tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40787080331251048942024-02-21T03:54:05.231-08:00Lovely, With a Side of TerribleShare in my journey of raising little ones, fighting off cancer, and living with love.Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.comBlogger149125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-38033261575493662702022-05-17T14:05:00.000-07:002022-05-17T14:05:04.724-07:00Good Job, Little Cheater<p>My kid basically cheated his way through 8<sup>th</sup>
grade math. And I’m proud of him.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Okay, that was a cheap intro to grab your attention, because<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, no</i>, I’m not proud of him for cheating.
Obviously.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvhUMGm9OY7rfT238Se0YIIGYCsG0paNWw6gtEOBUvrtNTEJNpC2edUdwsxdmGXPAvDjYbTgYMp5K1cnPSoEz3rOxsVadBLCAIMGsvsOLGG7XvmqWkdQLkXGzXRBLJ-uzeCUXFPW5dM4ISvKcOEKJoYCwHGDjj4xGRb-ijrMpPPA8VxZoBqKTeD5_EA/s989/tech.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="989" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvhUMGm9OY7rfT238Se0YIIGYCsG0paNWw6gtEOBUvrtNTEJNpC2edUdwsxdmGXPAvDjYbTgYMp5K1cnPSoEz3rOxsVadBLCAIMGsvsOLGG7XvmqWkdQLkXGzXRBLJ-uzeCUXFPW5dM4ISvKcOEKJoYCwHGDjj4xGRb-ijrMpPPA8VxZoBqKTeD5_EA/w400-h223/tech.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He used an app to help him through his math homework for
basically the entire year. And by “help” I mean to give him the answers. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Most assuredly, he is in the vast majority of teens today letting
technology do their work for them in any and every possible way. As his
parents, we can push back but it’s an onerous battle. The kid doesn’t even have
a cell phone yet – as in, he may be the only 14 year old in his school (town,
country…?) without a neck permanently bent over a gleaming little rectangle of
all-consuming, electronic life. Short of homeschooling him on a Mennonite farm
- wait, hold up, I think even Mennonites are on phones these days, make that an
Amish farm – we must understand that he can and will live a life seeped in
near-constant access to the Internet. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvV34wVnwk93ncTvacYjVXQeULjkyW2UK3VXl8HEBd_bJ4W9aq61bNr22nyGYUntzTpr91O1J2MLAXz3HIr_fVoa9oa4ojdCKrthyIbkCrO0YtevoOzxUcKHfQCoaML-CwrE1dU-X-ipISqlKJxo3mYioTrADBBGTA6oDhXHUafmj19Ir0w2LhmVVyyg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="250" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvV34wVnwk93ncTvacYjVXQeULjkyW2UK3VXl8HEBd_bJ4W9aq61bNr22nyGYUntzTpr91O1J2MLAXz3HIr_fVoa9oa4ojdCKrthyIbkCrO0YtevoOzxUcKHfQCoaML-CwrE1dU-X-ipISqlKJxo3mYioTrADBBGTA6oDhXHUafmj19Ir0w2LhmVVyyg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I seek not to decry the progression of technology or
repudiate its advantages, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(she types on
her laptop, connected to high-speed DSL.)<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Instead, I think we should not ignore any face of this
integration into our and our children’s lives. Because there are A LOT of faces
to this. Like a massive glimmering disco ball, there is applicability and
integration of technology at every slight turn. Most parents have joined the conversation
of concerned masses to keep their pubescent boys (and/or husbands) off of pornography
and their pre-teen to teen daughters sheltered from cyber bullies, body
shaming, cyber creeps and the like. But there are whole lot of additional faces
to challenge their budding moralities. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the first year back to in-person
school, after a quarantined year and a half of 100% at-home/on-computer
education, it’s either ironic or completely obvious that the blinding glint of
this turn in the shiny ball that is technology today has me stumbling. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Technology can also have a nefarious role in
my kids’ education?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiaDj6iQScnDJqZ1Wb-og6zyF2LRxZ3onswQl6f6EVqlZADeX16TccYH8oVP3UUNV9tvI_FTesoQ5KPUe3n0Ull-RL78loWmOpK5ZKEiIpRhESu0mJqKjyKviUaAPItv67lO6F8wctvYYFmO2RrlEFvxELFG1tnH7iBosSMIJaD3gniVB_jHbApc80UmA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="224" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiaDj6iQScnDJqZ1Wb-og6zyF2LRxZ3onswQl6f6EVqlZADeX16TccYH8oVP3UUNV9tvI_FTesoQ5KPUe3n0Ull-RL78loWmOpK5ZKEiIpRhESu0mJqKjyKviUaAPItv67lO6F8wctvYYFmO2RrlEFvxELFG1tnH7iBosSMIJaD3gniVB_jHbApc80UmA" width="239" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Straddling the chasm of pre and post technology, having been
born in the very first year that classifies the Millennial Generation, I feel
like it might be apropos to use “in the good old days” at least once in this
discussion. So, here goes…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the good old days, which I currently apply to the early
2000’s, you heard about cheating like you heard about teen pregnancy. There was
shock-value, reprobation, maybe some reverence, and almost always degrees of separation.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So-and-so heard that somebody’s cousin
bought a term paper and turned it in as their own and got an A! Can you believe
that?!</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now, however,<span style="font-size: large;"> the ability to cheat easily sits ever-present
in our children’s back pocket. Literally. </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, when my 8<sup>th</sup> grader was showed an app that
would not only give him the answer to math problems he struggles to understand at
every level, but would also display the steps for him so his teacher wouldn’t
be able to tell, he acquiesced into the world of present-day cheaters.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg1aDp6By3GO2eKtzs1p8HXWSYOSI3odKxu_M1P9mzwTYA-R9MRGuQl21VWBjuyELt9Gw1X39oskedDeZAqJ3Sja4W-a8vblSzqsYmrYKrMjMvKLnfOsRivffAggDOY7JCzVTpmTOCJ1DW2nR3-TtHiyntZWrw5-TSXwWVSZrnqeyuRGr-LTlSM69fD_w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg1aDp6By3GO2eKtzs1p8HXWSYOSI3odKxu_M1P9mzwTYA-R9MRGuQl21VWBjuyELt9Gw1X39oskedDeZAqJ3Sja4W-a8vblSzqsYmrYKrMjMvKLnfOsRivffAggDOY7JCzVTpmTOCJ1DW2nR3-TtHiyntZWrw5-TSXwWVSZrnqeyuRGr-LTlSM69fD_w" width="320" /></a></div><br />I was not oblivious to this. It took a few months into the
start of the year, but then I began to notice something was amiss. We weren’t spending
hours into the evenings trying to teach math and get through endless problems.
Why didn’t he have more homework? Why weren’t we all trying to fall asleep frustrated
and slightly hopeless every weeknight?<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There was a progression of our pushing back: monitoring him,
driving to tutoring, reaching out to his math teacher, de-incentivizing a good
grade in math, etc. Suffice it to say, our efforts were generally fruitless. He
could do the work in a mere fraction of the time <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">– I mean, he may not know what a fraction is </i>– but he could get
through it quickly, with no frustration or arguments, and no fear of having to
fail and repeat the class as a 9<sup>th</sup> grader – the ultimate shame. And
so he did.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And a week before finals, he cheerily sat at the kitchen
table sharing with his family Greek pita sandwiches and the news that he has an
86% in math. Inciting yet another lecture, and not at all the reaction he was
irrationally hoping for, my husband and I reiterated we expect an honest grade,
whatever that looks like. We expect to raise honest humans, whatever the
consequences. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I will spare you the round-and-round details in which I
mostly wanted to bang my head on the very table I should have been slogging
through 8<sup>th</sup> grade math problems with him on, late into the night for
the past ten months. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But I will tell you the details of today, because this is
where I get to be proud of my difficult, obstinate, cheater of a son, who is occasionally
surprisingly brave, gracious, and upstanding. He sent me and his dad an email
from school (remember, kid doesn’t have a phone to text from) and said,</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: trebuchet;"><b>"I chose to have integrity and went and talked to the middle
school principal and told her what happened."</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He walked into the principal’s office and admitted cheating
his way through a math class that he couldn’t understand. We told him this was
the right thing to do – and then he actually did it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVMAPvyyj-uMdtSQhyZPN8DUZWqkRnrhQDzy8-wTlhgXjSbMb9W0Jum4IjGDdGzfB-PSgtPFyAI_W5CUVfwlLc9I2d_h2t-HY36EdxxNqFkAYTNRYiYDy9J21mhVBlOQxNKqIb2ayylwjLMvC5Rrufm0fvz6kv6gA_hpOUafqJQYIOUbTHKoNc-TXExA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVMAPvyyj-uMdtSQhyZPN8DUZWqkRnrhQDzy8-wTlhgXjSbMb9W0Jum4IjGDdGzfB-PSgtPFyAI_W5CUVfwlLc9I2d_h2t-HY36EdxxNqFkAYTNRYiYDy9J21mhVBlOQxNKqIb2ayylwjLMvC5Rrufm0fvz6kv6gA_hpOUafqJQYIOUbTHKoNc-TXExA" width="319" /></a></div><br />I repeatedly tell this growing man-child all kinds of things…
to stop leaving his dirty socks everywhere in the house, to get out of bed
before 1 PM on the weekends, to get off his computer, to brush his teeth, to
leave his sister alone, to clear any of the given 2-dozen dirty dishes out of
the dark, stinky den that is his bedroom - to not do his math homework without
me or his dad present… and he ignores every word.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But this he listened to. He actually went in on his own and
admitted his wrongs and is prepared for the consequences that will ensue. That
makes me proud.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One small victory in the ongoing war that is raising a moral
human today.<o:p></o:p></p>Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0New Mexico, USA34.5199402 -105.87009016.2097063638211552 -141.0263401 62.830174036178846 -70.7138401tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-14431219396817149102018-07-31T22:19:00.001-07:002018-07-31T22:43:51.061-07:00Oh. OCD.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<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/AVvXsEi7iHq56p9NGhx6hpPObjxXTGGfW197UdgGhUlMPPiTlRAV_5LwG2YwAWcdFToA1DlwW1_Kiks_GvPiXIOgSLkBY9_aYArFcnrVDgwTOs17QuqpG5faPbZdGvebnL4ZJ9KrNTyf_twBEOJw/s1600/20180731_223201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="1600" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7iHq56p9NGhx6hpPObjxXTGGfW197UdgGhUlMPPiTlRAV_5LwG2YwAWcdFToA1DlwW1_Kiks_GvPiXIOgSLkBY9_aYArFcnrVDgwTOs17QuqpG5faPbZdGvebnL4ZJ9KrNTyf_twBEOJw/s400/20180731_223201.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>How do I tell you that there is
something wrong with my child? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How do I explain my lanky 10-year old’s toddler-like fits, his
crippling fears over mundane things, his lengthy, peculiar rituals, his exhausting
conversations that go nowhere but span across multiple days, or the downright
rude things that come out of his middle-schooler-bucked tooth mouth? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know. I’m new at this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I mean, I’m not new at having a child with abnormal tendencies.
He’s shown glimpses of an obsessive level of stubbornness since infancy. I’m
just new at understanding them – at understanding him, I guess.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the last couple of years, his… differentness… has shown
itself with increasing vigor. This summer, the months before he will start 5th
grade, have been the (so-far) culmination of difficulties. Instead of weeks or
months between fits of strange behavior, there suddenly is almost no “normal” reprieve.
I feel like I’m losing him behind a wall of… of… badness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My son has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He is plagued
with obsessions and compulsions. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You do not have to repeat things to make them "feel right."<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You do not have to wash your hands 4
times, for 45 seconds each.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
<b>is</b> okay to use a school or public bathroom.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
overestimates danger and so is tormented by bouts of intense fear. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You do not need to double lock every door and shut every window.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Your water bottle is not "contaminated."</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>No
one is going to get into your bedroom with a grappling hook.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You do not need to sleep with the
covers tightly over your head.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i> Please - for the love of God - stop coming into our room in the middle of the night
asking to sleep on our floor and proceeding to scream about it for 30-75 torturous minutes.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He craves
absolute certainty and is crippled with stress in the absence of such. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes, I’ll be at the bus stop when you get off. Just like every previous
492 days of school.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Yes,
those shoes match/will be comfortable/are weather-appropriate.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Yes,
Dad will be home around 6 PM. Just like I told you 3 minutes ago.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
And to boot, his OCD sparks oppositional defiance that is frequent and persistent. Basically, he's almost always irritable, angry, or straight-up deifying instruction from adults with authority over him (ie. <i>all </i>adults) but particularly me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Jx3EE7axQ7Bgm3A1-HCi8SKFdIeRuJGr9XTgHeFeBkx4VQ_fIPrKdPfGb9qbUUjHDpPBmAEtURYmFF4m2afPKkwUx5_GYZ4GxgHWFpSTvoMe2XONE_jRHODmmyYPPXcXKxHZ4GzwHMWX/s1600/fun.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="344" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Jx3EE7axQ7Bgm3A1-HCi8SKFdIeRuJGr9XTgHeFeBkx4VQ_fIPrKdPfGb9qbUUjHDpPBmAEtURYmFF4m2afPKkwUx5_GYZ4GxgHWFpSTvoMe2XONE_jRHODmmyYPPXcXKxHZ4GzwHMWX/s200/fun.png" width="119" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I’m a fairly hard-lined parenter. Like: <i>I already gave you an answer, there’s no discussion</i> kind of parent.
Like, <i>you want to complain about that,
now you can do this too </i>kind of parent. (And, for the record, I call this <u>good</u><i> </i>parenting.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But my son is pretty much turning any shred of intuition, success, or aptitude I may have held as a parent into crap. It-doesn't-work, there-is-no-logic crap.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From the humbling ground of square-one, I am having to learn how to parent OCD. And it's way, way less intuitive and more time-consuming. It is smash-your-head-against-the-wall-difficult.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It feels like everything I've been fighting for parentally for the last decade is lost behind a wall of my son's irrational fears and emotions I have to help him (a) recognize are not real and (b) learn to fight against. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It used be like, hey kid: use polite language and gracious manners. Apologize. Look a person in the eye and speak up. Struggle to think of others. Lying is unacceptable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, it's like: you will drink out of the same cup twice. Yes you can.<br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<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/AVvXsEjF3fIKr7rznm_u8xyiwwT5gghMktVXt37RQymNfL-7KRynHLyox64kZGbZTt9sRx0Tyef6tDUbdRgodDeDoO_GeNAJGrUTfB_nr4REyPOc4ZNXVbXCbSSojMoq8yvOot6SPU8PV9jEDDGl/s1600/head.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="974" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3fIKr7rznm_u8xyiwwT5gghMktVXt37RQymNfL-7KRynHLyox64kZGbZTt9sRx0Tyef6tDUbdRgodDeDoO_GeNAJGrUTfB_nr4REyPOc4ZNXVbXCbSSojMoq8yvOot6SPU8PV9jEDDGl/s320/head.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don't know where it goes from here. I don't.<br />
<br />
My husband and I are constantly fighting for our gentle, agreeable, funny child trapped behind these struggles with thoughts stronger than he has learned to fight and emotions bigger than he has learned to sort. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We go to therapy. He does. My husband and I do so we can parent him - and hopefully not lose our minds in the process. There are books for us and workbooks for him. We're talking about medication. And really, we're struggling every day with him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, so, I guess <i><b>that’s</b> </i>how I tell you there is something wrong
with my child.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The mental illness in my son's brain is the new Terrible in our lovely lives. But onward we plod, fighting for the greater Lovely. Fighting for our boy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Iz6ZkXZfzQpn2db9FW8ByZfM0DGbZXeU5SrqrleXOgNm9Zh-MR4rcrs277YOjqBkYjE1b-QlcaU4usEoPpTW9-epwKGYcfm1aekuchn-1G9aU-DBbrX-XpyJfj0uDcttYgVFMJ0K5-A4/s1600/20180731_223028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Iz6ZkXZfzQpn2db9FW8ByZfM0DGbZXeU5SrqrleXOgNm9Zh-MR4rcrs277YOjqBkYjE1b-QlcaU4usEoPpTW9-epwKGYcfm1aekuchn-1G9aU-DBbrX-XpyJfj0uDcttYgVFMJ0K5-A4/s400/20180731_223028.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-34806489644172267422018-05-17T15:55:00.000-07:002018-05-23T22:03:21.014-07:00Summer With Kids: Have a Plan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKg0YMI4WePoqJAFwfqlD-27AWRhLSMogKC82rM929Hj9Tq7773_9FJcd2sCTgx2aL3dnIfxBjjsJqWOgjdol1xq9JsMqUGx22WVegVpOm1ed2x6XJJx-p7iNPenR_keNdamOV4ZOcDo_u/s1600/pop2+summer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="1600" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKg0YMI4WePoqJAFwfqlD-27AWRhLSMogKC82rM929Hj9Tq7773_9FJcd2sCTgx2aL3dnIfxBjjsJqWOgjdol1xq9JsMqUGx22WVegVpOm1ed2x6XJJx-p7iNPenR_keNdamOV4ZOcDo_u/s320/pop2+summer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
What do you <i>do </i>with your kids during the summer?</div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Do you ever get that question? I certainly do. <i>Give them a popsicle and lock them outside. </i>Uh, just kidding. The answer in our household is often routine. When nothing else is scheduled, we use a schedule.</div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Because I work full-time and also put in a lot of volunteer hours, I’m no stranger to using careful scheduling and time management to stay on top of an otherwise overwhelming amount of tasks and information. It can get crazy otherwise.<i> Can I get an amen?! </i>I also have a child with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder who does better when he clearly knows what to expect.</div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Basically, <b>because I prefer a sane household, I enforce a schedule</b>.</div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">There’s a lot of summer schedule suggestions for kids floating around out there. In case anyone may benefit from ours, here’s what we do:</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSa4uLepzUYBuJS-mAVdyS5Cb1QzjcK5XnpapMAJJMIl5j3fm2stv-iL7-yQuQ8r-EUGyiGfowxV4mi6TWHJhIIwfdYy3tiHE25p2thIrOq0NwSHmWNTBsnLotbp_ZX635NjpAShyphenhyphen4-Zis/s1600/Summer+share+final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1304" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSa4uLepzUYBuJS-mAVdyS5Cb1QzjcK5XnpapMAJJMIl5j3fm2stv-iL7-yQuQ8r-EUGyiGfowxV4mi6TWHJhIIwfdYy3tiHE25p2thIrOq0NwSHmWNTBsnLotbp_ZX635NjpAShyphenhyphen4-Zis/s640/Summer+share+final.jpg" width="520" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
A lot of the summer we are traveling. Or there’s the occasional day-outing or play date. This schedule is not for those days but for all the others. It's for the normal, in-between, kids-bickering, kids-bored days.</div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
May you enjoy the time with your littles this summer, Mamas. <span style="font-size: 11pt;">Godspeed.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i>And when all else fails, don’t be afraid to give them a popsicle and lock them outside.</i></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBxmDRV9Luj5A7VZwoNx710Tt6nyNVaU7URRawhluY-pvwUS2pwDen8tuYK3jPi96_Zp3A8ulbwz-JecR5C2fBO68snpaZMLu5lxX1ePPmOI7b2xKSnkMGQeZqzU9LqfZz4hnFAcd2XW_e/s1600/pop3+fun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBxmDRV9Luj5A7VZwoNx710Tt6nyNVaU7URRawhluY-pvwUS2pwDen8tuYK3jPi96_Zp3A8ulbwz-JecR5C2fBO68snpaZMLu5lxX1ePPmOI7b2xKSnkMGQeZqzU9LqfZz4hnFAcd2XW_e/s1600/pop3+fun.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><br /></i></div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-2324620313064847842017-08-24T17:26:00.002-07:002017-08-30T11:33:37.015-07:00Parenting Through the Failures and the French Dressing<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<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/AVvXsEjeApDRdqE7YNicROXaHPpeNvkKW_6gkrBIXmvpwWGPtTV5rMDV8RxTIMWOV7R9wCoWc15STHf00HwLktitiDPJe-0QHYzp2tz3dwY9w4SkRNkhI4CaOiYh7iYXCyING27BmCkrbyI0d_Az/s1600/1pexels-photo-551578.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="622" data-original-width="1124" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeApDRdqE7YNicROXaHPpeNvkKW_6gkrBIXmvpwWGPtTV5rMDV8RxTIMWOV7R9wCoWc15STHf00HwLktitiDPJe-0QHYzp2tz3dwY9w4SkRNkhI4CaOiYh7iYXCyING27BmCkrbyI0d_Az/s640/1pexels-photo-551578.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Good God, parenting is hard.<br />
<br />
<i>(I mean that </i><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">less as an expletive and</span></i><i> more as an actual cry out to God. But both work here.)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At times it’s so difficult it sucks. Like, sucks the life out of
you. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
If you're new here, I have two children. And ya, ya, they're basically the meaning, joy and all that stuff in my life; <i>blah, blah. </i>Also, I am often convinced by their actions, non-actions, and words that I am an incompetent, haggard, imbecile. The latter of which has been more common of late.<br />
<br />
These two darlings of mine are opposites in nearly everything. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My first child came into the world after a grueling 2-full
days of pain-filled, epidural-failing labor in an uncomfortable hospital with
<u>shared</u> recovery rooms. There was no sleep - or recovery - to be had in that loud, hot room with someone else's screaming newborn and crass family members on the other side of a curtain. Twice a day the cafeteria delivered prison-quality
food that consisted primarily of iceberg lettuce with French dressing. <i>(Ugh. WHO eats French dressing?) <o:p></o:p></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Regardless, I was enamored with the life entrusted to me.
That long-awaited, tiny, beautiful baby was mine!<br />
<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/AVvXsEiJfgwHKhErYtDxiIAkMHLWAm9YQ6M5JLi7Y3LMqNTD5q_eV012QtfrmPfewYQBx8jANYZj74SPCSjp4g-ZOhJLXUmEo1XO5hJ6Tu6s3euohbc-2QpBCmotIbvNbyuVW_7LCUBQTbzcmilN/s1600/1pexels-photo-325690.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="525" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfgwHKhErYtDxiIAkMHLWAm9YQ6M5JLi7Y3LMqNTD5q_eV012QtfrmPfewYQBx8jANYZj74SPCSjp4g-ZOhJLXUmEo1XO5hJ6Tu6s3euohbc-2QpBCmotIbvNbyuVW_7LCUBQTbzcmilN/s640/1pexels-photo-325690.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As our days together grew, along with the bonding and immeasurable
love, he confounded me in ways I assumed were due to my parenting inexperience.
It was only some seven years later, I started to see these traits as part of
who he is. He has obsessive compulsions.
He struggles with anxiety. He is complicated.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Conversely, a few years, a few states, and some major life changes later,
my second child came into the world in a miraculous, perfectly-timed flurry of ease and joy. [<a href="https://lovelywithaside.blogspot.com/2014/03/joy-miracle-baby.html" target="_blank">More on that here</a>.]<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In a cool, beachy town, she arrived quickly and with forgettable
pain. We laid together in a quiet, cushy room to ourselves with no French
dressing in sight and the world felt easy and good with her in it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The five years of her since then have been largely easy and good. Where our eldest often confounds and exhausts us, our youngest
comes along with receptiveness and reason that restores our sanity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I don’t know who
these little people will become -</b><i> </i>which is the outcome that drives the very purpose of parenting - but in these early years with them, they certainly have already niched out distinct traits and qualities.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEAL2iBZRC4FoZipo4i2mfr-ePnGll7sf11T0yNmZpYjc61mIRvoMrhJlcN1qo9SH9FsIALtwIBy9RHrV1EgHfJR1gKtqbGeVjYHHYm0cxo3l0eAGRlbgUI1bycakAGSZSrNnvIRGsLz_/s1600/1pexels-photo-325265.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="526" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEAL2iBZRC4FoZipo4i2mfr-ePnGll7sf11T0yNmZpYjc61mIRvoMrhJlcN1qo9SH9FsIALtwIBy9RHrV1EgHfJR1gKtqbGeVjYHHYm0cxo3l0eAGRlbgUI1bycakAGSZSrNnvIRGsLz_/s640/1pexels-photo-325265.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of our offspring, my husband says, struck the genetic
lottery. She is smart, good at everything she tries, and likable, as though the
very tranquility she came into the world with still emanates from her. Our
other offspring, not unlike the way he came into the world, is... complicated. Many
of his good qualities are quieter, take more time to see and appreciate. And, his
character requires much more correction. (This is in part due to his older age, to be fair.) Parenting
him takes more patience, humility, and time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is easy to grow weary or frustrated parenting <i>any </i>child … to wonder what you’re doing
wrong <i>and gosh-darn-it</i> what’s wrong with them?!<br />
<br />
It's in this onslaught I've forgotten something.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the struggle and the self-doubt, I forgot that I’m the one for <u>both</u> of my
children. My husband and I are meant for these two specific children; we have what it takes to to raise them into moral, just, kind humans; to take these blessings and cultivate the good within them as they grow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the words of <a href="http://proverbs31.org/devotions/devo/when-you-feel-like-a-bad-mom/" target="_blank">Lysa TerKeurst</a>, a wiser woman than I: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">...God gave me
this specific child. God sees within me the ability to be the one He’s
perfectly designed to raise this child.</span><i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Through the normal difficulties or the unique ones, the sunshine and rainbows or the arguing and dejection, may each parent among us be encouraged and reminded that <span style="font-size: large;">we are perfectly designed to raise the child
or children we have. </span><b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<i>Whew.</i> And may God
help us in the process. (Especially when puberty hits.)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHiAiUUGYdr7eomp_9aaBRRaRUH8ixk_rhnk-OzrrXVpyYwPxjC5buT3BiyGaNGqqROpzaT8TNYyD6sBpO9hIBLAKBbI4Rm1cnt1OjYkAUYVuZK6OH7Zuhr9wKwEyyNLbiCBg2bfcXwkL/s1600/1pexels-photo-269141.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="817" data-original-width="1600" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHiAiUUGYdr7eomp_9aaBRRaRUH8ixk_rhnk-OzrrXVpyYwPxjC5buT3BiyGaNGqqROpzaT8TNYyD6sBpO9hIBLAKBbI4Rm1cnt1OjYkAUYVuZK6OH7Zuhr9wKwEyyNLbiCBg2bfcXwkL/s640/1pexels-photo-269141.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-21839034755960078832017-03-14T09:35:00.003-07:002017-03-14T09:35:33.624-07:00Perspective<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4cP6A8-hRAJs_47lOpn94B4tlUwxkmBVCnuljjyzbMgfAn6WXWYC-T9DJQZZvFCbDhjD96APeEEWRw8Q6ra5VgJUBc8OB6k8BCvY_ibfuVWPJgNgqSSvt-mCiROB6IBs7p610sUTPxU0/s1600/quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4cP6A8-hRAJs_47lOpn94B4tlUwxkmBVCnuljjyzbMgfAn6WXWYC-T9DJQZZvFCbDhjD96APeEEWRw8Q6ra5VgJUBc8OB6k8BCvY_ibfuVWPJgNgqSSvt-mCiROB6IBs7p610sUTPxU0/s640/quote.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-75743244555526609892016-08-29T00:00:00.000-07:002018-10-30T12:55:28.162-07:00Don't You Cry. <div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK06tV5OPQAkq-BH3wuh4l5Brz1rn51Em4W5SZoGWpWMxv7GiPcZDZcPs4TlzrnXhxyfia6sVKFQOmvN-H_dQBqtDw9PTBTm9hVG_TxYyWAO02uqwaCapt5Gb07mE0LUBayOaaiWFaIZSJ/s1600/cry1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK06tV5OPQAkq-BH3wuh4l5Brz1rn51Em4W5SZoGWpWMxv7GiPcZDZcPs4TlzrnXhxyfia6sVKFQOmvN-H_dQBqtDw9PTBTm9hVG_TxYyWAO02uqwaCapt5Gb07mE0LUBayOaaiWFaIZSJ/s400/cry1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
“Ding, ding,” goes her Hello Kitty bell as she peddles hard
around the track. Her bike flops lopsidedly from one rickety training wheel to
the other. She doesn’t want to take them off yet. The sun is hot on our backs
and the air is painfully dry.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>This is where we live now. It still doesn’t feel like it. </i><o:p></o:p><br />
<i><br /></i>
My phone is in the purple and white basket clipped onto the
front of her bike; it’s playing Guns N' Roses' <i>Don’t Cry</i> as we circle the track, waiting for her brother's practice to be over. I’m humming
along and pretending Axl is singing to console me, (and also pretending that
the lyrics are not largely a bunch of relationship garbage – I mean genius – I mean
garbage.)<br />
<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/AVvXsEgar6TRMoo7iQbMt486SSSH0pGa1yQQ_54T8IT9BZPqEO4dZuuaCFDrRAwbd2i_YmgZ-xi6nQBkYYiqQVVqmdQAvFN-TAIjQ-qqTTz3bGT_SasxOdH__ILkIWkLg_3zsk1aOfNtRpQgHYpd/s1600/20160823_184505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgar6TRMoo7iQbMt486SSSH0pGa1yQQ_54T8IT9BZPqEO4dZuuaCFDrRAwbd2i_YmgZ-xi6nQBkYYiqQVVqmdQAvFN-TAIjQ-qqTTz3bGT_SasxOdH__ILkIWkLg_3zsk1aOfNtRpQgHYpd/s320/20160823_184505.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She is excited to have the important job of carrying my phone, especially whilst it blares music. Happily, she dings her bell along like the 6th member of the band. We just need some tight American-flag biker shorts and a lot of pomp and then we'd be all set out here.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7nTiz4AWvumgLhKLmzgGdQxDyNnMV6kstdiPBjMZcKQN9oH6kBRY0ooYkRo7_VcxU0rjgv7jJSDqWlPpdI7QPDDDzuG3X9jFflwmFFa6N89UKl9tFOLPamH8CKAOqHpt-VZnqzeax0ThE/s1600/gr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7nTiz4AWvumgLhKLmzgGdQxDyNnMV6kstdiPBjMZcKQN9oH6kBRY0ooYkRo7_VcxU0rjgv7jJSDqWlPpdI7QPDDDzuG3X9jFflwmFFa6N89UKl9tFOLPamH8CKAOqHpt-VZnqzeax0ThE/s640/gr.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The months since moving to this place have been long and difficult; the changes have been a constant struggle, launching me into yet another "difficult phase" of my adult life. Has there been anything but a succession of difficult phases? </i><o:p></o:p><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Well, so, this is what I’ve come to... “bumping” a
1991 hit from a four-year-old’s bicycle when I really do feel like crying at 4:00 in the afternoon? </span><b style="font-size: x-large;"> </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I fear I keep repeating myself, but gosh <span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://lovelywithaside.blogspot.com/2013/08/life-is-hard.html" target="_blank">life is hard</a></span>. It’s hard with really, truly big problems at a lot of times, and a lot
of other times we take our small problems and inflate them into bigness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, I am tired of this sadness so biting. And while I’m at it, I’m tired of limping for the last six years and ending every day in pain. I’m
tired of nerve damage and hot flashes and treatment side effects and… and parenting failures, and... I’m tired.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>We all grow weary of our own burdens at times, don't we?</b> I know so many of you, dear friends, struggle with your disappointment, your loneliness, your heartache, your stress, your pain. Maybe you also
need someone to tell you today, “don’t you cry,” or hey, “go ahead and cry” - whichever it
may be that you need.<br />
<br />
So while I ironically seek some console from infamously self-destructive, hedonistic 90's rock-stars, I know it's actually <b>humility, realistic expectations, and outward focus</b> that will push me through.</div>
<br />
I hope it will for you too.<br />
<br />
I hope you still walk; peddle; ding your bell; play your music.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6GeNRPzclhbF4PsSjcKkFDu5Vc3x6xHypiNEfGG7ULb1EG4WgMypHRIC-owulN_zFqNkPeIa_TLAR1PiVTUmG-cVYVRRAek94qzB1mjoLegv6JARnl9EbGvhumYWyD8HZNq3Lfq1uIvp/s1600/cry3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6GeNRPzclhbF4PsSjcKkFDu5Vc3x6xHypiNEfGG7ULb1EG4WgMypHRIC-owulN_zFqNkPeIa_TLAR1PiVTUmG-cVYVRRAek94qzB1mjoLegv6JARnl9EbGvhumYWyD8HZNq3Lfq1uIvp/s320/cry3.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
And of course, e<i>ven though sometimes it doesn't feel like anything</i>, would that we remember “<span style="font-size: medium;">There’s
a heaven above you baby</span>.”<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Sometimes that's all there is.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "noto sans japanese" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Guns N'Roses: Don't Cry. Written by Duff Rose Mckagan, Izzy Stradlin, Matt Sorum, Saul Hudson, W. Axl Rose • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group</span></span></div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-3402486699970329052016-05-21T16:05:00.002-07:002018-08-01T07:35:09.413-07:00Like a Weaned Child<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPWbI7P-na-kVs4TLz03PVG_3PRSBneHU82lZyl_HOr9Rex-OTmfkNkSjscY6XiFxEiJpFZY8cNf9PZZjVFA3qaBvXLkIoPt6Xr0SNUD4XSfEuumq2wL1Mr6VHzbjOGMHS_6TOmUi-kTl/s1600/new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPWbI7P-na-kVs4TLz03PVG_3PRSBneHU82lZyl_HOr9Rex-OTmfkNkSjscY6XiFxEiJpFZY8cNf9PZZjVFA3qaBvXLkIoPt6Xr0SNUD4XSfEuumq2wL1Mr6VHzbjOGMHS_6TOmUi-kTl/s640/new.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I’m a few paces behind my lanky 8 yr old as the office lady
leads him around the unfamiliar school. His thin shoulders are hunched forward
and he’s not making eye contact. Each time she speaks to him, he nods his
head with an only-slightly-perceptible movement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His face is brave though - so brave. I don’t
understand how he is not crying. I am.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Visions of the beautiful, familiar elementary school we said
goodbye to just last week are haunting me. I want <i>that</i> back for him. I want it all back. <strong>I want to have not had to say
goodbye to such a place as was our home that I loved.</strong> I don’t want to be
standing in this loud, hot hallway right now, outside a second grade classroom I’ve never
seen before and discretely wiping tears into my cheeks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How will he remember where to go tomorrow morning on his own? Will
anyone sit with him at lunch? What will recess be like? ...Why are we making him
do this?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My throat keeps tightening into sadness in the
coming days as I try to push through the newness of so many life
changes I wasn’t looking for. And when the tears do come for my brave 8 year
old who misses his old friends, his old teacher, his old everything, I can’t
choke back from joining in with him. "I
just watch the kids play. I don’t know how to play with them. I want to go home," he tells me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So do I. Even though we chose to make this move to be with
family, I feel a bit lost and lonely amidst them right now. Oh, I know it will get
better. But with 7 moves already under my belt since marriage, I am
ill-prepared for how awesomely difficult #8 is proving to be. There wasn’t supposed
to be a #8. And I really, really liked #7.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizukoaq_B0_d4jwv2koMaX9eapShV2W0bw0_14K3qQ_OS2l-klwhZN1m6ouE32sPlyUMkHZsr6ari7jbpco2Vn4XAWKuVFF5GeIntWoyLY8Nqv2cGKcGjomgmAexjvv3NlFzwYV-uKvxCn/s1600/places.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizukoaq_B0_d4jwv2koMaX9eapShV2W0bw0_14K3qQ_OS2l-klwhZN1m6ouE32sPlyUMkHZsr6ari7jbpco2Vn4XAWKuVFF5GeIntWoyLY8Nqv2cGKcGjomgmAexjvv3NlFzwYV-uKvxCn/s640/places.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By week two, my son has gained the confidence to join in the
games at his new school, to say, “Hey, can you teach me how to play that?” He doesn’t fight going
to school in the morning, (well, not any more than he normally would anyway.)
He goes several days in between pulling out his goodbye letters from his old friends
and hungrily re-reading them. He seems happy again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For such incompetent, dependent beings, children can be
remarkably resilient, can’t they?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s a Bible passage that says: <span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Surely I
have composed and quieted my soul; Like a weaned child rests against his
mother, My soul is like a weaned child within me</i>.</span> (Psalm 131:2)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes is takes a lot of courage to say, “Hey, can you teach me how to play?” And nearly always, it's a challenge to have the reason to see that<span style="font-size: large;"> joy can be chosen, independent of circumstances. </span><br />
<br />
As for me, I'm still fighting the weaning process; I'm pretty much screaming inside, "Give me back my <span style="color: #134f5c;">milk</span>! I want my<i> old</i> joy back." <i>I'm apparently trailing behind that lanky 8 year old of mine in more ways than one. </i>I am working on putting my banging fists down and <span style="color: #134f5c;">resting against </span>what I have given up; I know it is only then my hands will be free to embrace what I have now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSddiBzny8snYFYfF6MTKHewHMvwouMdz8PmRTbIgpImE0RiaG-jec8yLZR3cCTtZlgOU9NlGtdAWO4zVifLFA57S2DQgF2Z4jLC5ei38KV6hqlvsbYoWmjumSEg1ovpXczDvdkLgX57Y/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSddiBzny8snYFYfF6MTKHewHMvwouMdz8PmRTbIgpImE0RiaG-jec8yLZR3cCTtZlgOU9NlGtdAWO4zVifLFA57S2DQgF2Z4jLC5ei38KV6hqlvsbYoWmjumSEg1ovpXczDvdkLgX57Y/s200/baby.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
So every day I try again at managing without that which I had become excessively fond of, (the definition of wean.) I reach for
the composure <span style="color: #134f5c;">to quiet my soul</span>. I try
to let go of #7 and draw into the goodness of #8.<br />
<br />
It <i>will</i> be good here. I <i>will</i> live with joy through this, as I have fought to through the challenges that came before it. <b>So can you... through your struggle.</b><br />
<br />
May God help us draw upon our child-like spirits of resilience.<br />
May we have peace even without the sweet milk of our desires.<br />
<br /></div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-46457929283726390862016-03-10T12:24:00.000-08:002016-03-11T07:26:38.929-08:00The Transformative Power of Sweat Equity... AKA My Before And After House Pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn1tIcwvm2Fab_1Q00aDYdtAaFQK5khPR8kbbuNBl6YARf-DF7qXE-Dys4sz8TS2iB18zN0G6QKN4La-d-gTWXZ3hcivPYufJXdGWW25vivu0YgZbrA0fa3LdxlJCNqvcXISFdxSArlgWm/s1600/16+Photo-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn1tIcwvm2Fab_1Q00aDYdtAaFQK5khPR8kbbuNBl6YARf-DF7qXE-Dys4sz8TS2iB18zN0G6QKN4La-d-gTWXZ3hcivPYufJXdGWW25vivu0YgZbrA0fa3LdxlJCNqvcXISFdxSArlgWm/s320/16+Photo-3.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Don't you love a good transformation?</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My favorite is when a lost soul finds peace in God and therein transforms from selfish ambitions to focus on others.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I also like when the sun <span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">transforms nuclear energy into ultraviolet, infrared, and gamma energy. <i>Just kidding.</i> I don't even understand energy transformation. Plus, I live in the Northwest and haven't seen much of this thing called the sun in like 6 months.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">Falling ever so slightly short of the transformative power of Jesus Christ, or electromagetnic energy, </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large; line-height: 25px;">house make-overs</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"> are pretty cool too.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">Mine has keep me from writing to you fine people for the last two years. We've been working A LOT on the deferred maintenance, late 80's home we purchased as first-time home-buyers.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">The brass was a-shinin and the honey-oak was a-plenty when we arrived in 2014. </span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWAUBDncsi3HkMFkOJVp1qXBvfI14KO46K-ChPxwi_Li1v8PMEwJSqcGIdXhyphenhyphenuCApCb0F7tIWUdK54AY8h9CvYs8FsRMUVS0QSjPfKiMAfbq4YClbGrsbZZ0L8mQ9xSEE5ycC7rwlYUsT/s1600/ISlex1y7wfpdlh1000000000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWAUBDncsi3HkMFkOJVp1qXBvfI14KO46K-ChPxwi_Li1v8PMEwJSqcGIdXhyphenhyphenuCApCb0F7tIWUdK54AY8h9CvYs8FsRMUVS0QSjPfKiMAfbq4YClbGrsbZZ0L8mQ9xSEE5ycC7rwlYUsT/s320/ISlex1y7wfpdlh1000000000.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ON3uwMjI6dujhWVqXVh2Lgoxowann_An-k7ms3_XSWNCN32XA20lo4R4JvUUgXjP-d52QnwHqIAKfQGZgeI6BxdIx6vpQk9yWsmpOfjja73J3rjr2PctjENLyU-GKPjftpQPBUiv0AZP/s1600/IS52tdxunz8jlh1000000000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ON3uwMjI6dujhWVqXVh2Lgoxowann_An-k7ms3_XSWNCN32XA20lo4R4JvUUgXjP-d52QnwHqIAKfQGZgeI6BxdIx6vpQk9yWsmpOfjja73J3rjr2PctjENLyU-GKPjftpQPBUiv0AZP/s320/IS52tdxunz8jlh1000000000.jpg" width="239" /></span></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">But I loved it right from the beginning.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg-ZBfaowrjbKqzEb1IORzaYPNgYLpRBq9C3PeSjmR80HmBgRK7NC2mtBFZ7Wp6N_NonCqrJeF5lHg4DY4vjaFQ_Uo21UrRmSwJEFBOYvsUxMd9P2s4LrzOsakBtdMakoGzScx10eJoeQ/s1600/13+kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg-ZBfaowrjbKqzEb1IORzaYPNgYLpRBq9C3PeSjmR80HmBgRK7NC2mtBFZ7Wp6N_NonCqrJeF5lHg4DY4vjaFQ_Uo21UrRmSwJEFBOYvsUxMd9P2s4LrzOsakBtdMakoGzScx10eJoeQ/s640/13+kitchen.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnY5y5HepZ3TU5QChmmPPTaeZJH7tkabD5yp961z1ScmUudFBt65u8VGg-foZAaJpEcTVf5TFwrVOdWbmfk_SJsbNDHS5LAbqzLJbcoiHOI5BIH-JUyz5xSX3xDOYbTQbH69vfxZ3DM_q/s1600/14+kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnY5y5HepZ3TU5QChmmPPTaeZJH7tkabD5yp961z1ScmUudFBt65u8VGg-foZAaJpEcTVf5TFwrVOdWbmfk_SJsbNDHS5LAbqzLJbcoiHOI5BIH-JUyz5xSX3xDOYbTQbH69vfxZ3DM_q/s640/14+kitchen.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilx6Ik-NuF_ERhTedDBNf0RsqilNn3vF_oXxugAZHn0FZzD6raitK4oL2VifBQCXctzwaZGNmvMmM3XoQd-cJI4X4JrPkyvoKj-mQ3P5Rhn-Z7DOHh5eYj6EC9ib5QI3LI0R90aJNZF9FQ/s1600/7+fam+rm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">People say, "You'll know <i>The One </i>when you see it" about wedding dresses and houses. I could have worn any of the half dozen wedding dresses I liked best, but I literally walked in the front door of this house and knew it was right. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilx6Ik-NuF_ERhTedDBNf0RsqilNn3vF_oXxugAZHn0FZzD6raitK4oL2VifBQCXctzwaZGNmvMmM3XoQd-cJI4X4JrPkyvoKj-mQ3P5Rhn-Z7DOHh5eYj6EC9ib5QI3LI0R90aJNZF9FQ/s1600/7+fam+rm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilx6Ik-NuF_ERhTedDBNf0RsqilNn3vF_oXxugAZHn0FZzD6raitK4oL2VifBQCXctzwaZGNmvMmM3XoQd-cJI4X4JrPkyvoKj-mQ3P5Rhn-Z7DOHh5eYj6EC9ib5QI3LI0R90aJNZF9FQ/s640/7+fam+rm.jpg" width="640" /></span></a><strike><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRP6oEqYPnMtarP5a7-bwqCGGbuA0ZnF0DnojK9QFDs5oxd2DJr9Xi7e15S4gKMgcNRLEboCc0UhRE6nQjLnZVtStxy1uhqse1OszY7Scab-TknVzi3jD1ZZVtpzJTjhzj6mD3Hu64F5QX/s640/7+nook.jpg" width="640" /></span></strike></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<strike><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></strike></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<strike><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></strike></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">We bought it via long-distance. I had seen it once; my husband saw it for the first time two months later when we moved in. So... it's a pretty good thing it worked out for us as well as it has.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsbkXJpIbM1iBNMqKUaW3koDjbfm7cgcu90wJkf4n-wDB2EPvWYvC4gwCG94ZVF-aPN8MMfEFs1sKqNoorgq_RVyK9mkEeycgIEbJwAA9Z8j3DO5unYMnraMGWP8YbDjRBEDWTh9kJT5Cn/s640/10+liv+rm.jpg" width="640" /></span></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtln53m6idX1oWERsmuyXlWi5Cq-V0tvygOc7VbZPXh9LvHQz9RgQAJnI-L10R7KS0om0Lb8UiRS2NqNxl6MSUsn2Ew-iXqvNoQBTvOCffSFK7oYWlZdn4XRW97kxZHjab4CvnroUPzVI/s1600/11+din+rm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtln53m6idX1oWERsmuyXlWi5Cq-V0tvygOc7VbZPXh9LvHQz9RgQAJnI-L10R7KS0om0Lb8UiRS2NqNxl6MSUsn2Ew-iXqvNoQBTvOCffSFK7oYWlZdn4XRW97kxZHjab4CvnroUPzVI/s640/11+din+rm.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span>The number of hours we spent sanding, painting, digging, trimming, sanding and painting more, spakling and skim coating, cutting and building, and sanding and painting some more is almost painful to recall. My hands are aching at the mere memory.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There were many, many weekends and late nights of work, and probably just as many trips to Home Depot. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Some</i> of it was fun.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpINYkLo5upp45DFfag-cG18p7qAj_PbqIvyBifQaIHR42kqBxDDeBhPFwVQ4HDJxxugV0dEu12m39b2Q71sqPoaVfELgnUhk9RdGfXVAEmurQMlFiDLtaseOMeek-R8p-09naFZvg3Ska/s640/9+master.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Master bedroom</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpINYkLo5upp45DFfag-cG18p7qAj_PbqIvyBifQaIHR42kqBxDDeBhPFwVQ4HDJxxugV0dEu12m39b2Q71sqPoaVfELgnUhk9RdGfXVAEmurQMlFiDLtaseOMeek-R8p-09naFZvg3Ska/s1600/9+master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"></span></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm80DEBV8ZLae1nTcNsUA_yY0enwxWrQxocaySUXF7DaDhWcrY45gcSKrUh_DCMpjaVu7nmLboyrMOMVbnvfDKPH0sFqtnbJu1eq8hVDmS4g4B7hNhY5wFFxhJDJV1nc8sTGuwvfdGfoHH/s640/3+master+bath.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Master bathroom</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm80DEBV8ZLae1nTcNsUA_yY0enwxWrQxocaySUXF7DaDhWcrY45gcSKrUh_DCMpjaVu7nmLboyrMOMVbnvfDKPH0sFqtnbJu1eq8hVDmS4g4B7hNhY5wFFxhJDJV1nc8sTGuwvfdGfoHH/s1600/3+master+bath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkoiaoredio5f9T77wpwboDUtHjitE9DZICoiQhPSr2aX8Dj7GF98aF2cDUI1J9DVi3Eg5yPEaSiA2xfmqF8YQ4gW9KFi55pveGgm7gTL6ZzlHmCc3wDJdFckKbXPlqw2Rnrf0Pu8gZimB/s1600/5+master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkoiaoredio5f9T77wpwboDUtHjitE9DZICoiQhPSr2aX8Dj7GF98aF2cDUI1J9DVi3Eg5yPEaSiA2xfmqF8YQ4gW9KFi55pveGgm7gTL6ZzlHmCc3wDJdFckKbXPlqw2Rnrf0Pu8gZimB/s640/5+master.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">Tile and electrical work was hired out, as was the composite deck in the backyard. We did everything else, sometimes with help from handy family members.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">A pretty careful budget was maintained over all. Hard work and creativity are excellent money-savers.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_FOHD_qc6WwFD8Mi7pY7Lnl_YMUGySlZxD0uKWjFt6uCeqYuHn9VNXsYUEmbsE6wpatllatvIREFw6QR8mrMFfuOiLnDj4cE7NeRiE_HHdMcVcgm122pISN_c48Jw58MkBYbYKoDoQdm/s1600/15+rooms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_FOHD_qc6WwFD8Mi7pY7Lnl_YMUGySlZxD0uKWjFt6uCeqYuHn9VNXsYUEmbsE6wpatllatvIREFw6QR8mrMFfuOiLnDj4cE7NeRiE_HHdMcVcgm122pISN_c48Jw58MkBYbYKoDoQdm/s640/15+rooms.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Guest Room Office</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJacdvi-gGdTHviMGO5TkXU8qT0p8mB7HirGPEBYTTqLoeqAtOeQ3BMeIRH-npthXmp3Cls0SsvIajeH9j3K9wtJ_wmxZuCIyepifMvc1XQd04RJ0DebbfOX7t3joNjn3GWzmhSC51P2lV/s1600/16+rooms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJacdvi-gGdTHviMGO5TkXU8qT0p8mB7HirGPEBYTTqLoeqAtOeQ3BMeIRH-npthXmp3Cls0SsvIajeH9j3K9wtJ_wmxZuCIyepifMvc1XQd04RJ0DebbfOX7t3joNjn3GWzmhSC51P2lV/s640/16+rooms.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Kids' Bedrooms</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">I could easily write a post on each room. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">...But that sounds like a lot of work. And </span>I'm not a home blogger.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZD9qWc-i-6XZeeAKi0N_3pd8EBi24nd9EgspZEG9nEsOsCmMVFqmEoN_FLvue2pmfarZpkFrBr3xSx6qyQaKPrW13Yp-2BfiXjjyoR6yIbxHdA_0bX5meQg4v6QjYQP6hRoCYtYctXRM3/s640/2+basement.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Finished basement: from dark man-cave to kid-friendly game space</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZD9qWc-i-6XZeeAKi0N_3pd8EBi24nd9EgspZEG9nEsOsCmMVFqmEoN_FLvue2pmfarZpkFrBr3xSx6qyQaKPrW13Yp-2BfiXjjyoR6yIbxHdA_0bX5meQg4v6QjYQP6hRoCYtYctXRM3/s1600/2+basement.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">I'm super bias but I think it's a pretty great house in a really great city. I have felt overwhelmingly privileged to live here the last 23 months.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "georgia" , serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span>
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2PHzhzs9Kq27wuX01VS8ae0rlj1_p_I4sQdAbedWAJkxU9UjyOmiUmdq_dLOUAyiFDbz1i9BMJypAT52y5YuwlRG3Hu7OqovsurGYpu-WJz-kSHPAcTsdr2Ag72R4kzrzGyZ67ahri1V/s1600/4+bath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2PHzhzs9Kq27wuX01VS8ae0rlj1_p_I4sQdAbedWAJkxU9UjyOmiUmdq_dLOUAyiFDbz1i9BMJypAT52y5YuwlRG3Hu7OqovsurGYpu-WJz-kSHPAcTsdr2Ag72R4kzrzGyZ67ahri1V/s640/4+bath.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">Oh, but now we're moving. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv6eilz42nt-TxfPnU7ItLCXZwKn3GaRK2sMryuA1eXnm9TKHTjmJS0vYD6RkNoKr9EBYVE1N_Gb2r3chpxz7FJchr7-Nl_m11Kmmn-DQYCoAhc8owpQDCGZC0EacKrrXnm2CJhF3B7Guc/s1600/1Laundry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv6eilz42nt-TxfPnU7ItLCXZwKn3GaRK2sMryuA1eXnm9TKHTjmJS0vYD6RkNoKr9EBYVE1N_Gb2r3chpxz7FJchr7-Nl_m11Kmmn-DQYCoAhc8owpQDCGZC0EacKrrXnm2CJhF3B7Guc/s640/1Laundry.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">It's a story for another day, but in short, we're moving to a new state to be with family. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">I guess you could say: we're making a transformation from a truly lovely place to live -- to a life with truly lovely <b>people</b>.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;">Maybe in 2 years I'll have another house of photos to share. But I kind of hope not.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span>Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-77704447043268000062015-12-08T12:00:00.000-08:002015-12-09T08:26:35.718-08:00O Christmas TreeOh, wouldn't it be great to head out to one of the many local Christmas tree farms and cut down our own tree this year? We could come home and decorate it together. What a great Saturday! I can hear the Christmas carols in the background and smell the apple cider on the stove. The laughter. The memories.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp27TSJlbwhWfnCJLweGzZT0b-9tHLhzaipZWCOwgdxHRZnzNM3G8374W9msBJmr3kEVyBLk9cRodN1KtxR6ZTZsijsoTN76vQ4jOVHS9cUJnqFtjulMeUZAyLfng6w0l9vkMWd9pR8rjG/s1600/20151205_125036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp27TSJlbwhWfnCJLweGzZT0b-9tHLhzaipZWCOwgdxHRZnzNM3G8374W9msBJmr3kEVyBLk9cRodN1KtxR6ZTZsijsoTN76vQ4jOVHS9cUJnqFtjulMeUZAyLfng6w0l9vkMWd9pR8rjG/s400/20151205_125036.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><i>{Scritchy-scratchy noise as we cut to reality.}</i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">My children are complaining about turning off the cartoons and my husband won't get off his phone. <i>I try to cheery-disposition my way through it. </i>The kids are excruciatingly cranky and tired from our Thanksgiving travels and will not stop bickering over EVERYTHING. My 7 year old asks if he haaaas to go. <i>I'm mouth-breathing.</i> I trip over the Legos that never get picked up from the dingy "white" living room carpet I keep meaning to shampoo, and I am suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I will have 16 out-of-state house-guests this Christmas - which is only a couple of weeks away. Amidst my face-in-the-carpet epiphany, my boss texts and asks if I can log-into work right away to handle an urgent request.<i> I'm googling nervous breakdown symptoms.</i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vRCGIbnEtHRa2SAWIpqkk_xJ2zkCgdjWdTeojqKByWrI3XO9VkfRGIMHPdPleLP4BZJK48lSZtf3IkYe8lP_lqpDVGj8mMVMJcP6nweyusqN3etpCYVuNy-ItbffP-_XcfYGHSxPQML3/s1600/tree+glee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vRCGIbnEtHRa2SAWIpqkk_xJ2zkCgdjWdTeojqKByWrI3XO9VkfRGIMHPdPleLP4BZJK48lSZtf3IkYe8lP_lqpDVGj8mMVMJcP6nweyusqN3etpCYVuNy-ItbffP-_XcfYGHSxPQML3/s640/tree+glee.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">An hour later and a 15-mile drive through some of the most beautiful Oregon countryside you will ever see (<i>while I try to tune-out my children and silently curse myself for skipping morning coffee</i>) and we're at a glorious tree farm amidst the rolling forests. </span><br />
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Patches of white fog sweep through the acres of green jutting up to the misty, gray skies. <i>For the 5th time I explain to my son that the fog is not "controlled burns." Why do I keep trying?</i></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">We tromp through the sloppy mud and pick a tree from hundreds of beautiful ones that all look the same.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRkK9nzLlVCJ3MogNMmXMav1Qnz_ElprA4qsPNZZpFUXHw2gfrdgruYEz_tQ2UKKAvbizSFoNJQG5f6p81scBuDuYzDLjeYIXAP44kfKlK33b-wcFgS1rKJA6i09E-LGVoqYMcG6JvN7e/s1600/20151205_123823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRkK9nzLlVCJ3MogNMmXMav1Qnz_ElprA4qsPNZZpFUXHw2gfrdgruYEz_tQ2UKKAvbizSFoNJQG5f6p81scBuDuYzDLjeYIXAP44kfKlK33b-wcFgS1rKJA6i09E-LGVoqYMcG6JvN7e/s640/20151205_123823.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">There's fighting over hot chocolate, over who can help carry the saws, over who gets to walk in front. Neither child wants a picture with Santa, or even to talk to him. My husband exudes impatience. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uuOGy88jT2l1Yxb0CnYl2ybUuQaarcZklqjHzlBjM59jdZkKfOpGpOoeuw_vmHVNmXwuGvWFX3k4adzUXI7kjpQQpjsSdKqIkjJ5qIEsjOFgEjlqgrQCAkGBUg-YwGuD3gYrtZfgLDyL/s1600/20151205_124953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uuOGy88jT2l1Yxb0CnYl2ybUuQaarcZklqjHzlBjM59jdZkKfOpGpOoeuw_vmHVNmXwuGvWFX3k4adzUXI7kjpQQpjsSdKqIkjJ5qIEsjOFgEjlqgrQCAkGBUg-YwGuD3gYrtZfgLDyL/s640/20151205_124953.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Wait now, we still have a tree nearly sliding off the top of the car, so very much mud and pine needles on that "white" carpet, too small of a tree stand, too big of a tree for the room, broken Christmas lights, me decorating the tree solo, and of course, endless more bickering to endure before this Saturday will come to a close. <i>{Sigh}</i></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPEaVGIJNXse3_urGihpt6kcK1SkNowy5zTd3MTyW7cTSoiBY4IrmfnmXmx-SMqFDAgs9N1iEyU2wr-74BVxAsYzGIc2xNomV-RA07b3NTyMyJcvOXZrUCjabSUCI-SnqVzPIKcuEeZOOT/s1600/tree+cold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPEaVGIJNXse3_urGihpt6kcK1SkNowy5zTd3MTyW7cTSoiBY4IrmfnmXmx-SMqFDAgs9N1iEyU2wr-74BVxAsYzGIc2xNomV-RA07b3NTyMyJcvOXZrUCjabSUCI-SnqVzPIKcuEeZOOT/s640/tree+cold.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Instead of simply sharing the lovely green photos, <i>one of which 2 out of 3 people even managed a smile in</i>, I feel apt to admit that real-life is sometimes less than picturesque. </span><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/AVvXsEjZRjyUU9GJPMmok6GwhtbEIvrBINzfzCgFqYhyphenhyphenbeDNNFxeq8tir60N9UC1s0n3psargtcBhfl_zDBa23UNJKSJFJ4kEEAlDNbt0xigP2bvq8qYF_11fK5oeawMlSEuz1KB8FeA1GG5iCDb/s1600/20151205_125408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRjyUU9GJPMmok6GwhtbEIvrBINzfzCgFqYhyphenhyphenbeDNNFxeq8tir60N9UC1s0n3psargtcBhfl_zDBa23UNJKSJFJ4kEEAlDNbt0xigP2bvq8qYF_11fK5oeawMlSEuz1KB8FeA1GG5iCDb/s320/20151205_125408.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">If there's no cocoa or carols for you, if your favorite ornaments get broken or you're decorating alone this year... if there's just a lot of mud, take heart friend. </span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">May the hope of Christmas seep in to calm our stress and comfort our hearts.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMvQ9gfhojbLSYzx7U7d7uE6gPD1KAAfNOd8abAKIvBCDvUHqMXHgbNf3NO29SeEpZhsfipuoR-6X1y572WVV532RR7IyRxl3nfdNSF-IVxi8NjcQjLxjucflzg_Iuc3ugYwZqilGyx1e/s1600/tree+God.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMvQ9gfhojbLSYzx7U7d7uE6gPD1KAAfNOd8abAKIvBCDvUHqMXHgbNf3NO29SeEpZhsfipuoR-6X1y572WVV532RR7IyRxl3nfdNSF-IVxi8NjcQjLxjucflzg_Iuc3ugYwZqilGyx1e/s640/tree+God.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Merry Christmas.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9TU3yZhzw_evbnQNBQiiKgpNLdUJp0ox60SlLX-FXOR7pKBxNHfkTzaeasafvq_u-LBw2rS-QsmmoVwcbIJQV7dSCt81ORHRkQCEDoy9VKISYPGWMwN4cHNJVhHX5u86iWyIZ2gw3Qt5/s1600/IMG_8195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9TU3yZhzw_evbnQNBQiiKgpNLdUJp0ox60SlLX-FXOR7pKBxNHfkTzaeasafvq_u-LBw2rS-QsmmoVwcbIJQV7dSCt81ORHRkQCEDoy9VKISYPGWMwN4cHNJVhHX5u86iWyIZ2gw3Qt5/s320/IMG_8195.JPG" width="189" /></a></div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-32194694406752788012015-10-30T10:22:00.000-07:002018-10-30T13:10:56.152-07:00Fight Like a Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e06666;">Happy October y'all. Slipping in here at the end of the month, here's my nod to <a href="http://lovelywithaside.blogspot.com/2013/10/breast-cancer-awareness.html" target="_blank">Breast Cancer Awareness Month</a>. </span><span style="color: #e06666;">I wrote it a few years ago. The children have grown and the shirt has shrunk. But the sentiments remain.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhnQ6RYqHvUE7hhuQD5OoLr1Mn2-eQ9VaDgwz0axh7tIfPyiUfTxPPGGBcVkanY1fSktH1rnDORMIkvbVdqQ-6AP0aQ-Ek7xumoalH0K87w-OLNszge4H0-mdIadWKPTDK_fu9SQtsKgqg/s1600/fight+like+a+girl2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhnQ6RYqHvUE7hhuQD5OoLr1Mn2-eQ9VaDgwz0axh7tIfPyiUfTxPPGGBcVkanY1fSktH1rnDORMIkvbVdqQ-6AP0aQ-Ek7xumoalH0K87w-OLNszge4H0-mdIadWKPTDK_fu9SQtsKgqg/s640/fight+like+a+girl2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The majority of little boys like to fight. <br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, my toddler daughter is something of a scrapper, too. Try to take her toy, or worse, her food, and you're sure to be pounded with a high-pitched scream and perhaps an assaulting little fist to go with it. I wouldn't say this makes me proud, but I am glad she is learning to daily hold her own against her 5-year old brother.<br />
<br />
It's her brother, though, who takes joy in fighting - or rather, the idea of fighting. Books and shows on karate, ninjas, warriors, or soldiers are pretty much a guaranteed win with him. He and is father are often practicing Krav Maga or Jiu-Jitsu moves together or spending some time with the heavy bags in the garage. <em>Er, make that 1 heavy bag + 1 air-filled balloon in the shape of a heavy bag.</em> My son also proudly has his own set of boxing gloves, like his daddy's, and can't wait to also start taking fight classes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33DfxOYlryR1gohxlVaTq55ahaYFdTqj38sX9j9pBgLstH67oYUZzVhLpjjt-d5cOvLHXnA3uqFXMi0nJ43yRmJR83FsanhWHpX2dgvKMChIkIQifP0ff8OBZ69YkNW-9BU5uhczP3KFB/s1600/IMG_4048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33DfxOYlryR1gohxlVaTq55ahaYFdTqj38sX9j9pBgLstH67oYUZzVhLpjjt-d5cOvLHXnA3uqFXMi0nJ43yRmJR83FsanhWHpX2dgvKMChIkIQifP0ff8OBZ69YkNW-9BU5uhczP3KFB/s320/IMG_4048.JPG" width="222" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjpHJ137rYJNygqgiYfYVRvPDyhen7KDazbCc6BGYQDjdZ9v05_kGETO-wJpZ09xtHJbQ1PUqXj7-2CqeGh8x1H3MSFnkkcoT2jfWjh_Gn5ZTfR8j_MFRntx3bfhWbzNv5pW_2RUOzV2N/s1600/IMG_4049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjpHJ137rYJNygqgiYfYVRvPDyhen7KDazbCc6BGYQDjdZ9v05_kGETO-wJpZ09xtHJbQ1PUqXj7-2CqeGh8x1H3MSFnkkcoT2jfWjh_Gn5ZTfR8j_MFRntx3bfhWbzNv5pW_2RUOzV2N/s320/IMG_4049.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It's my son who is growing up with the aspiration to be tough. While my husband and I are struggling to raise him into a man of character, I'm pretty sure he just wants to be strong and able to fight off bad guys.<br />
<br />
So, my Little Ninja is particularly interested in a shirt I occasionally wear that reads, "I Fight Like a Girl." I tried to explain to him what this shirt means... How I am proud to be counted among the group of women who have had to surmount a cancer diagnosis and treatment. ...How difficult it is to fight against a disease, when the fight is for your life. <em>(Try explaining that in Kindergartner, non-scary language.)</em><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHEzQzOOhNo79rkOMmpnhfqq5COLhuC8IzvJfHoUpMhod4j2R0ZdXrmiioEhiJLl-KheycQY9Wv7lEu9tBKbXrb9JxbQqdhLyhU1jh5OeOJFUfaGJBxUmPHosfEd6etd7JnOtRV5zmJaO/s1600/gloves.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHEzQzOOhNo79rkOMmpnhfqq5COLhuC8IzvJfHoUpMhod4j2R0ZdXrmiioEhiJLl-KheycQY9Wv7lEu9tBKbXrb9JxbQqdhLyhU1jh5OeOJFUfaGJBxUmPHosfEd6etd7JnOtRV5zmJaO/s200/gloves.png" width="111" /></a>Little Ninja has never heard, "fight like a girl" in it's original, negative context. Rather, it's quite a compliment. I, of course, am quite pleased by that. And it's got me pondering all the emotions wrapped up in this one shirt I sometimes wear.<br />
<br />
I hope that my son will grow up maintaining this understanding of girls/women that is free from assumptions of inferiority and instead latent with respect.<br />
<br />
I hope my children will grow up to have compassion for the suffering and gratitude for the blessings that befall them. I hope they will learn to daily recognize and appreciate the good things - starting with their health.<br />
<br />
I hope they will continue to have good health.<br />
<br />
I hope that my daughter, that my nieces - that no one in the generations to come - will ever have to grow up and find themselves having to fight like a girl against cancer.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">The many women who have lost their lives to the disease, the women who have been fortunate enough to treat it successfully: they have all faced a host of terrible, have endured and coped - for however long they did. That's tough.</span><br />
<br />Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-1845205288795062042015-09-22T15:57:00.000-07:002015-09-22T15:57:33.143-07:00Pets<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJV4RVbMycMlwq71lhsU6pZvV53hiyIx13KtdKERzbIlLVFgjxSjN2zyxFRKB8EOXSasfkGTv5Kjry2Se3lPIrWb3nNfzuDDZf3QqLGuI9aWzUkNnp6ju6mpqsVY5NtRMX7nK8eHIB1FIn/s1600/blog+pets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJV4RVbMycMlwq71lhsU6pZvV53hiyIx13KtdKERzbIlLVFgjxSjN2zyxFRKB8EOXSasfkGTv5Kjry2Se3lPIrWb3nNfzuDDZf3QqLGuI9aWzUkNnp6ju6mpqsVY5NtRMX7nK8eHIB1FIn/s1600/blog+pets.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
Pets.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
I love them. Well, sort of.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
Sometimes I see someone squatting on the side of the road picking up their dog's poop with a plastic sack and I think to myself, "Humans are so strange."</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
Yet I, myself, have picked up many a bag of dog poop in my day.<br />
<br />
Those little 4-legged friends can be such sweet companions. Plus, there can be benefits to pet ownership even beyond relational joys and therapeutic effects:<br />
<br />
Dogs are great for security... Cats are great for rodents... Chickens are great for eggs... Sheep are great for fields of grass... Fish... uh, decorating dentist waiting rooms...? Birds, bunnies, hamsters, snakes... ... ... I don't know, but people enjoy having them in their home. </div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
We innately like to cohabitate and share our homesteads not only with other humans but often also with critters. Or sometimes with critters<i> instead </i>of other humans. </div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
My dear pal wrote a post, "<a href="http://themomiwanttobe.com/october-for-breast-cancer-not-pit-bulls/" target="_blank">October: For Breast Cancer Not Pit Bulls</a>" and received dozens of angry replies at her suggestion that human life should invariably take precedence over animals' lives and welfare. As I read through the comments of<strike> mostly-illogical</strike> highly-emotional arguments, one sad person's reply in particular has stayed with me. She said people had let her down but her dog never had.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">
I read that as an example of the harshness of life. How tragic that we are a people who hurt <span style="font-size: 16px;">each other </span>and are so disconnected from each other that animals rise in standing on par with or above other humans.<br />
<div style="font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px;">
I firmly believe pets hold a valuable role in our lives. That's not in question here. (Okay, so now would NOT be a great time to go back and read the entire piece I wrote on <a href="http://lovelywithaside.blogspot.com/2013/08/pet-ownership-rabbit-cages.html" target="_blank">the pointlessness of rabbit ownership</a>.) But also - and much more so - <b>we need human relationships. Healthy ones.</b></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br />
I find it curious that often, instead of nurturing and serving others, we anoint our pets with souls and diamond-studded collars. We <a href="http://wallstreetflaneur.com/doggies-at-the-dinner-table-pet-humanization-in-america/#axzz3iitqoURZ" target="_blank">humanize </a>our animals.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjMvb8iLlvsYAi1HRYyeCog-Z0wm5J06gVAb5brIJwKmwxaY35ZBkELtgRlo7sKYRkn26FXlcRSIRJpaPPIcm-5E9hiH6eHdVdFleHghnyle5D7s1-5T5BKLLyAyfRSNnBh6I38zGAK0q/s1600/blog+figures.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjMvb8iLlvsYAi1HRYyeCog-Z0wm5J06gVAb5brIJwKmwxaY35ZBkELtgRlo7sKYRkn26FXlcRSIRJpaPPIcm-5E9hiH6eHdVdFleHghnyle5D7s1-5T5BKLLyAyfRSNnBh6I38zGAK0q/s1600/blog+figures.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999;">Graph source: www.fool.com</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
Currently, we're between pets in my household.<br />
<br />
Well, that is, if you don't count the hairy caterpillar living in an atrium box in the center of our dining room table. <br />
<br />
My <span style="font-size: 12pt;">7-year old has been pining for a pet for a couple of years now. I am, however, pretty sure his motivation is primarily born from a peer group of 2nd graders who view pets as status symbols. Plus, he </span>forgets to drink water routinely and is<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> not very good at wiping his own butt, so he surely can't be relied upon to be a responsible pet owner.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And then there's my 3-year old daughter, who has literally made friends with every dog in a 1-mile radius; it feels a tad cruel not allowing such an innate affection to cultivate. She, however, forgets to put the lid on her caterpillar (which I feed and give water), and so hunting for "Wooly" in our very large dining area is becoming about as common as finding streak marks in my sons underwear. I'm just hoping she doesn't "pet" the poor thing to death.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">So, as you can tell, we (meaning I) am pretty primed for a pet. After all, we do own our home and have a good size yard, so there aren't a lot of excuses that remain. <i>Well, other than that my sick body already struggles to keep up with the demands of the two mini-humans (and one husband-sized human) I take care of. And that pets are expensive. They are a </i></span><i>commitment</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i> for many years. They require a lot of attention and care. </i>Right, not much to stop us now.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">But more to the point, even if I find myself back to taking walks with sacks of steamy dog poop in my hand, or even branch out to get my very own bunny to wake the neighbors, any pet of ours will remain simply and firmly-situated in their status as a pet -- an animal with limits on the time, money, and love they will receive.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Oh, I'm sure the time, money and love afforded it will be aplenty. But I hope that "plenty" will fall short of what we are willing to devote to other people in our lives. Helpless and innocent or not, <b>people </b>need our time, affection, and sympathy far more than any pet needs to be treated like a human.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zXjbspZ8aTPUo6Lc1IqzcGJUFHn10uSyQI2iZ5a842rwiebIktWI0o_8ECDOxjH20CBWFxDr0QiqlgqnPFhHKRkxUGW5Gx7uhyphenhyphenwAVwUmpNNGJNrN-55IwLey1u2PDkThDqKBMX157zgH/s1600/pet+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zXjbspZ8aTPUo6Lc1IqzcGJUFHn10uSyQI2iZ5a842rwiebIktWI0o_8ECDOxjH20CBWFxDr0QiqlgqnPFhHKRkxUGW5Gx7uhyphenhyphenwAVwUmpNNGJNrN-55IwLey1u2PDkThDqKBMX157zgH/s640/pet+collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<i>If this makes you want to angrily argue about the value of animal lives, </i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<i>post on <a href="http://themomiwanttobe.com/october-for-breast-cancer-not-pit-bulls/" target="_blank">my friend's blog</a>. She likes that sort of thing.</i> </div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-74804165771401419412015-04-11T12:24:00.000-07:002015-04-14T08:02:24.967-07:00I just noticed "die" is the first part of diet.<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnaLWHWK620gAMzVsUtnO4n5GCWADtK3XXlIKRYZxIOWH3E17ZabnXGQsyKTvyY9f_x7cPkULAC7fTAWFA0AOyqu4TzCBc0uvD-sqtN73Vx_k4UiCGHduTWjrQ-GtYXoNzgZ9Mp6QhpGlD/s1600/eat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnaLWHWK620gAMzVsUtnO4n5GCWADtK3XXlIKRYZxIOWH3E17ZabnXGQsyKTvyY9f_x7cPkULAC7fTAWFA0AOyqu4TzCBc0uvD-sqtN73Vx_k4UiCGHduTWjrQ-GtYXoNzgZ9Mp6QhpGlD/s1600/eat.jpg" height="160" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
It has been a nightmare. It is sapping my energy and depressing
me into states of melancholy and self-loathing. I can’t stop thinking about the
pure misery of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is a diet. A terrible, spawned-from-the-devil, diet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m on day three.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, I just said three. That is “all” you say? Oh, don’t you
dare! <i>I will punch something angrily! I
will cry despairingly. ...For the love of God (who I do love), let me have a cup of coffee. With
lots of cream. Or a hunk of bread. With lots of butter. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alright look, I might be getting a little dramatic. And perhaps ever so slightly
delusional. But I’m really hungry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Did I mention I'm on a diet? Yes, so it’s day three of no:
wheat/gluten/yeast, dairy products, eggs, almonds, oats, corn, beans, bananas,
pineapple, coffee, chocolate… or, roughly classified as:<b> food</b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
My blood recently tested as having a reaction to all of those foods and so this is a couple month to perhaps a lifetime, cold-turkey... <i>bah, turkey: one of the few foods I can eat</i>... elimination to help with some residual arthritis/post-cancer problems.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On day one of said diet I was very late for work because, instead
of getting up to face the day – mainly the task of trying to find something to
eat, I laid in bed hungrily instead. You don’t have to eat if you’re (pretending
to be) asleep, right? Later in the morning I indulgently went to Whole Foods to
console myself with a $7 (gross) hemp smoothie to go with my frighteningly expensive
one bag of groceries – only to realize the smoothie had banana in it and so was
off my list. I almost slumped down onto the eco-friendly floors and cried out
from my knees, “whhhhhhy?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have slogged through some pretty horrendous things in life,
(like many people.) If I wasn't so hungry right now, it might be amusing that a
very restrictive diet is undoing me. Plus, I have been dragging an aching body
around for five years now; the immobility and painful hobbles this diet is
meant to help should be bolstering my resolve. I <i>should</i> be standing on my
mountain of earned badges of fortitude, pumping my fist into the air while
chanting, "I got this too. Yeah Baby!"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But really, I’m just hungry. (Sorry, did I already mention
that?) And I’m tired of a body that I don’t understand and can’t keep up with
me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It used to bother me that I had become an emblem to incite
gratitude in others – as in, “At least I’m not her.” I don’t mind that so much
anymore. (<i>But, Dear Husband, please drink your coffee somewhere else before I
strangle you to merely get a good whiff of that deliciousness.) </i> Right, so to the contrary, I’m glad I can
help. Because, all jokes aside, I <i>can</i> help you. And so, not for
the sake of garnering your sympathy but for brightening your perspective, I tell you this story. (And all the others.) I
can help you realize your day is not so bad, your problems not so big. Your pain is not so deep.
And when it is or when they are, <span style="font-size: large;">you too will survive.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
You might not be pumping your fist through it, but you will
wake up again tomorrow – and maybe then the smoothie won’t have banana in it. Or even better, someone will make some bacon.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIVaqomJLJhgeIvWmx2WUeouAs86HSFUmENrkbPRHakuSYaRJKuTzC1Rhuizm25EjQSKMjXj9eV_Cj1r3SvLQPAoDu-gl8GkJOoauVpdqSlV_655qnvX5M5K8mY47F6EY3yB4f0E1OXuz/s1600/1bottom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIVaqomJLJhgeIvWmx2WUeouAs86HSFUmENrkbPRHakuSYaRJKuTzC1Rhuizm25EjQSKMjXj9eV_Cj1r3SvLQPAoDu-gl8GkJOoauVpdqSlV_655qnvX5M5K8mY47F6EY3yB4f0E1OXuz/s1600/1bottom.jpg" height="188" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you have any tips, favorite recipes, or comments, please share!</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-84452142833320530082015-02-05T20:46:00.000-08:002015-02-05T20:46:32.170-08:00Home on the Range<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvkSbzbU_Qx6mTKMrDFVuqhLqDZOqYi6_-b9hjaeDrrYa-buUgBb523FoV-aFR-EMfUqMtgWuI51uThDRXy37XNg4ppi2rFXEdSmFDiEp2tPq-dVxkdFXCng13eAuzQwWSU6OMkrpBC3R/s1600/chinup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvkSbzbU_Qx6mTKMrDFVuqhLqDZOqYi6_-b9hjaeDrrYa-buUgBb523FoV-aFR-EMfUqMtgWuI51uThDRXy37XNg4ppi2rFXEdSmFDiEp2tPq-dVxkdFXCng13eAuzQwWSU6OMkrpBC3R/s1600/chinup.jpg" height="484" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">Well howdy there folks! Come ride along with this here g'hal for one hog-killin of a time. <i>[Because I just used "hog" and "killin" in describing my day, this is sure to be good.]</i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; line-height: normal;">
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;">We're gonna get on up with the sun and get a wiggle on. Time's a wasting.</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;">Chickabiddies are up and at em, so it surely won't be long 'for they're starting trouble and asking for grub. Get yerself some six-shooter coffee cause it's gonna be a long one.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">This here lady of the house has to get on the ol boss-man's 'puter and work. Course, the homestead is hurtin for some cleaning, and there's paintin and all manner of you name it to git done round the place. And there's always fixings needing done and made. Sure as a gun, moren three times a day these peckish horses are buckin for grub. <i>[Can I feed them beans in a can if I call it "grub"?]</i> It's up to me to keep this place in apple pie order.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhz8cBGOvTGrOvDXOAv6V06rPR6jpKzDoUzyhVt3XsNif_yP5vrAqlK27xbMBwyXp_bxdJjnNaU6jzitWIvzocRH5XZ0Hts8RtnlJylv77fG-ANgQlA9dQZrY0ZSUcUJ8JNZ0ovtwaJla/s1600/cowboy2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhz8cBGOvTGrOvDXOAv6V06rPR6jpKzDoUzyhVt3XsNif_yP5vrAqlK27xbMBwyXp_bxdJjnNaU6jzitWIvzocRH5XZ0Hts8RtnlJylv77fG-ANgQlA9dQZrY0ZSUcUJ8JNZ0ovtwaJla/s1600/cowboy2.jpg" height="242" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">I've got me a little filly who so often blusters "Mommy, look at me," and "Mommy will you play with me?" I sometimes want to cut stick and hide out in a dark well with some firewater. I've also got a lil broomie chap who I've a mind to keep watch on all his going-ons, and he'll be needin some help with his learnin.<i> [I might have just created the greatest nickname ever for him: "lil broomie chap." Yes!]</i></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">Yep. This here folk, is some darn excitin' (</span><span style="color: #783f04; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">mid-30's) life on the range. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">I say though, this life ain't for the weak. We best pull them boots right on and just keep on.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;">And bully for you and me when we do, cause by gum, days are hard. We must <b>keep them eyes on the veins of gold hidden right fronta us</b>. Theyr there. Them smiles and good amongst the helter-skelter.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Come sun down, when you're nearbouts all played out, plumb tired from a day chock full o work, best to douse the lights and say a prayer o thanks. Sunup tomorrow, </span><span style="font-size: large;">chin up</span><span style="font-size: 15px;">, cause it's kit and caboodle over again. Brisk up and buck up Ma. Yourn need that right attitude.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">If this barrel o' kicks has got you angling, well then, you're my Huckleberry.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4qsCoGTgGSsTdpdy8lCebylCICWTXnO_9TGUS3G2uC_ZAnsSNhCYOpVKvxLqXz9NCyeKOcHLntgqa2HWRAvI9Geje43k0IGXD3Ca7UW6LQvpdep8rU4_zz00g-i10u8jpxxZLEBTxYR4u/s1600/cowboy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4qsCoGTgGSsTdpdy8lCebylCICWTXnO_9TGUS3G2uC_ZAnsSNhCYOpVKvxLqXz9NCyeKOcHLntgqa2HWRAvI9Geje43k0IGXD3Ca7UW6LQvpdep8rU4_zz00g-i10u8jpxxZLEBTxYR4u/s1600/cowboy.jpg" height="153" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">* Thank you to: </span></span><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">www.legendsofamerica.com for help with my old west lingo. </span></span></span></div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-86423212267493331212015-01-20T22:43:00.000-08:002015-01-20T22:43:41.626-08:00Aboard the Peer Pressure Train<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/AVvXsEjQINI1WgZ9XU-d_c8YTW7L9zPFS6dAk43-RaF3srBHE-7PumergGojjVV9lrsGHiZNG91BN5tZ3v-Hu4d1XCd6W_3Q1B2co8_wjUdLiRLSMrtzoFaGo4ZnUMLjK9JFGVvWugJNUsanGdFJ/s1600/toocool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQINI1WgZ9XU-d_c8YTW7L9zPFS6dAk43-RaF3srBHE-7PumergGojjVV9lrsGHiZNG91BN5tZ3v-Hu4d1XCd6W_3Q1B2co8_wjUdLiRLSMrtzoFaGo4ZnUMLjK9JFGVvWugJNUsanGdFJ/s1600/toocool.jpg" height="400" width="303" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
What just happened?<br />
<br />
Why did my sweet kindergartner transform - no mutate - into a socially-aware first grader floundering in a pool of peer pressure that he hasn't yet learned to swim through?<br />
<br />
I woke up one morning and wasn't aloud to lay out his clothes for him anymore. Like, "one morning" a couple weeks ago. Look, I already have one 3-year-old Prima Donna who fights for the same sequin purple dress 365 mornings a year - rain or shine, freezing or not. I can't handle a boy version, too.<br />
<br />
<i>Your jeans aren't skinny enough? Your sweater is too puffy? Your jacket has to have a hood? Pants can't be brown?</i> No. No, I am not okay with this. Please revert back to putting on whatever outfit your (still-hip) mother has purchased, cleaned, picked-out, and perhaps ironed for you.<br />
<br />
I've started encouraging my son to pick out clothes the night before school days - in a painstaking process of barter where logic is the goal. <i>No, you can not wear short-sleeves in 30' weather. No, you just wore that shirt yesterday</i>.... But then, the freshly-donned fashion-virtuoso will change his mind in the morning and we start all over again. Anything that can possibly be construed as not grown-up, not-normal, not-cool enough in his irregular and irrational book of standards, is vetoed.<br />
<br />
Am I airing my son's dirty laundry right now? (Pun completely intended.) Yes, yes I am. Because it's absurd. Or I'm having trouble letting go. Or both.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0_-1q6vAnBi7ny_wK_FwIGFwXH7gd0udRtEjFQetCtGf8T4jK3bSbl_W5EPqMV3PAUBaUH_hyCIIbu66gdxiWknMguiWS6a-v96D6cSaA_UO4k8EEa1lKcdja0OrMOrQIAWDSPFln_VV/s1600/laundry.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0_-1q6vAnBi7ny_wK_FwIGFwXH7gd0udRtEjFQetCtGf8T4jK3bSbl_W5EPqMV3PAUBaUH_hyCIIbu66gdxiWknMguiWS6a-v96D6cSaA_UO4k8EEa1lKcdja0OrMOrQIAWDSPFln_VV/s1600/laundry.png" height="99" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
There was no easement into this social awareness. Yesterday, everyone was still fun and intrinsically equal, judged only by their ability to adhere to classroom rules and basic standards of normalcy. I mean, you could literally poop your pants in class and still be a good play-mate. Today, the rules have completely changed for the little person I am witnessing them through. Any and all diversions from standard now render one susceptible to ridicule.<br />
<br />
My son is clearly caught in a struggle between still enjoying the Star Wars jammies and toy figures of last year and aspiring to the skinny jeans, gelled hair, and zombie video games of this year.<br />
<br />
The other day, after four hours in a children's museum, which, I point out, he thoroughly enjoyed, we walked across the parking lot to a derailed train on exhibit. He was interested and impressed. But then MotherDear made what was apparently a huge mistake and asked to take his picture in the engineer's seat. Only with his eyes rolled back and tongue stuck out was such a picture to be allowed. And then he proceeded to scowl sulkily at me for my transgression.<br />
<br />
Why did this a-moment-ago-happy child buck so at the picture? After all, did I not just endure multiple coffee-less hours on a repeat-visit to a crowded Boredom-of-Parents-Museum for his sake? Why such ingratitude? Why such a hard time over a picture?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98r7fkM75N22UkxXfS1EXsKRj5O87GCutrDQqzKZEFAuMIU5wI3TpxiGB9zALwlHrRW8GSuVITu-MtVkRa2mswzzujRT3bDozv8evZzA8LJujOdZlHjht6A0dIyrdm_uRjDGbwxGdYLrY/s1600/trainedit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98r7fkM75N22UkxXfS1EXsKRj5O87GCutrDQqzKZEFAuMIU5wI3TpxiGB9zALwlHrRW8GSuVITu-MtVkRa2mswzzujRT3bDozv8evZzA8LJujOdZlHjht6A0dIyrdm_uRjDGbwxGdYLrY/s1600/trainedit.jpg" height="241" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
After many, many minutes of discussion - because I am determined to be a parent who at least attempts to curb insubordination and bad attitudes from my little charges, this one spills that a picture on a train "would make him feel like a baby." He didn't want me to share with others his interest in the train, as in, "Thomas the Train or something."<br />
<br />
Oh good, so he wasn't just being a little brat. At least he had a reason.<br />
<br />
But now we're back to this budding little, too-cool attitude.<br />
<br />
Inadvertently (because our family often plays the best-part-of-your-day/worst-part-of-your-day game over dinner), the train incident became a major topic of discussion that evening. So there my husband and I were again, having yet another long - unsuccessful - conversation on being your own person and not succumbing to teasing or peer pressure. (And, let us not forget, not being rude to Mom.)<br />
<i><br /></i>
We reason through our son's irrationality. We discipline his bad behavior; encourage and reward the good. We cheer-lead him into having confidence. We implore him to follow <u>good</u> examples. We listen, encourage... all that stuff you're supposed to do as parents.<br />
<br />
And it usually doesn't work.<br />
<i><br /></i>
I mean really, how do you teach a kid to be himself? To hold fast to the morals he is taught at home? To not care what his peers snicker about?<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure you don't.<br />
<br />
At least not right away. You try. And you try again. And sometimes it kind of sticks or sticks for a while. But, in the early years, it seems like you just pay attention to who their friends are, you have the seemingly fruitless conversations over and over again, try to give them confidence and humility (<a href="http://lovelywithaside.blogspot.com/2014/05/fighting-for-humility.html" target="_blank">so, so difficult</a>), and then you just push them out the door to begin the long path toward the maturity of figuring it out for themselves.<br />
<br />
Repetition wins this parenting race, I'm afraid.<br />
<br />Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-9442369999191634622014-11-08T14:39:00.001-08:002018-03-15T15:05:24.389-07:00Enjoy the Show<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclzvhPOXi1qJlSHa24uiiQJVKUGrIOpxC_cHKAB95dNocWk5uR3uFAY9NowPQGCYsK43iuMnQHkkZjJ0Rt-1c_wZXC27jhqnCCdDWGGtKxUPyyArxFoPwvE-yd5HvjJ-yRs27pm2c-HAn/s1600/pin+this2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclzvhPOXi1qJlSHa24uiiQJVKUGrIOpxC_cHKAB95dNocWk5uR3uFAY9NowPQGCYsK43iuMnQHkkZjJ0Rt-1c_wZXC27jhqnCCdDWGGtKxUPyyArxFoPwvE-yd5HvjJ-yRs27pm2c-HAn/s640/pin+this2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Let me welcome you to our house. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"></span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Immediately on your right when you step in is a formal living room. Because we're big on first impressions, it still contains moving boxes of decorations that have yet to be hung in rooms that have yet to be painted. No matter that we moved in five months ago. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"></span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Oh, and there's no furniture, well, none save the collection of unplaced side tables I have crammed in one corner. </span><span style="text-align: center;">We like to call this room "The Lego Room" since they regularly strew the carpet where furniture should be.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: center;">In addition to serving as the collecting place for Lego's, children's toys in general, and all things miscellaneous, this grand room has also has held wrestling matches, dance-offs, book fairs and library openings, farmer's markets, and most often, concerts. </span></div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzMK-PtELr4c50jc5MCA_w6q8v4RZcRzPuL66ygemYgDsgAPDfiwVR9Gydx_ZT9IfB7EUYtWT2WB3i4IeBksaTQLx3Kz68Jl4XsVpoOCC9p8Gk_AIASzZuG2dJtG1XAeAwuPaXBv7WNfZ/s1600/lego.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzMK-PtELr4c50jc5MCA_w6q8v4RZcRzPuL66ygemYgDsgAPDfiwVR9Gydx_ZT9IfB7EUYtWT2WB3i4IeBksaTQLx3Kz68Jl4XsVpoOCC9p8Gk_AIASzZuG2dJtG1XAeAwuPaXBv7WNfZ/s1600/lego.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="border-image: none;">
</div>
</div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="text-align: center;">If you've visited us in the past couple months, chances are you have been treated to a performance on a cardboard stage in this fine arena with dingy white carpet. The show likely consisted primarily of a tall, skinny kid with one missing front tooth shuffling his feet and thinking he looks pretty awesome "dancing" for you.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">Usually there's an accompanying little drummer in a princess dress who beats on a cardboard box with a curtain rod that has yet to be hung. (Why do they love those curtain rod-sword-lightsaber-mallets so?) The little drummer will occasionally rise for a solo rendering of "Jesus Loves Me" or perhaps "Twinkle, Twinkle." </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"></span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Then it's back to more of the Fast Feet Kid, until about the time the audience concludes their clapping with loud, suggestive compliments about the show - in the past-tense, hoping to in fact bring about it's conclusion.</span><span style="text-align: center;"></span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: center;">There may be tickets, wrist bands, seat assignments, refreshments... you name it. As I was informed last time, there is not, however, any flash photography permitted. So you'll have to come see for yourselves.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqvzLvBNmKr5v42Hz1DMiIaBAdqc5eyVCH3yLD2F_uvhguEjXX8AJDz3Mc7miNNVHZbskViGhnD8TIM0PCwcNGKueNEGx16l70T1qSuMsnuqzP-JMZlxWSVJxjA4a0vCguZpTfG8asGBu4/s1600/IMG_6969e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqvzLvBNmKr5v42Hz1DMiIaBAdqc5eyVCH3yLD2F_uvhguEjXX8AJDz3Mc7miNNVHZbskViGhnD8TIM0PCwcNGKueNEGx16l70T1qSuMsnuqzP-JMZlxWSVJxjA4a0vCguZpTfG8asGBu4/s1600/IMG_6969e.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">While I would very much like to have furniture in this room, and would very, very much like to no longer have boxes and stacked projects (and those dang curtain rod/weapons), I must admit that a big, empty room is pretty convenient with kids. Even if it is right off the entryway... with a huge picture window looking out onto the sidewalk for all to see.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"></span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">So this here is my anti-pin. It is me saying, no Pinteresters, <span style="font-size: large;">every room is not perfect in a normal house</span>. Nor does it have to be. Sometimes a room just needs to sit empty or messy - or both - for five months. Or ten.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"></span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">I like to call this "embracing the practical." It is enjoying the cardboard stage from the endless boxes.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
It is enjoying<span style="text-align: center;"> the show.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGx0vSUpKzPCvZ-D4nQalEdoG_VfxHUh4W4cwQAQMwx03cRTlUEY9-qEMlp4OXpAOSjaVdxR90eWNbRtsp8bmNjqmI_CpYeGZzgyJgeKHA-4O4k9YXhg4_F2nIHbe5uRy0nFv6P7VeYzX/s1600/enjoyshow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGx0vSUpKzPCvZ-D4nQalEdoG_VfxHUh4W4cwQAQMwx03cRTlUEY9-qEMlp4OXpAOSjaVdxR90eWNbRtsp8bmNjqmI_CpYeGZzgyJgeKHA-4O4k9YXhg4_F2nIHbe5uRy0nFv6P7VeYzX/s1600/enjoyshow.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-12377769975887744202014-10-16T13:09:00.000-07:002014-10-16T13:09:19.604-07:00Pinktober<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Here we are, October again. If you're feeling the pink-love this month, check out</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lovelywithaside.blogspot.com/2013/10/breast-cancer-awareness.html" target="_blank">my favorite 5 Ways to Show Support for the Cause.</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wua13bIDk8w6oZw3OfDFo-ExhQSDRy0qLkoKOL_4IoH04KVcnEGb-KwmWacR6Idh-ZjwlSLhuyL_Yu02jvBimhTmbCR73fzW4OdfQbPvELYL6HXMkKtpSwPxJuSQiQ55I0Q4vxVUWU2z/s1600/pink+collage.jpg" height="393" width="640" /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-50326281356045826202014-10-08T12:33:00.000-07:002014-10-08T12:33:42.549-07:00LovelyLife: Ballerina Darth <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIHD47yWRh-w_jmaxZ8qTB6PRiM5c5oxhtblgzdM1OiQwrZzrHjS2B9Vs4jqaiubwrU8xVa-M3p2edYxooU0baQs9OmYSqhHztkbTN0b_dCKIXZFkxDim6vmU6t-vaHNlP-ccYmrTuQw8/s1600/IMG_6835e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIHD47yWRh-w_jmaxZ8qTB6PRiM5c5oxhtblgzdM1OiQwrZzrHjS2B9Vs4jqaiubwrU8xVa-M3p2edYxooU0baQs9OmYSqhHztkbTN0b_dCKIXZFkxDim6vmU6t-vaHNlP-ccYmrTuQw8/s1600/IMG_6835e.jpg" height="640" width="428" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Luke, I am your Ballerina Mother."</span></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div align="center">
The unification of girly propensities with aspirations to mimic a big brother create some comical composites.</div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-67830253977137373662014-10-01T09:28:00.003-07:002014-10-01T09:39:58.332-07:00LovelyLife: Umbrellas and Rainbows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuEIudSyCdLzCrrQVb3QurkBawYn7Plxe_Oi3qbwE85B604dRo-NeIN4lJWDQ7Ae6Ex4zy5312LVxIj9pZt7gfm5ZTorm-xM-H7E0k64eW_0uauWKZKFos9MD5sZrZM4BlrbbbCoBoQw0/s1600/umb+rainb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuEIudSyCdLzCrrQVb3QurkBawYn7Plxe_Oi3qbwE85B604dRo-NeIN4lJWDQ7Ae6Ex4zy5312LVxIj9pZt7gfm5ZTorm-xM-H7E0k64eW_0uauWKZKFos9MD5sZrZM4BlrbbbCoBoQw0/s1600/umb+rainb.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999;">“Teach me, O Lord, to glory in my cross. Teach me the value of my thorns. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999;">Show me how I have climbed to You through my path of pain. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999;">Show me that it is through my tears that I have seen rainbows.” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #999999;">- George Matteson</span></span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></em> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></em> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I've been staring at this picture for a long time now, not sure what I want to say about it. The thing is, I'm afraid I'm stuck in an arc of cliche. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Last night, in the middle of dinner, this beautiful rainbow appeared over our house. I nearly pushed my family out the door to go enjoy it, while dinner sat on the table getting cold. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em></em> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The picture is bursting with rainbows for me. My children playing in the rain, the home they stand in front of... my cup runneth over. My overwhelming gratitude for this life brings me back to where I've come from, what I've come through. And so, when I look at this, as much joy and beauty as it holds for me, I can't help but offer to anyone currently feeling like you are on a path of pain: may the hope of something beyond that help you through. Hang on for the rainbow. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And pain or no pain, it doesn't hurt to go play in the rain. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Sorry, I warned you it was going to be cliche.)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></em> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></em> </div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-85347652203892919302014-09-24T11:22:00.002-07:002014-09-24T11:28:50.212-07:00Liquid GoldIt's World (Breast) Milk Sharing Week again. In honor, I'm reposting <a href="http://lovelywithaside.blogspot.com/2013/09/breastmilk-sharing.html" target="_blank">my experience with milk sharing</a>, a post that was picked up by The World Milk Sharing Organization's ebook available at:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://worldmilksharing.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Liquid-Gold.pdf"><img alt="http://worldmilksharing.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Liquid-Gold.pdf" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgufK9GczjOO1Yr9pVAgI0pNrDnisgygllLF3sFfMY92zV3N9K3fMV_upm_4pQC3Ny5GIIY78VlCvnfw8dplP8vvEkIMRsPI-L8L1pVcqbrE9u-R95YH2bFjjBiy-bu_jkB4T5F0AVu1UZ-/s1600/10665736_716181295102870_6420301557971875085_n.jpg" height="400" width="245" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://worldmilksharing.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Liquid-Gold.pdf" target="_blank">worldmilksharing.net</a></div>
<br />
<br />
Like giving blood, sharing breast milk is a beautiful, communal practice - a coming together to give infants their best start. If you're interested in giving or obtaining shared milk, your local Eats on Feets Facebook page is a good resource.Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-62169854013825353532014-09-23T11:30:00.001-07:002014-09-23T11:30:57.257-07:00LovelyLife: Butter-no-fly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWOdPGvp6ropUtRmiKrwtJyCtVn_ImIl7Zo4P1QI3HCfz4dLLjckKYB8ikKbFzMfs6YTrM9n8pteuwgK5o3uYZOcCG3uv29aridUhItkNt83zjmTgNutKXOSluSNC1RSaf8FttqJxzcDt/s1600/butterfly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWOdPGvp6ropUtRmiKrwtJyCtVn_ImIl7Zo4P1QI3HCfz4dLLjckKYB8ikKbFzMfs6YTrM9n8pteuwgK5o3uYZOcCG3uv29aridUhItkNt83zjmTgNutKXOSluSNC1RSaf8FttqJxzcDt/s1600/butterfly.jpg" height="400" width="302" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Okay, I just kind of got lucky with this. I think it looks like an early 90's inspirational poster. I need a kitschy saying for the bottom to complete the look. Actually, I think the poor butterfly was sickly or really, really tired because I've never seen a butterfly stay put for as long as this one did. I had time to fish my scratched-up old camera out of my purse, turn it on, focus, and take a couple of pictures before it even flapped a wing. Hmm, maybe something like this:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26MyzNOgw4D4lgqu7jHWIMnwLDoPVIr4S1Gul965x5wAie760Lj1NmixJ-M3i3OPGYfYy1sQIpTdkwSEybFEUL2tLuUaVx9BU0lEKttdJGizpyAwbdv3ruCC1I03MM0NRAFi-vUca5beM/s1600/butterfly+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26MyzNOgw4D4lgqu7jHWIMnwLDoPVIr4S1Gul965x5wAie760Lj1NmixJ-M3i3OPGYfYy1sQIpTdkwSEybFEUL2tLuUaVx9BU0lEKttdJGizpyAwbdv3ruCC1I03MM0NRAFi-vUca5beM/s1600/butterfly+poster.jpg" height="640" width="444" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-10478100252607448862014-09-16T10:06:00.000-07:002014-09-19T10:24:07.082-07:00LovelyLife: Ballet Class<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiw5WAeuOPY57IHPckjt1ArFszM2n4D3cAdyjebPqRe_sIyP2xEJ9wnd4LQZcvbRqWx4aCp7-GAPk45FmZM24FLLYhJuqmiaP5w9rvX9gEfBJ1fHfL1Z4qejGBul2nrh8t_rtYJNEIpHwv/s1600/IMG_6732e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiw5WAeuOPY57IHPckjt1ArFszM2n4D3cAdyjebPqRe_sIyP2xEJ9wnd4LQZcvbRqWx4aCp7-GAPk45FmZM24FLLYhJuqmiaP5w9rvX9gEfBJ1fHfL1Z4qejGBul2nrh8t_rtYJNEIpHwv/s1600/IMG_6732e.jpg" height="640" width="481" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Cherish.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Cherish your gifts and take joy in them.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: inherit;">"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for." </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">-- Epicurus</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I spent years hoping and dreaming of a daughter. In my younger years <em>(sheesh, how old am I now if I start saying that?),</em> she was more of an expectation for the future. In my later/sicker years, she was a painful yearning that seemed unlikely. But God brought her to me. Today, I can look down at a circle of toddling, pink-tutu-ed beauties and be filled with gratitude that I am in that place, there with her, whom I cherish.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><em>(And later, at that terrible hour before dinner when everyone is tired and cranky, and my children seem to be incapable of refraining from bickering, I will remind myself to cherish.)</em></span></div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-54698840580163424042014-09-08T06:00:00.000-07:002014-09-09T08:22:47.509-07:00LovelyLife Photo Series #5: Welcoming Committee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgM3h-B0IUenW7C5OqhtV-GBXrj6rEkHZ-VqW-QRg4DT29obZYHyVZ-TfPkBNjjkoOOsUJmTMQ0vyM2FkP-JbnkMtxutHYtPgVgdiJZDvVp_p39Lj8L6UvxZpnrABHo5pEy_m71A3EqKp8/s1600/IMG_6677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgM3h-B0IUenW7C5OqhtV-GBXrj6rEkHZ-VqW-QRg4DT29obZYHyVZ-TfPkBNjjkoOOsUJmTMQ0vyM2FkP-JbnkMtxutHYtPgVgdiJZDvVp_p39Lj8L6UvxZpnrABHo5pEy_m71A3EqKp8/s1600/IMG_6677.JPG" height="518" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>“The soul is healed by being with children.”</strong>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>-- Fyodor Dostoyevsky</em></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I didn't have to search far in looking for the lovely this morning; this one comes to you from my front doorstep. My 6 year old son left Iron Man in the entry window. He's keeping an eye on things for us.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Happy September all. May you feel blessed by your safety today.</div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-86922224152479932262014-09-02T07:00:00.000-07:002014-09-04T10:05:00.024-07:00LovelyLife #4: Little Explorer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmKGBJlzu5jPADEVTfNCN2ALrd8ocPawbRKCsw5foWObs3Jp03pI30XT-RKs_U_XvZXBvceu6FvnBt9rYQUvWp6mgHXdwFlnCBVwNYcPO9julqZhEmuXfOSylbjD2sZKO6cuZ3kpgF0Mz/s1600/IMG_6607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmKGBJlzu5jPADEVTfNCN2ALrd8ocPawbRKCsw5foWObs3Jp03pI30XT-RKs_U_XvZXBvceu6FvnBt9rYQUvWp6mgHXdwFlnCBVwNYcPO9julqZhEmuXfOSylbjD2sZKO6cuZ3kpgF0Mz/s1600/IMG_6607.jpg" height="640" width="502" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Explore often. Only then you will know how small you are and how big the world is.”</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">- Pradeepa Pandiyan</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></em><br />
</div>
<a href="//www.pinterest.com/pin/create/button/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.flickr.com%2Fphotos%2Fkentbrew%2F6851755809%2F&media=http%3A%2F%2Ffarm8.staticflickr.com%2F7027%2F6851755809_df5b2051c9_z.jpg&description=Explore%20often.%20Only%20then%20you%20will%20know%20how%20small%20you%20are%20and%20how%20big%20the%20world%20is." data-pin-do="buttonPin" data-pin-config="above"><img src="//assets.pinterest.com/images/pidgets/pinit_fg_en_rect_gray_20.png" /></a>
<!-- Please call pinit.js only once per page -->
<script type="text/javascript" async src="//assets.pinterest.com/js/pinit.js"></script>Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-87812041534088372892014-08-30T15:22:00.000-07:002017-07-05T21:00:50.820-07:00LovelyLife #3: Tomatoes<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAJdZCoOZRIsNXWW7fnxFBlo8HHygOyeAFG_8rdvwLp504estGiqDZzqTxhhgCADVbsdX3en12MuMZlhUdOeXMhaQtOTL1IlNDzool7nkx8WtCGGPeRYxivDHAAjTwosd0tFcD3rxLZ5o/s1600/lovely+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAJdZCoOZRIsNXWW7fnxFBlo8HHygOyeAFG_8rdvwLp504estGiqDZzqTxhhgCADVbsdX3en12MuMZlhUdOeXMhaQtOTL1IlNDzool7nkx8WtCGGPeRYxivDHAAjTwosd0tFcD3rxLZ5o/s1600/lovely+4.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Growing Tomatoes<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Don't you just love the smell of tomato plants in the summer time? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">“The single greatest lesson the garden teaches is that our relationship to the planet need not be zero-sum, and that as long as the sun still shines and people still can plan and plant, think and do, we can, if we bother to try, find ways to provide for ourselves without diminishing the world. ”</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">― Michael Pollan, <i>The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals</i></span></div>
Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4078708033125104894.post-30019199510281060212014-08-26T09:28:00.001-07:002014-08-30T15:23:22.625-07:00LovelyLife #2: Farmer's Market<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVdtfgWZLcC_jqvQNwTmzpn-uRDz7989QveEZeAIvNSMz_5eZIuaZzbwy5pcMR57ipaIw91BmqZm9Zwukq6oqXPUCe50IJeZGF9XmkLKHX3HS1lx9_puU89G8QdSuPYE-m7_V40TyRcuu/s1600/lovely+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVdtfgWZLcC_jqvQNwTmzpn-uRDz7989QveEZeAIvNSMz_5eZIuaZzbwy5pcMR57ipaIw91BmqZm9Zwukq6oqXPUCe50IJeZGF9XmkLKHX3HS1lx9_puU89G8QdSuPYE-m7_V40TyRcuu/s1600/lovely+6.jpg" height="420" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farmers Market</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Jennifer Acee http://www.blogger.com/profile/07547005417981343893noreply@blogger.com0