40oIPL9IuYSpwj24XuVLUKhhviqiwMdojQag-K94KIdGEdbsLEWnuOTHjU3VrikhUQ3/s320/Grandparents.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
This is for my much beloved great-aunt:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CjohRgGYXTqb3pqqUE4Aanc4nAta-oAABB7hn0yHtEfwW8ppCbP4rz6pBHSlRV-ZDZG2u7rl2MiU7AaEVNyfTSf1OTLeZ_3u1Zkv0L-dXvTtyOaHmI8aHQoCdUKGXQ4WEyriyY031n_5/s1600/AuntN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CjohRgGYXTqb3pqqUE4Aanc4nAta-oAABB7hn0yHtEfwW8ppCbP4rz6pBHSlRV-ZDZG2u7rl2MiU7AaEVNyfTSf1OTLeZ_3u1Zkv0L-dXvTtyOaHmI8aHQoCdUKGXQ4WEyriyY031n_5/s320/AuntN.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
This is for my aunt (my cousin had also been there):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiLi81nj56-VG3gWIxPgsWYzR71G_9ZaG8PgXf6I5pkSkyRNEoNllEnqIJm-wOVP0OZRJSov_gskEEPt9rdk47LODkV839JgnpmkBHf2kfCf_KmhhU389VPJ_fwMDy_uDAS8-0JbPBWzG/s1600/AuntM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiLi81nj56-VG3gWIxPgsWYzR71G_9ZaG8PgXf6I5pkSkyRNEoNllEnqIJm-wOVP0OZRJSov_gskEEPt9rdk47LODkV839JgnpmkBHf2kfCf_KmhhU389VPJ_fwMDy_uDAS8-0JbPBWzG/s320/AuntM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This is for my grandmother's best friend who was always part of our family in love and also was my mother's godmother - we called her Ollie (like ole-lee) as that is what my mom called her when she was first learning to speak and it stuck for the rest of her life:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfEGwXmLKIChLMciOq5wtf98AF8co2GoXb7XxVysLZomlqLGFRCLhis3QRCciNDTQhOE_xhMDI7Pci38EecuB_Nz15i-RHovdyUKQYWPoocdcR3TpHOmvw_v2zTq6Ed3YNbENOmr3OS-p/s1600/Ollie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfEGwXmLKIChLMciOq5wtf98AF8co2GoXb7XxVysLZomlqLGFRCLhis3QRCciNDTQhOE_xhMDI7Pci38EecuB_Nz15i-RHovdyUKQYWPoocdcR3TpHOmvw_v2zTq6Ed3YNbENOmr3OS-p/s320/Ollie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
So a couple of things about Ollie's plot. Her plot sits on a rather steep hill and one visit to her other family members while Ollie was alive and I was maybe 10 or so had me convinced that they were out and roaming. We had lots and lots of rain and with the rain came some erosion. Many of the in-use gravesites on that hill had caved in from the erosion. I had already bounded up the hill while my mom was helping Ollie up and when I saw the caved in sites I just knew they had gotten out. Funny thing was that I wasn't scared about it - just very concerned about how they were going to know where to come get back in and how we were going to find them to help them. It took my mom awhile to convince me that they hadn't actually gotten out because to me, at the time, them digging out was the only plausible explanation! <br />
<br />
Also near to Ollie's plot was a grave that once had a big beautiful statue on top of a pedestal. Some jerks had made their way through the graveyard one night and vandalized many of the stones. The statue on the nearby plot had been knocked off its pedestal and broken. I was young when this happened but I can still remember seeing the pieces laying on the ground and it made me feel so badly for that family. I am not sure if there were any surviving family left or if they still lived nearby enough to visit but the statue never got replaced. Well my heart couldn't take it so every time we visited I would pop off a flower out of the many we were placing on Ollie's plot and stick it in the hole left behind by the absent statue. My mom took up this tradition for me once I had moved and no longer went to the graves. Of course this Christmas I got to do it myself and we brought along a flower just for this purpose. :-)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-CxpGUxAs8qfvnSoWsHU53axwv05dORDJtkiEAa213r3mrUIzM42x1pBLh99uKePvyp3NXQ-9EbOZwa8TNgpOHDFOJztKeE6HbJIiZmVuhAkFBF3zCGhUJVzJfbg4xzJMY3wlwRpqeRT/s1600/DSC07551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-CxpGUxAs8qfvnSoWsHU53axwv05dORDJtkiEAa213r3mrUIzM42x1pBLh99uKePvyp3NXQ-9EbOZwa8TNgpOHDFOJztKeE6HbJIiZmVuhAkFBF3zCGhUJVzJfbg4xzJMY3wlwRpqeRT/s320/DSC07551.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
At one of the graveyards we visit there is a set of graves that we were always fascinated by. They were big columns and big elaborate stones and some even had stone picnic tables on the plots. On each of the stones were porcelain portraits of the people buried there. After visiting our family plots we would always run over to look at the portraits. Well while looking at the portraits one year my oldest sister nearly had a heart attack and never had to go to the graveyards again. It was around the time of the movie Carrie where she reaches from her grave and pulls in the people who picked on her and also around the time where the style was Jordache jeans with the big giant cuffs rolled up. It was also a winter visit so there were lots of dead twigs and branches on the ground. So, while looking at the portraits and moving from one to the next, a rather large twig got caught in my sister's jean cuffs and she thought for sure that she was being grabbed and pulled into the grave and just about jumped out of her skin. She screamed and ran and that was the last time she ever set foot in a graveyard! What is so funny to me is that my oldest sister is not scared of much, is very logical and a realistic thinker and isn't prone at all to being scared of boogeymen. She could walk through any haunted house alone and never jump or get scared but this grave grabbing about did her in! I had Reagan stand near some of those graves just so I could show my sister! LOL (Reagan was cold and tired here so she gave me a weird look when I told her to smile)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNj0vxuljOzFUZdqSVB9XXYxO4BzVsWho2-_lI3ZMr2fXvHQHCMfMAQEzPDXPpdbzVNvF0iQV9iT0C4xbEcLDKP9-DwlDIjgI2ifwoz98N69s46IZPoXG0k8RKNrVG4pwmX19QinDM8iCf/s1600/DSC07546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNj0vxuljOzFUZdqSVB9XXYxO4BzVsWho2-_lI3ZMr2fXvHQHCMfMAQEzPDXPpdbzVNvF0iQV9iT0C4xbEcLDKP9-DwlDIjgI2ifwoz98N69s46IZPoXG0k8RKNrVG4pwmX19QinDM8iCf/s320/DSC07546.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Here are some close-ups of the portraits:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf8iz7sN69X57wNNzYgk5ewBlLxSnrLiEo_xVhqcfhRhKqLT9Hz8A7rB9c5AmQ4B6tFz4s5BpiY7I65Ot8TdEYeUXuFgCSIqenXE4M_Qn02e3cekdz3QaK8nHIBHhHMNA_St9b1NCBUa8/s1600/DSC07548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf8iz7sN69X57wNNzYgk5ewBlLxSnrLiEo_xVhqcfhRhKqLT9Hz8A7rB9c5AmQ4B6tFz4s5BpiY7I65Ot8TdEYeUXuFgCSIqenXE4M_Qn02e3cekdz3QaK8nHIBHhHMNA_St9b1NCBUa8/s320/DSC07548.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWoIUuPEVxMBdOVvGNc6gQ7N4__cGpnRxdV8ap83gEjelPeW5aDOUkdcY227DJqPaX2SRx5iisRcQdxo2jvILJNnsppqqLkyhnQfZZciRoqqU8_JxNIujyk1ungxyLJxC6EpqHJQu7rX1R/s1600/DSC07549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWoIUuPEVxMBdOVvGNc6gQ7N4__cGpnRxdV8ap83gEjelPeW5aDOUkdcY227DJqPaX2SRx5iisRcQdxo2jvILJNnsppqqLkyhnQfZZciRoqqU8_JxNIujyk1ungxyLJxC6EpqHJQu7rX1R/s320/DSC07549.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYP9Vb03L8Auc2ZClj6sw9cQzf0O8SLVc5qxcGysD9uj2dkacSEf6NdS_KQ6LdysZWBGVA55gmw33Pom7Wl7bAdhFWzv3c21HP0zVNcEE0xbBffX1UYhurLccGzVWo3z1r-4Vu5hn5AjX/s1600/DSC07550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYP9Vb03L8Auc2ZClj6sw9cQzf0O8SLVc5qxcGysD9uj2dkacSEf6NdS_KQ6LdysZWBGVA55gmw33Pom7Wl7bAdhFWzv3c21HP0zVNcEE0xbBffX1UYhurLccGzVWo3z1r-4Vu5hn5AjX/s320/DSC07550.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I am still fascinated by those graves!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-56399145848094127152013-04-28T18:23:00.001-04:002013-04-28T18:23:24.781-04:00PreschoolAs mentioned in my previous post, both kids started preschool on April 8th. I was excited and terrified at the same time, plus a little sad. Since Reagan was born she has been home with me, her dad or close friends. Of course Trevor was too and these arrangements were great for us all. I started looking at preschools in February to get a jump on picking one for Reagan to start VPK (voluntary pre-kindergarten) in August as I was told that if you wait then your first choice may no longer have open spots. I have a tendency to procrastinate so I wanted to get the choosing and registering done well before August approached and sent me into a panic-driven choice. <br />
<br />
After visiting several daycare centers and talking to other moms who already use daycare I narrowed down my choices to tour. The center I decided on is small (no children under 2 and no children older than VPK), has lots of teachers and assistants in ratio to the number of kids, does not do field trips and is right across the street from where I work. I was very happy with the "vibe" of the place, the availability of the director and teachers for all of my questions and their rates are very reasonable. I sealed the deal in March by filling out the VPK registration forms and getting our list of supplies. <br />
<br />
Meanwhile, back at the home front, Trevor was participating in his weekly speech therapy. His therapist and pediatrician both agreed that at home Trevor just doesn't really have any motivation to communicate. He gets fed when everyone else does, he has a sippy cup available at all times, he naps and sleeps on a regular schedule and diapers get changed as necessary. This also meant that he would frustrate easily during those times when communication would be helpful and have himself some pretty big, but short, tantrums. After many discussions it was decided that he would benefit from being in a small preschool class. In Florida the rules are 11 two year olds per teacher and many centers will put 2 teachers in a room with up to 22 two year olds. While legal and fine for most kids, the larger scenario would actually be worse for Trevor's communication efforts.<br />
<br />
The center where Reagan will be attending VPK has one teacher and one assistant and 8-10 kids on any given day in the 2 year old room. Trevor's therapist deemed this perfect for him and felt he should start as soon as possible. I had also been told (by moms and teachers) that since Reagan had never been in a daycare setting that she should start at least a month before the actual VPK started so that she could have some time to adjust. I spoke to the director about possible start dates and she informed me that she had openings starting that next week and could take Trevor legally now since he was past 22 months of age even though she normally didn't start kids until they were already 2. After some internal agonizing and over-analyzing and talks with his therapist, both kids were set to start that coming Monday.<br />
<br />
Here is Reagan the morning of Day 1 - she was SO excited to be starting school!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzkZxb3vIi_mxyioz-CXkbItExdJ3NPI-3KGNXJFJcO6Q2ymC6xCwFLMgLDdiLQd7AXLGvKzBx0GhEo1r2L6vjAvb8oCOtQRQWaIilUfk52mgETzv_sqppjBHssLYen36t6ulWduQVP2b/s1600/School1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzkZxb3vIi_mxyioz-CXkbItExdJ3NPI-3KGNXJFJcO6Q2ymC6xCwFLMgLDdiLQd7AXLGvKzBx0GhEo1r2L6vjAvb8oCOtQRQWaIilUfk52mgETzv_sqppjBHssLYen36t6ulWduQVP2b/s320/School1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I couldn't get Trevor to stand still long enough for a morning Day 1 picture of him and of course getting out of the house in the morning with two kids and all their stuff took way longer than I anticipated - it always does! Drop off went great. Reagan happily went into her room and began to get acquainted and barely even said good-bye. In fact I do believe she shot me a look from across the room that said "don't you DARE embarrass me Mom!". Trevor happily trotted off to play with a group of little ones once we got him to his room and never looked back. I was happy that they were confident enough to not melt down but my mommy-heart was a little traumatized at the lack of their trauma. :-) They both got good reports and were happy to see me when I came to pick them up. It sure looked like they had fun:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqS3_1RQF5uTtwULwh1tQEfiogXtZeog5UC1__ESa9JSVXignRir4RYBjO8JCBtiKXxMrw_YxL0RGZ2HoP3wAy9xAV2U7kXNSuhUMOSR4eXYex53CQZwBpFFa8SD3Gicmc2Z95JiUda6V/s1600/School2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqS3_1RQF5uTtwULwh1tQEfiogXtZeog5UC1__ESa9JSVXignRir4RYBjO8JCBtiKXxMrw_YxL0RGZ2HoP3wAy9xAV2U7kXNSuhUMOSR4eXYex53CQZwBpFFa8SD3Gicmc2Z95JiUda6V/s320/School2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0i5VPn6BePZtGa_OfqjaKpZVEb0n2OcdyhdLCBXo6zwkRSDNczap8UZDVQdipHc-dQG4U4-i16Byoi5wPLJhCHKZupHOLUFMbi0nQPrXD5Mv4UYj9hixgfqTRrrTeDbOS7_yJ_4_97usY/s1600/School3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0i5VPn6BePZtGa_OfqjaKpZVEb0n2OcdyhdLCBXo6zwkRSDNczap8UZDVQdipHc-dQG4U4-i16Byoi5wPLJhCHKZupHOLUFMbi0nQPrXD5Mv4UYj9hixgfqTRrrTeDbOS7_yJ_4_97usY/s320/School3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Day 2 was more of the same - they both happily joined their classes with quick waves and hugs and kisses. Here they are on the morning of Day 2. I snapped Trevor's from his crib after getting him dressed so he couldn't run off without a picture!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkx6kJt_hP2xRGnzQEryJcWkBT4jYIX0BP1zRy09JdC-ctcE01P4mF-BCOuH06JXLiX9ykxS_Yaw8aPTlpTk5LeO2H7MJY-NU1fwBhPhh3_QdXbMFQD-v7IdINEGCzIP1x2Ow7WaaTanJw/s1600/School4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkx6kJt_hP2xRGnzQEryJcWkBT4jYIX0BP1zRy09JdC-ctcE01P4mF-BCOuH06JXLiX9ykxS_Yaw8aPTlpTk5LeO2H7MJY-NU1fwBhPhh3_QdXbMFQD-v7IdINEGCzIP1x2Ow7WaaTanJw/s320/School4.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgJrN-KOZvhccXFUcZXEOSCDHPPFI2JgiHFEmIqr9Mu-dgbmi9J4FeuMMYhGMxNv-vCojNAtDsc9AYsA1agBOiG-pmHE1pj0tUIgx6sYgYVDOp9tOHSANBm16Kf5MXtB3fYaZIqF6-k53/s1600/School5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgJrN-KOZvhccXFUcZXEOSCDHPPFI2JgiHFEmIqr9Mu-dgbmi9J4FeuMMYhGMxNv-vCojNAtDsc9AYsA1agBOiG-pmHE1pj0tUIgx6sYgYVDOp9tOHSANBm16Kf5MXtB3fYaZIqF6-k53/s320/School5.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
By Day 3 Trevor had caught on to the routine and started to cling and whine during drop-off. I knew he'd be fine after I made a quick exit but hearing him cry was not fun at all. By Day 4 Reagan had caught on and while getting ready in the morning she loudly announced "I HATE school!!!!". Ahh, so much for easy drop-offs. Both of them have adjusted now but it was a rough road for a bit. I'll save that for another post as well as Trevor's speech progress from school.Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-11094793052232622612013-04-25T20:35:00.001-04:002013-04-25T20:35:26.740-04:00TrevorWell my baby boy is almost 2! I can hardly believe it. He is such a joy and growing leaps and bounds, of course, and continues to be a pretty easy going little man. At his 18 month well baby check I knew there were going to be concerns. Even though he started on track verbally with early babble he kind of stalled. He was late to say his first real word - Eat - but he didn't continue to say it. Instead, everything was "Ma". Everything. Me, his dad, his sister, his cup, his pets, his toys, his bed, food - everything! When he wanted to express that he wanted or needed something he would only say "Ma" with an occasional "Mama" thrown in. <br />
<br />
I remembered counting up the number of words Reagan was saying at her 18 month appointment and quit counting when I was well past the number of words they hope they can say by that age. His one single word was not going to be good news to his doctor. At his appointment they gave me a sheet to fill out that had different questions that they use for an early autism screen. He missed 3 big ones - all somewhat related to communication. He did not have the desired number of words, he did not point to objects and he did not follow a point.<br />
<br />
His doctor spent lots of time with us (love her!) and decided that yes, he did have some communication related delays but that she would be surprised if he was actually autistic since he does have great eye contact, recognizes emotion, isn't repetitive other than age-appropriate repetition, etc. She referred us to Early Intervention for more testing. I was glad for the referral. I am the type of mom who is driven by information. If there is a problem, I want to know what it is, how to mitigate it or fix it, what we should be looking for in the future, etc. <br />
<br />
I was expecting some difficulty with Early Intervention only because it is a state funded program and I knew the program had to be understaffed with overworked people. I was pleasantly surprised when we quickly got an appointment (after some phone tag) for a worker to come assess him at home. She ran through a bunch of questions, observed Trevor just being him and then attempted to engage him in several simple tests with toys and commands. His worker felt he did need services and set us up for a more in-depth assessment with other therapists.<br />
<br />
We went down to a great looking DCF center (the waiting area was SO cool with tons of fun stuff for the kids!) and met with his worker and two therapists. They ran Trevor through some more tests with toys and commands and asked me questions throughout. After about half an hour they agreed he needed services and wrote up his report.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqOmjXkTw2GiWLQ2vGSHiwE3JlytDwHyI9wfWretRro1KmADFOtd62uwNsx2P46U6pmWuajpV8vIa_xh-Zimav3M0F4lUEvqcCMBJ2fAAnRhvsjTTT8H_1w29IwwJy2d7o80fZyCoD2QQ/s1600/603048_10151454650655428_369314755_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqOmjXkTw2GiWLQ2vGSHiwE3JlytDwHyI9wfWretRro1KmADFOtd62uwNsx2P46U6pmWuajpV8vIa_xh-Zimav3M0F4lUEvqcCMBJ2fAAnRhvsjTTT8H_1w29IwwJy2d7o80fZyCoD2QQ/s320/603048_10151454650655428_369314755_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FKbeHP14F8nPhFBAXHbCUGUOLCYfacWzqDI1X3yAMc4SjsNrCoxy_3puRhQhI6UNhEYYunyNhvOTyx9rsMmAmG6LEDAzj5KyI6VwBzeTVJiwLAC_rgDCdApn2a5BPYLUTn0UJ7pn4IhH/s1600/644171_10151454650540428_1363915400_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FKbeHP14F8nPhFBAXHbCUGUOLCYfacWzqDI1X3yAMc4SjsNrCoxy_3puRhQhI6UNhEYYunyNhvOTyx9rsMmAmG6LEDAzj5KyI6VwBzeTVJiwLAC_rgDCdApn2a5BPYLUTn0UJ7pn4IhH/s320/644171_10151454650540428_1363915400_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
For the scale they use, there are 5 categories. A child must score 75 or below in two or more areas or 70 or below in one area. Well Trevor ended up qualifying both ways. :-( He scored 71 in Academic/Cognitive (Playing, Thinking, Exploring), 70 in Self-Help/Adaptive Skills (Eating, Dressing and Toileting) and 59 in Receptive and Expressive Communication (Understanding and Communicating). I was not at all surprised at the Communication score but the other two did take me by surprise. The other two were mostly because he wouldn't transition during play when prompted (at all and would melt down when further attempts were made) and he didn't yet take his shoes off properly or use utensils in an age-appropriate manner (totally my fault on that one as I hadn't really ever given him the opportunity to practice). He was 20 months old at the time of his evaluation.<br />
<br />
Since then he has a therapist that comes for an hour once per week to work with him and give us ways to help him when she isn't here. His therapist is an incredible woman that we all like very, very much. We also enrolled him in preschool earlier this month to help with peer modeling and exposure to other people that he has to communicate with to express his needs since family tends to anticipate his needs and he never really needs to ask for anything (more on preschool in another post). He is making progress and we are thrilled! He now says "Ball" (his favorite), "Bye" and this week started saying his version of "Yellow" - it comes out el-LOOOOW. He also uses some signs - eat (of course!), please, all done and hi/bye. Overall we believe he just needed some extra help and motivation to communicate and opportunities to develop his other skills (he uses utensils now and tries to put on socks as well as takes off his shoes properly some of the time). We are looking forward to seeing how he progresses from here and what strides he will make from being in preschool. Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-7626004236517599802012-08-18T12:26:00.000-04:002012-08-18T12:26:01.372-04:00Still Here<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object id="BLOG_video-UPLOADING-0" class="BLOG_video_class" contentid="UPLOADING" width="320" height="266" ></object></div>
<br />
we are still here. busy as ever. trevor is now walking and he started at fourteen months old just like his big sister. reagan starts her second season of soccer in a couple weeks and she is very excited. i just cannot get over how quickly my babies are growing up. Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-72485121050013674992012-05-13T16:52:00.000-04:002012-05-13T16:52:56.710-04:00Happy Mother's DayWhat a day full of emotion in our household. There is absolute joy and wonderment at being the mommy of my two beautiful babies. Babies that I worried for many years I wouldn't get the chance to mother. I have no words to describe how wonderful motherhood feels and how deep my love flows for my daughter and my son. They are my entire world.<br />
<br />
There is also wistfulness as I spend the day 800 miles away from my own mother. We see each other several times a year and talk on the phone often but there is nothing like having your mom accessible in person daily. Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you very, very, very much!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxOfyuzMPcx742SC7nHVl2K8Cc1GsMAJiecYEYjREvdcvmq41ZJ6LusuXrQFVSrIEfhFuSyCtOCZ3bVP6yCcqFF4R0T7JeW2AZl92nJZUbcDuH2v8uC-R3oj06jzrLRwSkbaRNH1BrG_Q/s1600/DSC07077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxOfyuzMPcx742SC7nHVl2K8Cc1GsMAJiecYEYjREvdcvmq41ZJ6LusuXrQFVSrIEfhFuSyCtOCZ3bVP6yCcqFF4R0T7JeW2AZl92nJZUbcDuH2v8uC-R3oj06jzrLRwSkbaRNH1BrG_Q/s320/DSC07077.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We also have a weave of deep sadness in our home on this and other important holidays. My mother-in-law passed away a few weeks after Reagan was born. It was very sudden and unexpected and the unfairness of the timing cuts deep. She barely got to be MaMere (an informal French nickname for Grandma) before she was taken from us. We miss her very much.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJo-Ul0cPQogEbkQk9L232T0JfmsiOMMO1t_p8tRhEsjLP_rpgsfXSYa88jmZepAbEWR4AW70kLyWD5QJ4zGXceMZLv9baRCgrb1_LrCsH9bFsF89M7p5dXMBGbSkIOCVJMvxABWPvAfqP/s1600/44a_MaMere.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJo-Ul0cPQogEbkQk9L232T0JfmsiOMMO1t_p8tRhEsjLP_rpgsfXSYa88jmZepAbEWR4AW70kLyWD5QJ4zGXceMZLv9baRCgrb1_LrCsH9bFsF89M7p5dXMBGbSkIOCVJMvxABWPvAfqP/s320/44a_MaMere.JPG" width="272" /></a></div>
This is the balloon bouquet that we will release today in her memory. Tied to the balloons will be Happy Mother's Day wishes to rise up to heaven for her.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2N4VQHukwMl_G_GOsQ6IfXEDnLwxBYRiUbAH0uMpEb4N_IztIwpNCBMy37nIkvlyw82A7Khl47vJ94yl5QPWJb0HiNkzjmFk6sut1fY4wzA1roQF8dpZ9IPEMraVmqEhGopEP1E_PZst1/s1600/470665_10150949089875428_588330427_12278327_1460771807_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2N4VQHukwMl_G_GOsQ6IfXEDnLwxBYRiUbAH0uMpEb4N_IztIwpNCBMy37nIkvlyw82A7Khl47vJ94yl5QPWJb0HiNkzjmFk6sut1fY4wzA1roQF8dpZ9IPEMraVmqEhGopEP1E_PZst1/s320/470665_10150949089875428_588330427_12278327_1460771807_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Finally there is much gratitude and love to the woman who gave my children life and gave me the opportunity to be their mommy. Without her I wouldn't have the blessings I have today and I hope today is a good one for her. Our children will always know her love and for that I am especially thankful. Happy Mother's Day Stacey!<br />
<br />
As I celebrate my happiness and joy at being mommy, my heart never forgets not only their birthmom but also the thousands of women TTC, experiencing loss, waiting for a match, with babies born into heaven, with children estranged or missing, or otherwise in a place where this days brings more pain than joy. Many prayers for peace, comfort and happiness.Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-5595184334661962872012-03-23T12:51:00.000-04:002012-03-23T12:51:22.356-04:00Soccer MomSo last night I officially became a soccer mom! Ever since the 2010 World Cup in South Africa, when Reagan was about 18 months old, she has been interested in soccer. She had been playing on the floor with her toys one day when I clicked over to a match. She stopped what she was doing and began to watch intently. I was amazed that she was watching the ball movements during a wide shot of the field and I have to say I was also very impressed. After a few moments of watching, she stood up and went to find one of her big rubber balls. She brought it back in front of the TV and began to kick it around. It was a proud moment and I quickly texted my nieces and nephews (who also love soccer!) to tell them all about it. We always end up at a soccer game or two of theirs during our couple times a year trips up north to visit and Reagan ALWAYS asks to play soccer too every time we watch a game. <br />
<br />
The YMCA by us offers Pre-K soccer beginning at age 3 and since Reagan turned 3 in December she was able to sign up for the first time to play! The day we went for sign-ups she was very disappointed to learn that she wouldn't actually get to play that day and the poor thing had to wait an eternity (6 weeks!) for the first soccer event of the season. Well last night was a soccer clinic in preparation for practices that will start next week. She was SO excited to go and when we went to leave the house she let out a very loud and proud, "Let's <strong><u>DO</u></strong> this!" - complete with a wide half crouch and her little arms pumped up and out. It was ADORABLE! She was all smiles in the car on the way there.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSvAiTNMa1zdCLseIAInddgC049ExW9y85bjP0TB2vH9j1f65nDMiSaXgoSLyF_FEhxHP5CumT1_Pi7QDMxeBQey6FFPA3bvfCZwC1_uzWXvt7R6KsLYoMb0FK6PopNZ0IFO0fRTUvdxda/s1600/soccer1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSvAiTNMa1zdCLseIAInddgC049ExW9y85bjP0TB2vH9j1f65nDMiSaXgoSLyF_FEhxHP5CumT1_Pi7QDMxeBQey6FFPA3bvfCZwC1_uzWXvt7R6KsLYoMb0FK6PopNZ0IFO0fRTUvdxda/s320/soccer1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Once we got there she was slightly intimidated by alllll of the kids and coaches and noises but she went and got a ball and followed the other Pre-K kids to the practice square and listened semi-intently to the coaches as they explained different games they would play to help develop some skills. I was very proud of her because this is the first real structured activity she has ever had since she isn't in daycare. I honestly wasn't sure how she was going to act or react but she did great. One of the games they played was to dribble the ball and when the coaches yelled "freeze" the kids had to stop and put their foot on top of the ball. She thought this was pretty neat.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNt08_7txvzXRFCE1nDnEl_BxwXANsPK8fmQ07qiW-0jU0NwS6JIuC8CC7KBeaUa4kxXZBD80Nh3HzHhZ2lswC2XpMbzXImy1Xf54P7GDNOt9tJVfUDNqiaNx6CUUjDdxBtiURpaYTKpc/s1600/soccer2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNt08_7txvzXRFCE1nDnEl_BxwXANsPK8fmQ07qiW-0jU0NwS6JIuC8CC7KBeaUa4kxXZBD80Nh3HzHhZ2lswC2XpMbzXImy1Xf54P7GDNOt9tJVfUDNqiaNx6CUUjDdxBtiURpaYTKpc/s320/soccer2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>After about 45 minutes of different games and fun skills, soccer clinic was over. She played the whole time and while not always doing exactly what the activity of the moment was, she did always play with her ball and practice her dribbling. As a reward for doing such a great job and listening so well, I let her play on the playground for a bit after and even allowed her to play in the water at the splash pad. Here she is mad because they turned the water off for the night.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQJuOBjEc9QfJ57tOUfUQdqa6G-v2boPcBm70Rj3Ky6FpxBUGvd3HsEDuNadLFyZYBpQgZVMmipQwhEn6tXKBr5g7vycsiz4nMgny5KtP6t8ZHi9qeV9-Ci0scJtqvgrIvR9tZ2cd8_x56/s1600/soccer3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQJuOBjEc9QfJ57tOUfUQdqa6G-v2boPcBm70Rj3Ky6FpxBUGvd3HsEDuNadLFyZYBpQgZVMmipQwhEn6tXKBr5g7vycsiz4nMgny5KtP6t8ZHi9qeV9-Ci0scJtqvgrIvR9tZ2cd8_x56/s320/soccer3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Official practices start next week and games start in April. I am not one to be in a hurry for my babies to grow up but since they insist on it, I am so glad to finally be an official soccer mom! (Now all I need is a minivan - yes, I admit it - I do actually want one! Oh the sliding doors would be heaven!) So move over Mia Hamm - here comes my Reagan!Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-14557434032360365552012-03-09T14:59:00.000-05:002012-03-09T14:59:37.434-05:005QF<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It has been a while since I participated in 5 Question Friday but wanted to join in on the fun today! You can head on over to </span><a href="http://fivecrookedhalos.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">My Little Life</span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> if you want to play along too!</span><br />
<br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0e1029; line-height: 20px;">1.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Are you looking forward to the time change this weekend?</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Absolutely 100% positively NOT! I have always hated Spring Forward. I swear it makes me tired clear through until Fall Back! I really wish they would do away with it and just leave it one way or the other.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">2. A</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">re you getting the new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">iP</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ad</span>/would you want a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">iPad</span></span>?</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I actually would rather get a Tablet. I am not an iFan as I find there are certain things I can't do on iDevices that I can do on other devices and that makes me feel a little like I am part of a hostage situation.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">3. I</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">f money was not a problem, what is the one thing you would <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">splurge</span> on?</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Travel. There are so many places I want to show my children. I'd love to be able to one day say, oh you learned about Asia this semester in school? How about we go there for a tour during the next school break. I also love tucked away hidden jewels of places that aren't necessarily on the beaten path and have the time and money to go find them.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">4. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">How did you and the Mr. (or Mrs.) meet?</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Through friends of friends of friends I suppose. Technically it went like this - my BFF's ex-boyfriend's sister's husband's BFF's uncle's stepson. Got that?!</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">5. S</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">ummer</span></span> is right around the corner. Bikini or one-piece?</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Tank-ini. For sure. </span></span></span></div>Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-37383741142387391922012-03-09T14:28:00.002-05:002012-03-09T14:28:13.193-05:00100 Posts!How cool that my 100th post is my son's birth story! I think that is pretty neat!Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-84435559795681820182012-03-03T22:10:00.000-05:002012-03-03T22:10:10.886-05:00Where Has the Time Gone?! Birth Story - Finally!Well Trevor is 9 months and 1 week old today and it occurred to me that I hadn't yet posted his birth story! I guess now is as good a time as any. I do think though that part of me may have avoided this just a little in the early days because, well, it wasn't exactly what I had pictured it would be and that made me a little sad. No matter though. He arrived, he was/is gorgeous and is a healthy little man. <br />
<br />
As postings leading up to his birth (and Reagan's too) show, their birth mother does home births and has a history of interrupted labors. Basically what that means is the first stage of labor begins and then stops at some point before the second stage. In a hospital setting, if the mother is in full-term range, Pitocin is frequently used to continue labor. In a home setting, no interventions are normally done. The body is allowed to decide on its own when and if labor will progress. So, several times before his actual birth, labor began and then stopped.<br />
<br />
The day of his birth (May 25, 2011) started with the mid-wife's assistant going to the birth mother's house to check on things and see how she and Trevor were doing. She was going to do a membrane sweep to help things get moving but his head was a little high and she wasn't able to. Her parting words were - I don't think he's coming in the next few days. At this point the birth mother was 40 weeks and 2 days so there was still time for him to remain safely inside. Later that evening the birth mother called and said she had started minor contractions again and wanted to let me know. We all decided to wait and see if things progressed but I really didn't think they would. The midwife told her to call if the contractions got stronger and she was no longer able to talk through them.<br />
<br />
About an hour or so later the birth parents called again and said contractions were still present but the birth mother and I were talking and laughing together on the phone so we still weren't thinking he was coming anytime soon. I told them to call me if anything changed or if the midwife decided we should all head over. I then went back to working on some stuff for work that I wanted to complete before I took some time off for his birth. Just as I was finishing up the work, around 11:30 that night, the birth father called and said that the birth mother was extremely uncomfortable now and that I should probably come over. He said he was also calling the midwife to come as well. <br />
<br />
I put my work away, went to gather the baby bag and car seat and then went to the bathroom before I left. As I was in the bathroom, the phone rang again and the birth father said, "Her water just broke!" To which I immediately replied, "OH SHIT!" I lived only a few minutes from their house but I just knew I wouldn't get there in time. Her births are super fast once her water breaks. I swear those babies surf out! I flew out of the house and did about mach 4 on the roads there praying I wouldn't miss it and praying I wouldn't get pulled over on my way. Would have been hard to convince a police officer that I was having a baby any second!<br />
<br />
I pulled in their driveway a few moments after the midwife herself did and my car clock said 11:59pm. I grabbed the baby bag and sprinted through the door. As I entered the birth father called out, "Dawn?" I said, "Yes, it's me. Is he here?" As I walked to their bedroom he answered, "Yes, he arrived at 11:55. You just missed it." I was heart broken that I had missed it and really beat myself up for weeks afterward about not having gone over sooner just in case. But as soon as I entered the room and saw him, I was filled with nothing but love at the first sight of him.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhudncgLAfiOV3cI5JNfNhCvUuAuDJLuFFmmiqFTF_I8cycWXDczkg0-1wXKkIQKeNT0s39hD4JEG9lgRGix_ILzAoX86xT4CZJFF_Wf3oMRZC14TVRnJX3HnLeAVShPe9eoyyHwqR01J4q/s1600/DSC05665-a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhudncgLAfiOV3cI5JNfNhCvUuAuDJLuFFmmiqFTF_I8cycWXDczkg0-1wXKkIQKeNT0s39hD4JEG9lgRGix_ILzAoX86xT4CZJFF_Wf3oMRZC14TVRnJX3HnLeAVShPe9eoyyHwqR01J4q/s320/DSC05665-a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>As it turned out, none of us made it in time! The midwife and her assistant got there just after he had made his grand entrance into the world. She had just cut the cord before I walked in. She couldn't wait for me because apparently at some point during the pregnancy he had flipped and turned enough to knot his cord. We all were fearfully amazed by this and said some extra special prayers of thanks that his knotted cord did not cause him any dire issues.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FuFIyGa8pd_FKZmmknwEmc1pbyq4HQgVCUAQ_LqHRd36RMufLAoOPhfbea9WmjG5vqFtV3o3nZUSob9Kq2dd9Q4Qo02wDxz2yWtD3-i2lpTY7y0QNn8gCc_DOLw2B05acJsmpJ36Lbj5/s1600/DSC05663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FuFIyGa8pd_FKZmmknwEmc1pbyq4HQgVCUAQ_LqHRd36RMufLAoOPhfbea9WmjG5vqFtV3o3nZUSob9Kq2dd9Q4Qo02wDxz2yWtD3-i2lpTY7y0QNn8gCc_DOLw2B05acJsmpJ36Lbj5/s320/DSC05663.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>The picture is a little blurry but that right there is a complete perfect knot. The could-have-beens are so scary! Thank God it wasn't too tight to allow him nourishment.<br />
<br />
We unbundled him so that he could be thoroughly checked over. He didn't appreciate that.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyK3tJn-9een5ZkJiw6PVVscuGga9jTCpFrK9MoNjz8oXMV4YUdd9Up7_vowNLCc5likO5cS7510DKpAxM7xBpRgMDmwp58z5bi21IKMZ6cca-POMJ0va69cv8Pa-kUZEYHWcDgBEjTqy/s1600/DSC05670-a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyK3tJn-9een5ZkJiw6PVVscuGga9jTCpFrK9MoNjz8oXMV4YUdd9Up7_vowNLCc5likO5cS7510DKpAxM7xBpRgMDmwp58z5bi21IKMZ6cca-POMJ0va69cv8Pa-kUZEYHWcDgBEjTqy/s320/DSC05670-a.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
He scored a 10 on his Apgar! And all the rest of his stats were great too although there was one potential concern noted that we checked out over the next couple of weeks. More on that in another post.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcHSDj5zM9PtpDmHrrRr2ya-tkdCsE9ck0pNt9yxs2pk1GaVGERX7n2V7ITAFHGDOceNxqcMMOwSDq4nEejp0ljNXdXO-I-0lwAps1EyuZEtVGOZAyYDmL63f4IQTbVOfcLcPMJiBtMca/s1600/DSC05682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcHSDj5zM9PtpDmHrrRr2ya-tkdCsE9ck0pNt9yxs2pk1GaVGERX7n2V7ITAFHGDOceNxqcMMOwSDq4nEejp0ljNXdXO-I-0lwAps1EyuZEtVGOZAyYDmL63f4IQTbVOfcLcPMJiBtMca/s320/DSC05682.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVvKXfCxeLvznn42neVmzJnOY_LDXbBT4INyPzL2Ht-LyXNFfeJGUT98gaCIJkKTlRADTYkRxeOQk2O7hMIF3G0CDkSeKsT533yF34fvtzO1yAB1Jv_fbAhYmoCc7hyphenhyphenVCjy4C1WYpOBCv/s1600/DSC05695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVvKXfCxeLvznn42neVmzJnOY_LDXbBT4INyPzL2Ht-LyXNFfeJGUT98gaCIJkKTlRADTYkRxeOQk2O7hMIF3G0CDkSeKsT533yF34fvtzO1yAB1Jv_fbAhYmoCc7hyphenhyphenVCjy4C1WYpOBCv/s320/DSC05695.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Then it was time for measurements. I just love the way this midwife weighs the newborns. 7lbs 10oz - big boy for this tiny birth mother!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2fWgmvu82EdMuwV_CLySa5nDd0PL6jfvKrtN37oXSgZ9c2XuLmvZbNX5cx3dzzyS3VqvZj-a0pF5GSuE8CtK24KF5umxVFfOS8RI3-RceP-Ki2l5o6VvixJtMTUckhq3CVmWQnmkyJl8N/s1600/DSC05672-a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2fWgmvu82EdMuwV_CLySa5nDd0PL6jfvKrtN37oXSgZ9c2XuLmvZbNX5cx3dzzyS3VqvZj-a0pF5GSuE8CtK24KF5umxVFfOS8RI3-RceP-Ki2l5o6VvixJtMTUckhq3CVmWQnmkyJl8N/s320/DSC05672-a.jpg" width="119" /></a></div><br />
His length was 20 inches long. Just 1/2 an inch taller than Reagan was at birth.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJczAejQp6PgDC3Rf7nmKcuZ09JPYhFrIGPtp_mxz16JAtqTFefpISAltfkNCNU_wg-b9lxgZCf39S8pZx4yiBCZyysIo5EN1WmdrdMSNwDP67I_YFc3i-1z5uKlVNjAbZBVIc-X1LF1rO/s1600/DSC05692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJczAejQp6PgDC3Rf7nmKcuZ09JPYhFrIGPtp_mxz16JAtqTFefpISAltfkNCNU_wg-b9lxgZCf39S8pZx4yiBCZyysIo5EN1WmdrdMSNwDP67I_YFc3i-1z5uKlVNjAbZBVIc-X1LF1rO/s320/DSC05692.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After everything was recorded it was time to get him dressed and spend some time snuggling while we waited for him to be released.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4oly49OxIAmwJohWApbmFJQpVxi7yaJ_mAH3TEwof8405XvIkBI_wIUF2oqn2sMNseR_BVWX19xmRZvroKrz7H_I6XVo2bVeCY0HZ3BT4pMonPQRnYMN1mr5LQfsYUlKwzGZN4K58cAE/s1600/DSC05701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4oly49OxIAmwJohWApbmFJQpVxi7yaJ_mAH3TEwof8405XvIkBI_wIUF2oqn2sMNseR_BVWX19xmRZvroKrz7H_I6XVo2bVeCY0HZ3BT4pMonPQRnYMN1mr5LQfsYUlKwzGZN4K58cAE/s320/DSC05701.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyx3UjcTSdAFsFMLCXuMD1sNvDj5AZuXpYqaqLye_W0Ojw1ueb_xZ72Zj4YTYpzfmGvrnykB4ol1xVnzO7EWsCF9seaGt5GxfAqZKW-ZGmtMQ_ETlA0I4bVmLMPjKcJJz2Ds7nJ6HcyS2a/s1600/DSC05705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyx3UjcTSdAFsFMLCXuMD1sNvDj5AZuXpYqaqLye_W0Ojw1ueb_xZ72Zj4YTYpzfmGvrnykB4ol1xVnzO7EWsCF9seaGt5GxfAqZKW-ZGmtMQ_ETlA0I4bVmLMPjKcJJz2Ds7nJ6HcyS2a/s320/DSC05705.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bYAcHmiuRzGgjPu_PLFNUtGLirbvYVeJJCpTcXxPovoj4pUV-vMbG6Fz4l4d2YIr_xHibn329bPknmP_ZWGcaXqUQ8_O9iqKazcdL3vojtQzdoz7oAz6024elzHESDDVh80M6sOiMOru/s1600/DSC05717-a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bYAcHmiuRzGgjPu_PLFNUtGLirbvYVeJJCpTcXxPovoj4pUV-vMbG6Fz4l4d2YIr_xHibn329bPknmP_ZWGcaXqUQ8_O9iqKazcdL3vojtQzdoz7oAz6024elzHESDDVh80M6sOiMOru/s320/DSC05717-a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Then, at 3 1/2 hours old, he was officially released by the midwife and we packed up to head home. After a stop off at Aunt Dawn's house (she lives down the street and arrived at the birth parent's house shortly after I did), I came home to a silent house because in my mad rush to get out the door I had neglected to tell my husband (or my brother who was staying with us at the time) that Trevor was about to be born! Ooops! My husband wouldn't have been there for the birth anyway out of respect for the birth mother's lady parts privacy.<br />
<br />
I took the few hours before the house woke up to stare at my precious son and whisper sweet nothings to him and marvel that he was finally here. When my husband stirred towards morning I walked in to the room with Trevor and boy was that a moment of confusion for him! He had to blink a few times before he realized that I was, in fact, standing in front of him with our son.<br />
<br />
Once Reagan woke up I took him into her room for the introduction. She was quite underwhelmed and matter of fact about it and promptly asked for breakfast! It took her a little bit to wake up and get excited about him. Their first picture together shows her level of interest. LOL<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSAo2Eqrc0oY4YGkqiTQIIDbHMTLFDabnJ5AIPWhL92TSmDRCeRiAOndUzE2KfDf-ISptjiUDEcnKhvUu-XjpxjMINMai5BMAD3_j5GakKNMluZuvaRYoeMmMdg-CAEDDagGBK7R3oz1A/s1600/DSC05737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSAo2Eqrc0oY4YGkqiTQIIDbHMTLFDabnJ5AIPWhL92TSmDRCeRiAOndUzE2KfDf-ISptjiUDEcnKhvUu-XjpxjMINMai5BMAD3_j5GakKNMluZuvaRYoeMmMdg-CAEDDagGBK7R3oz1A/s320/DSC05737.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>It didn't take her too terribly long though for her to start asking about him and getting interested and telling me that he was 'so tute' (cute).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ18qRidoK0JP7WvD_RbtQtp6tHJ0N_PMudCVBhBiSkGVj5t2MLJQPljSD_-kQDWogkbnCPC8_Ic9oJ2JJyzvXo-CvvmFbkGpJ7VdSZuIO7T5oHQQA3ITRvw9bdLkbn_GVQm7mJGziWjAW/s1600/DSC05739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ18qRidoK0JP7WvD_RbtQtp6tHJ0N_PMudCVBhBiSkGVj5t2MLJQPljSD_-kQDWogkbnCPC8_Ic9oJ2JJyzvXo-CvvmFbkGpJ7VdSZuIO7T5oHQQA3ITRvw9bdLkbn_GVQm7mJGziWjAW/s320/DSC05739.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>She has been a great big sister ever since and we are so thankful that our family is now blissfully complete! So while I was sad for a while that I missed his actual entrance into the world, I am very thankful that I was there quickly after and got to bring home my wonderful, perfect, gorgeous son! We love you so much Trevor!<br />
<br />
Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-87407649220411430982011-07-29T17:29:00.000-04:002011-07-29T17:29:01.619-04:00Pictures, Pictures and More PicturesI finally got around to getting professional pictures done of the two babies together. There was a special deal being run in our area and I jumped on it and promptly proceeded to spend way more than I wanted to anyway. Oh well. Here are the results from that session. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVB4HhUOZMdtWL14rp6i9pBc91gnCl0_SMukSrdNv-R3icDwpWsHrpPwSPvKx8J7Ot1AHp9iPYTsRgeJOS8GbsqoVYAve50S5WFbdmydrH-ruf7gxEf4BxLeoZl7cGA7m-lEYmI_qvmLok/s1600/R_T_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVB4HhUOZMdtWL14rp6i9pBc91gnCl0_SMukSrdNv-R3icDwpWsHrpPwSPvKx8J7Ot1AHp9iPYTsRgeJOS8GbsqoVYAve50S5WFbdmydrH-ruf7gxEf4BxLeoZl7cGA7m-lEYmI_qvmLok/s320/R_T_0001.jpg" t$="true" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAdNxLxmtabEZtYGWBqnPqvrhJjw76Uc7x7EkF55m8WmuTniZ7Y5ytiLWqNWnI4sLl_Z91D4sQ9xvndU8jxmJSDpTvXvWJjlgk1j9kszLbY1Xsl27N64R2w9MqI8PFRhaB3wgrLKURp_oy/s1600/img_0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAdNxLxmtabEZtYGWBqnPqvrhJjw76Uc7x7EkF55m8WmuTniZ7Y5ytiLWqNWnI4sLl_Z91D4sQ9xvndU8jxmJSDpTvXvWJjlgk1j9kszLbY1Xsl27N64R2w9MqI8PFRhaB3wgrLKURp_oy/s320/img_0003.jpg" t$="true" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9SzX0AmG-ZQ24DZDMe_lHRkybqNLkb9Kzs11Q2AtcwhppeFRo_pqBrHglS75MnTe_OGOoYom8u7sne9yuAoH3qYEdvtdc3A-MLwtkYAuLoO6pdGediTR9YiWwTwvGZFfrnuCAnPeTjPX/s1600/R_T_0006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9SzX0AmG-ZQ24DZDMe_lHRkybqNLkb9Kzs11Q2AtcwhppeFRo_pqBrHglS75MnTe_OGOoYom8u7sne9yuAoH3qYEdvtdc3A-MLwtkYAuLoO6pdGediTR9YiWwTwvGZFfrnuCAnPeTjPX/s320/R_T_0006.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcX1slPZq20VNs1HcqS-E-W1u7S7Bu0EC8_6vW4Af8jI3IKrVit880ZRM6_04_uodBcS-mN4ugqrYsOzKdijuldUsb6tpwnSLOxutVm-FE3_koQDro5CKgJIjwrSCqMhqVWTnN5h_gtG36/s1600/img_0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcX1slPZq20VNs1HcqS-E-W1u7S7Bu0EC8_6vW4Af8jI3IKrVit880ZRM6_04_uodBcS-mN4ugqrYsOzKdijuldUsb6tpwnSLOxutVm-FE3_koQDro5CKgJIjwrSCqMhqVWTnN5h_gtG36/s320/img_0008.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_MW4SfA8xUYH6YwVKLlJYtDzF1aHsVjnHb_HkagmBrrpqCF5aQhqu9fKgDpnQJ0f_b_zDWT922-CAJ5JriirjyVg8QEw0XJMM32H2o0dfnqbnUhpzW5uwtMX_3x7oc6hjgCy1A2xSLjn/s1600/img_0005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_MW4SfA8xUYH6YwVKLlJYtDzF1aHsVjnHb_HkagmBrrpqCF5aQhqu9fKgDpnQJ0f_b_zDWT922-CAJ5JriirjyVg8QEw0XJMM32H2o0dfnqbnUhpzW5uwtMX_3x7oc6hjgCy1A2xSLjn/s320/img_0005.jpg" t$="true" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqMjcJ7EiP2n6sCNJ0DyYtMiuB5AaiJFvmcQglhsf2T5jLE2H5xK6vDZyho4R2oZkjLEpZU34PhwA7i9Jz8NlYWYG1ovZTRxaZPsxDkyCdSW_2TB7p_oTbI9dIfNFJtOpjB7mj1HmzPwd/s1600/img_0009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqMjcJ7EiP2n6sCNJ0DyYtMiuB5AaiJFvmcQglhsf2T5jLE2H5xK6vDZyho4R2oZkjLEpZU34PhwA7i9Jz8NlYWYG1ovZTRxaZPsxDkyCdSW_2TB7p_oTbI9dIfNFJtOpjB7mj1HmzPwd/s320/img_0009.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGAQ5WR6x1h7yQq-hccMITuo1E-VfIoIikBZSO3_i4fOBWwYJJfoszISYKadDfffRyggnnPwvj7SjeD_b8-fAlOEOGnkmbfGlM18sTa_VFYoebarDROmepTnt8VOq3biLxF-ptEy1nsoCv/s1600/img_0010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGAQ5WR6x1h7yQq-hccMITuo1E-VfIoIikBZSO3_i4fOBWwYJJfoszISYKadDfffRyggnnPwvj7SjeD_b8-fAlOEOGnkmbfGlM18sTa_VFYoebarDROmepTnt8VOq3biLxF-ptEy1nsoCv/s320/img_0010.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIqg6AjC3Usjaev7BGLIc75OWzkwGnDOZ4VLl11ZLCJWom8kPkohju9Yy-v6bpQ3dl0T_hE2iEzPDF27snZ752R7Ii9dtrD2N5QACFcchSJBf0H3c7Y71I3lb0rIatkKOJlews219DY2Y/s1600/img_0011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIqg6AjC3Usjaev7BGLIc75OWzkwGnDOZ4VLl11ZLCJWom8kPkohju9Yy-v6bpQ3dl0T_hE2iEzPDF27snZ752R7Ii9dtrD2N5QACFcchSJBf0H3c7Y71I3lb0rIatkKOJlews219DY2Y/s320/img_0011.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa9UxoFHYB3uGYUGtK0fZzQQLyL2g6as316lNlKwnLjnRcklw_UAzeThVgU-U6D9ohMdRpTMkzTULvpgfKbN7MN6bCppwxnDYaOGW9MJpyv29FqRnC6CP5uLedD8zMUEDmOFkXcVk9Pp-/s1600/img_0013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa9UxoFHYB3uGYUGtK0fZzQQLyL2g6as316lNlKwnLjnRcklw_UAzeThVgU-U6D9ohMdRpTMkzTULvpgfKbN7MN6bCppwxnDYaOGW9MJpyv29FqRnC6CP5uLedD8zMUEDmOFkXcVk9Pp-/s320/img_0013.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXdLB5-ia9TUMvFhKqJW-dyCrCTrHqhzs93gctPMe_Y15kR2lBXVc5YVybHt4OpY1uFr1ptNRWKWVqV8z9V2Yy-qWTa2G_9CIaJ1FwfDFqGsdHWAkF58AFNb1r3B64gwu-0F6taTntJFV8/s1600/img_0014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXdLB5-ia9TUMvFhKqJW-dyCrCTrHqhzs93gctPMe_Y15kR2lBXVc5YVybHt4OpY1uFr1ptNRWKWVqV8z9V2Yy-qWTa2G_9CIaJ1FwfDFqGsdHWAkF58AFNb1r3B64gwu-0F6taTntJFV8/s320/img_0014.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WvAVHe92fD8krscKFPC5AcCJh7L5XiqfF-wLXzaFYN9DWKo6d_5xwiAOfPl12OohgDxhgTQeLPG5UFGNb9MxgQI6UawUkM8tjBe34VnXU4YX1CqNTeC5eXJY2XjYaL4PFwVybN7BbnHT/s1600/img_0015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WvAVHe92fD8krscKFPC5AcCJh7L5XiqfF-wLXzaFYN9DWKo6d_5xwiAOfPl12OohgDxhgTQeLPG5UFGNb9MxgQI6UawUkM8tjBe34VnXU4YX1CqNTeC5eXJY2XjYaL4PFwVybN7BbnHT/s320/img_0015.jpg" t$="true" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGy8ZyUvBKn9x7OjOr9aLIdQfjlbg0A6HeR2YsMmxO3hQVpRk8CP7nh_mi-wJv9KCjZ7CP_68rbXp-6TQWFA_EoPJ9MmqSCb3SgtGVzYDjLEtbWo7xq88wlZDuNACKtWSWbIfPgVaVfi1/s1600/img_0016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGy8ZyUvBKn9x7OjOr9aLIdQfjlbg0A6HeR2YsMmxO3hQVpRk8CP7nh_mi-wJv9KCjZ7CP_68rbXp-6TQWFA_EoPJ9MmqSCb3SgtGVzYDjLEtbWo7xq88wlZDuNACKtWSWbIfPgVaVfi1/s320/img_0016.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItpTO8Ke_WEGR4mDbSbwa1drLD7qUbCh7L2lHnRTAzFyyruxgIGdr8dghN4VDOirecKLD3kP-MNQO9eJkGu-OcAGcsclMOWZoixa4Jfz1YZQd0aWzcB6BnKEN2QdmU4XvS3bhb0mVbC4h/s1600/img_0017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItpTO8Ke_WEGR4mDbSbwa1drLD7qUbCh7L2lHnRTAzFyyruxgIGdr8dghN4VDOirecKLD3kP-MNQO9eJkGu-OcAGcsclMOWZoixa4Jfz1YZQd0aWzcB6BnKEN2QdmU4XvS3bhb0mVbC4h/s320/img_0017.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLpoHaR3rQKr-gpd_1AKnnMS7Eaf_ZmovtRpiu8MCAWnyDIQHZGQFxFhYfcXNDKw0qiN9fI_Fo58wpaisGJe0QPExD2bACjQNzbAcjdfaxBkqbqQmkgScvNIxfl0fnO_N7SiMTo7ufJDV/s1600/img_0021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLpoHaR3rQKr-gpd_1AKnnMS7Eaf_ZmovtRpiu8MCAWnyDIQHZGQFxFhYfcXNDKw0qiN9fI_Fo58wpaisGJe0QPExD2bACjQNzbAcjdfaxBkqbqQmkgScvNIxfl0fnO_N7SiMTo7ufJDV/s320/img_0021.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT5TVuw9yjntXH0YQmD4QzKCyc1OH1tTKtta4sshxwpjm5LA0O7vayVbjTbVMLMrK7QDwCRDr8DVYYgJq-tgYoZ3Cc-hXQpX_-b36wLpiDO_0TAmTASQGWBdAPaSw0ou7yPH21ErROCb9y/s1600/T_0020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT5TVuw9yjntXH0YQmD4QzKCyc1OH1tTKtta4sshxwpjm5LA0O7vayVbjTbVMLMrK7QDwCRDr8DVYYgJq-tgYoZ3Cc-hXQpX_-b36wLpiDO_0TAmTASQGWBdAPaSw0ou7yPH21ErROCb9y/s320/T_0020.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWZEMmzc9LsTJW-zYG6qhkqJdACpVIOMyvfCNvO54B9u0s3lki6S8LqXFqM7H0vj-7iRmGBUbxiKG0jMSnvuUVjifKaI_n2uHZ95AKdQYsUeeHTUceGmUWbeTDMPPOmOu8dRnYDOiq8d1/s1600/T_0018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWZEMmzc9LsTJW-zYG6qhkqJdACpVIOMyvfCNvO54B9u0s3lki6S8LqXFqM7H0vj-7iRmGBUbxiKG0jMSnvuUVjifKaI_n2uHZ95AKdQYsUeeHTUceGmUWbeTDMPPOmOu8dRnYDOiq8d1/s320/T_0018.jpg" t$="true" width="213" /></a></div>I know I am biased but my gosh these children are beautiful! :-)Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-32710590416032351102011-07-01T17:50:00.000-04:002011-07-01T17:50:32.224-04:00FINALLY Bought a Carrier...Well after changing my mind 853,429 times, I <strong><em>finally </em></strong>bought a carrier. We've already been on several outings since Trevor's birth where I wished I had a comfortable carrier to use. I tried using the used Bjorn I got when Reagan was born and hated it just as much this time as I did back then. Then I tried my Mei Tei carrier and remembered why it too got packed away. I had already given away my slings since I hated them THAT much right from the first attempt to use them over two years ago (mostly for the same reason that most slings are not recommended for use - it always looked like Reagan was smushed in them and having trouble trying to breathe - too scary for me!)<br />
<br />
Anyway, back in <a href="http://mom2reagan.blogspot.com/2011/04/36-weeks-today-registry-info-as.html">this post</a> I thought for sure I had found my dream carrier and that my mind was made up. Well up until I actually buy something that I consider a large purchase, I research it to death. So, during one of those many mind changes, I had decided that here in hot Florida, I wanted an Ergo Sport...in blue. Black seemed too hot and the red seemed to obnoxious. Then I decided I really wanted to touch and try some of them before <em>really</em> deciding. Off to <a href="http://www.macrobaby.com/">Macro Baby</a> I went. If you live near or ever visit Orlando and you have babies, toddlers, are expecting or know someone with any of those, you HAVE to check out this store! They carry many European brands and have all of the high end brands for sale in the store for you to touch, try, see in person before you decide to spend the money, or just to drool, on them (like the gorgeous and sweet mac-daddy honest to goodness baby pram - for the low, low price of $1,200! - but man is it perty!)<br />
<br />
Okay, back to my point. I tried on many of the soft-side carrier options available on the market and found out that I truly did like the way the Ergo felt the best out of all of them. And of the 3 Ergo versions, I was pretty convinced I like the Sport version the best for our hot weather. Gift cards in hand I searched through all of the Ergos in stock and could not find a blue Sport - all they had were red and black. Dejected I left without my carrier to see if I could find one on Ebay (not sure why I didn't just order from their site). Bid and lost a few and kept researching in the meantime. I read some more on the differences between the Sport and the Performance and after reading many user reviews and having tried on the Sport, I finally decided the Performance was actually the better one for our hot climate. Probably. <br />
<br />
Back to Macro Baby I went, put on a Performance, plopped Reagan in it as my tester (as I had done previously on all the others) and walked around the store to see what I thought. She clearly loved this carrier from the moment I put her in it (not so much with some of the others I had tried before) and I was very pleased with how comfortable it felt. Gift cards in hand I took the carrier to the register and am now the proud owner of an awesome green - my favorite color! - Ergo Performance carrier. I can't wait to take them out in it this weekend! (so far I have just carried them around in the house). Hmmm...what to research next...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvyOLbZOQKdDrlsL15NXqXcQtcpfnFuHrOvNqKyKQ2UboyUG7VTweYQm0jmhS0QD69Ix7iK_Fmi-iY3zsIi3hv44omQxe3KJmkpSo9-ZOADLBHLnxoa2pS5xNrHArgUaKzD8_Uk8zv9ft/s1600/ergo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvyOLbZOQKdDrlsL15NXqXcQtcpfnFuHrOvNqKyKQ2UboyUG7VTweYQm0jmhS0QD69Ix7iK_Fmi-iY3zsIi3hv44omQxe3KJmkpSo9-ZOADLBHLnxoa2pS5xNrHArgUaKzD8_Uk8zv9ft/s320/ergo.jpg" width="248" /></a></div>Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-950336247607397482011-06-08T00:01:00.000-04:002011-06-08T00:01:18.401-04:00Wordless Wednesday - Sibling Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHqbgjG2jkjvulBT6XfaepYNaG1CSzvv6IFvbt03F6AuY-LraBBjSRD0R4p4Ns_fNRr5wOhBMdFghIkjnmGsjCr9rzrq27SeHfL55K62RmOSwUXrFRBm_ftt7sz-9L5nZlpjCKoqACjbnx/s1600/DSC05739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHqbgjG2jkjvulBT6XfaepYNaG1CSzvv6IFvbt03F6AuY-LraBBjSRD0R4p4Ns_fNRr5wOhBMdFghIkjnmGsjCr9rzrq27SeHfL55K62RmOSwUXrFRBm_ftt7sz-9L5nZlpjCKoqACjbnx/s320/DSC05739.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Reagan and Trevor after she woke up to find that her baby brother had arrived. :-)Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-65845280611354025212011-05-30T00:03:00.000-04:002011-05-30T00:03:38.100-04:00He's Here!!!A longer post about his birth is coming but I wanted to get this up while I had a brief moment. <br />
<br />
Born May 25, 2011<br />
11:55 PM<br />
7 lbs 10 oz<br />
20 inches long<br />
<br />
Perfect and beautiful in every way.<br />
<br />
Our precious son, Trevor Michael. :-)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb8Pd2VHCug4_aReOhusDkcZQ26Z4c9cfOSD1ueIQnr7XR3j2JEpTGnCi4pbt-Yxf9LrzPEYACrKAfJlVqLhVN2uvzveNSFvwve3qBYMB0vRo0Uy57INy3AoEpg5lbw3Q7lox_DGM_-JPF/s1600/250355_10150257601565428_588330427_9373129_2812593_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb8Pd2VHCug4_aReOhusDkcZQ26Z4c9cfOSD1ueIQnr7XR3j2JEpTGnCi4pbt-Yxf9LrzPEYACrKAfJlVqLhVN2uvzveNSFvwve3qBYMB0vRo0Uy57INy3AoEpg5lbw3Q7lox_DGM_-JPF/s320/250355_10150257601565428_588330427_9373129_2812593_n.jpg" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div>(More pictures to come!)Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-57715144216405118102011-05-23T16:28:00.000-04:002011-05-23T16:28:58.692-04:00Dear Baby: Today is your Due Date!I cannot believe his due date is here! I still remember when the birth mother called to let us know she was expecting again. Today seemed so far away then but it really has come quickly. Our birth mother is still contracting on an irregular basis so it doesn't look like he is going to be a punctual one - which is perfectly fine because no one in our family is! Tomorrow the birth mother will be requesting a membrane sweep from the midwife and if the midwife is able to get there to do it then we will sit back and see if that helps things along. All I know is that his Grandma-to-be must be awfully relieved that he is now out of Taurus range!<br />
<br />
Stay tuned.... Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-37782386815639022962011-05-20T13:52:00.000-04:002011-05-20T13:52:16.749-04:00I Rocked My Baby Last Night...My first baby. The one that was so nosy from just a few weeks old that she could barely stand to be cuddled and rocked. The one who used to wiggle and squirm when I tried to make rocking and reading a nightly ritual. The one who never seemed to enjoy it very much because she was just too busy and curious about her world. <br />
<br />
Well last night she had a crying spell in her crib. She almost always goes to bed without a peep and she did at first last night but then stood in her crib later crying pitifully and begging us to let her out. We told her it was nighty-night time and to go to sleep and we'd see her in the morning but she wasn't having any of it and she wasn't calming down. Since this is unusual for her I decided to pick her up to comfort her. As I was pacing her floor with her she would vise grip my neck and climb my body each time we got near her crib. I asked her if she wanted me to rock her and got back a pitiful yes for an answer. <br />
<br />
I took her into my room where the rocker is, gave her a blankie and sat in the darkness rocking my sweet baby girl. Her whole body instantly relaxed and she stayed snuggled into me completely content. It was pure bliss! We both enjoyed the quiet closeness and a bit later she asked for her bed and went right to sleep. <br />
<br />
I love my baby girl!Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-26399677009999085842011-05-16T17:38:00.000-04:002011-05-16T17:38:42.060-04:0039 Weeks Today!Our birth mother is 39 weeks pregnant today! I had to laugh at the ticker message that says - "Our baby is launch ready. Curled up with legs on the chest and knees against the nose." Today was the last launch of the space shuttle Endeavor so that was a cute coincidence. I was disappointed that it was too cloudy to see the launch from where I was but glad it went off safely. I am really, really, really going to miss the shuttle program. I've often jokingly threatened to go stow-away on a shuttle before launch and I have been known to say that if I ever win the Lotto I am having the check made out to the Russian Space Agency so I can hitch a ride to space! Aviation and space have long been special loves for me.<br />
<br />
Tonight/tomorrow morning is the full moon for May. Maybe the moon can help make today the last Endeavor launch out of this world and the launch of our son into this world! Only time will tell. Stay tuned...Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-31323039175262261552011-05-09T14:36:00.002-04:002011-05-09T15:24:29.713-04:0038 Weeks Today!!!Our birth mother is 38 weeks pregnant today! She's been in various states of prodromal labor for the past week. There was a period of high activity of contractions on Monday the 2nd and then again on Friday the 6th and we are just patiently waiting for that to move into active labor. He will come when he is ready and while I am beyond excited to meet him, I am also taking the time to cherish my remaining days as a mother of one. :-)<br />
<br />
I hope everyone had a great Mother's Day. Mine was perfect. My husband got up with Reagan and kept her occupied outdoors while I slept until 12:30pm! I can't even remember the last time I slept that late! It felt wonderful because I was exhausted but then I had that sluggish feeling to get over from sleeping so long. Lunch and cards were waiting for me (because I insisted no gifts!) and my husband had set up the new <a href="http://www.walmart.com/ip/My-Sunshine-Deluxe-Family-Inflatable-Pool/15572055">inflatable pool</a> for Reagan to play in. We all ate lunch and I lounged around catching up on some television while Reagan napped. After nap we all went in the pool and played for hours until we realized it was way past dinnertime. I decided on Chinese takeout (which I could live off of - alternating with Mexican of course) since it was too late for our original plans and by then Reagan was so exhausted she was asking "Go bed? Go bed?". It was an awesome day - did I mention my husband did ALL of the laundry in the house? Washed, dried, folded AND put away - I always struggle with the put away part. So, yeah, it was a wonderful Mother's Day for me.<br />
<br />
Oh and I am hopping again today! Check it out.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://www.kdbuggie.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1044.photobucket.com/albums/b441/kshisley/minglemondayblogbutton-2.png" /></a></span></div>Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-70343574284889241772011-05-06T12:15:00.000-04:002011-05-06T12:15:49.700-04:005 Question FridayWoohoo! The weekend is here! We don't have any major plans yet except for going to hang out with one of my <a href="http://www.thelifeofrylie.com/">BFFs</a> on her back porch (complete with pool and mac-daddy swingset!) on Saturday evening. Hoping that her awesome hubby decides he wants to watch all the kids in the pool while the mommies talk so that I don't have to put on a bathing suit. LOL For some reason I don't mind wearing a suit in mass public situations (beach, water park, etc.) but on smaller scales I get a little (okay a lot) self conscious. <br />
<br />
The rest of the weekend is still up in the air. Who knows, maybe we'll have a baby! <br />
<br />
Well it is time for 5QF with <a href="http://fivecrookedhalos.blogspot.com/">My Little Life</a> so head on over and link up for some fun!<br />
<br />
1. Have you ever had roommates?<br />
Sure have. Some great and some not so great. My first semester of college I was put into a school-owned tiny 2 bedroom apartment with 3 other girls. No lie my mother nervously asked the school if I could be put with 3 boys instead. The person checking us in looked at her like she had two heads and said, uh, no we don't do co-ed housing. My mother responded - there is no way she is going to get along with 3 girls in a small apartment, she needs to be with boys for peaceful living, this is going to be a disaster. Well let's just say that by the end of that first semester I was moving into a non-school-owned apartment with 3 boys. And life was so much calmer after that for me. I did like one of my roommates from that first semester but the other 2 were just too much girl drama for me!<br />
<br />
2. How many names do you/your children have? (i.e. Prince Charming William Phillip Arthur Louis John Jacob Jingleheimer-Schmidt)<br />
Legally Reagan has the standard 3 names - first, middle, last. She does however have many nicknames - Peek-A-Boo, MonkeyFace, TurkeyFace, Baby, Stinker - just to name a few. <br />
<br />
3. Did you watch the Royal Wedding?<br />
Not yet. I had to work so I DVRd it and just haven't had the time yet to sit and enjoy it. But I will!<br />
<br />
4. What is the messiest room in your house?<br />
Just one?!?! It is probably our living room - which is also concurrently Reagan's playroom. So there are always toys everywhere. Maybe one day we will be able to finish off the back room for the playroom.<br />
<br />
5. What is your ideal mothers day?<br />
Hanging with my sweet little girl while Daddy cooks crepes for breakfast and something yummy for dinner. Being an Infertile, Mothers Days WITH a child is such a huge gift unto itself and my heart aches for all the Mothers out there still waiting for their chance to spend one with a child. <br />
<br />
Have a wonderful weekend everyone and Happy Mother's Day to all the lovely women who are already parenting and those still waiting to parent. Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8076005273679130685.post-47622309370980884122011-05-04T22:57:00.000-04:002011-05-04T22:57:20.144-04:00Any Special Needs Kids Resale Equipment?Reagan's birth brother Oscar was born with Spina Bifida. He lives with one of my BFFs and we are always out together doing things with the kids. Like the corn maze last November (because I love this picture of them!)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80B0WoPbdEMBigvn5wrhL5qaEwP3NJAGwUrvD-fKva6lLszakJ0OkXPunFMRhIGglfMMr_4yu2aSOzmiGcwJjSYKpaUWjpK22UqDfXs66iQwKxdIeV2P2KlBANmEHFIm5bZSQ1kiUqtdl/s1600/DSC04483a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80B0WoPbdEMBigvn5wrhL5qaEwP3NJAGwUrvD-fKva6lLszakJ0OkXPunFMRhIGglfMMr_4yu2aSOzmiGcwJjSYKpaUWjpK22UqDfXs66iQwKxdIeV2P2KlBANmEHFIm5bZSQ1kiUqtdl/s320/DSC04483a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>And playing at the playground (just look at his sweet face!)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippmVa2Tjtp8bwSAEknStDd8li6oT9tE7UjSPiviAbKa0f1nRAhM4tPioGbDtqiKDLSEf1AShdX0jIQgDVEqdREyPc1aZNNC9fa8sttrsEEyKnE7avJmU1OI_EXbig3FVXdVlcosZxqU-J/s1600/DSC04721a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippmVa2Tjtp8bwSAEknStDd8li6oT9tE7UjSPiviAbKa0f1nRAhM4tPioGbDtqiKDLSEf1AShdX0jIQgDVEqdREyPc1aZNNC9fa8sttrsEEyKnE7avJmU1OI_EXbig3FVXdVlcosZxqU-J/s320/DSC04721a.jpg" width="254" /></a></div>Well one of the things we've learned about Spina Bifida is that even the specialists can't predict what each individual child will accomplish. There are ranges within each level of defect but those ranges are very broad. That is a good thing and a bad thing. The good thing is that the specialists don't tell you to only expect this or to never expect that. The bad thing is that the specialists can't tell you what to expect and when you are trying to figure out how best to help a specific child that can be intimidating. My BFF is always checking out new ways to help Oscar fulfill his potential and advocating for him and he has more than exceeded any of our expectations already. We believe he could go even further given the opportunity to try out different types of therapeutic and mobility equipment. The problem there is the expense. Insurance only covers so much and then you are on your own. He recently got some new wheels and immediately knew how to use them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPmLGGVsVmMEawE9H-sOSHekzM7DhAySclcbD1nSHV_So5lnJrmDvoGaukeSdM3IDErw8LVQWpEb0muskK75_Xe8NRaDnCwhjBajMAYGfxS7DZbkq4sGT42E5kXKBBF3VJ4c-p-U05TWa7/s1600/Oscar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPmLGGVsVmMEawE9H-sOSHekzM7DhAySclcbD1nSHV_So5lnJrmDvoGaukeSdM3IDErw8LVQWpEb0muskK75_Xe8NRaDnCwhjBajMAYGfxS7DZbkq4sGT42E5kXKBBF3VJ4c-p-U05TWa7/s320/Oscar.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>Well there are so many other pieces of equipment he could probably benefit from but we've been unable to find an affordable way to obtain those. We thought for sure there would be a network of equipment since the kids grow so fast but not even the regional spina bifida clinic had any leads on how to find outgrown equipment. So I thought I'd throw it out to the blogosphere and see if anyone has any ideas or leads they can share. Please feel free to share this post with others who may be able to help. Oscar is such a happy child and so loved and he certainly deserves every possible chance to maximize his abilities. <br />
<br />
Thanks in advance for any help you can provide!Reagan and Trevor's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11025330013654842897noreply@blogger.com7