tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625086146924491332024-03-13T16:52:49.645-05:00A Day In the Life of a FregThis blog chronicles my life, my hobbies, and my obsessions.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-87995330170201296462012-12-18T22:24:00.000-06:002012-12-18T22:24:56.976-06:00...and then you grow upI have a very blended family. My Mom had me and my oldest sister Tanya from her first marriage, the man I have called Dad all my life (but was biologically speaking - not related to me) had two children from his first marriage. I have always called Georgie and Jenny my brother and sister regardless of how many genes we share. My Mom and Dad then had two additional children in their marriage - Jackie and Deanna. So there are six of us, divided up into three biological sets, but we are all siblings regardless.<br />
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All siblings squabble from time to time. Some more than others, and some a bit less than others. Compared to my own childhood, my children hardly ever have issues with each other except Charlie and David. They are too rough and too close in age and this causes conflict, but I still have hope they'll become friends as they age.<br />
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Growing up I was quite close to my sister Tanya, and my baby sister Deanna. Due to distance I wasn't as close to Georgie or Jenny, but both are people I consider to be on good terms with. There was really only one sibling that I squabbled over and over with. We just didn't get along. We had our standard sibling squabble, but it went far past just your standard squabbling. We genuinely did not like one another. I felt slighted when it came to punishments, parental attention, ect. Quite frequently, as I've heard from my other siblings as well, whenever a fight occurred with Jackie we knew that we would be the one punished. This created feelings of jealousy in me, and in return my attitude towards her grew quite soured.<br />
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As we aged we did not, as our parents had hoped, become friends. Certain things occurred in my early adult life that intensified my feelings of dislike as well as my perception that our she was favored over myself and my other siblings. Over the next half decade we hardly spoke online, never on the phone, and got into fights quite a bit with each other. At one time she deleted AND blocked me on facebook for nearly my entire pregnancy with my youngest.<br />
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We simply didn't know how to communicate with each other, and due to our past histories of hurting one another, we perceived any and all comments as an insult - even when there was no intention of this. Unfortunately, this also extended into our new families as her husband would come to her defense at times with some, erm, colorful language at times. As I had not ever really gotten to know him in real life this colored my perception of him. It was this never ending cycle. Someone would feel hurt and in turn would hurt back and meanwhile our dislike for one another was growing at an alarming rate.<br />
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Since we were both adults at this point we were not forced into each others company, and this meant that either one of us could cut off communication - permanently - if need be. Jackie did do this once or twice, but eventually would return to communication with me. I have a really hard time cutting people out of my life. I have always been the one who will constantly give people chance after chance even when others were telling me over and over again that they didn't deserve it. I was always OPEN for communication but I wasn't changing HOW I communicated. I wanted HER to change while I kept as I was. Obviously, that wasn't going to work, but I was stubborn and I felt that I was in the right while she was in the wrong.<br />
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This wasn't the first major family member I had needed to repair ties with. After 5 years of not speaking to Chris's mom we both grew up enough to apologize to each other, and to forge a relationship that at this point in time is pretty great. I just can't cut people out permanently.<br />
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Everything changed when Jackie's husband, my brother in law, Danny received orders to PCS (permanent change of station - basically he was ordered by the military to move) from the East coast to the West coast.<br />
Knowing they would have to pass through close to my neck of the woods I messaged Jackie and extended an invite. Chris was bewildered. He knew about our rocky relationship and he did not want to deal with my anxiety leading up to the visit, or any fights that erupted during the visit. I told him that family was family and we were going to try.<br />
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The weeks leading up to the visit were filled with speculation: Will we fight? Am I going to be able to control my anxiety and panic attacks during the visit? Will it end up with constant verbal sparring? This was the first time I was going to see her since she became a mother, how was I going to react to that?<br />
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Chris was on TDY and wasn't set to return from it until they had already arrived and I was extremely nervous to not have him here. As luck, or unluck, would have it, I fell a few days before they arrived and sprained every joint and muscle in my left leg leaving me unable to walk or move much at all. Chris was sent home the very next night after my fall to take care of me. <br />
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After they arrived and I carried my very adorable niece through the house on a tour there were a few awkward moments. I had no idea if the animosity that I so often encountered with Danny would continue in person - even though my baby sister and my mom assured me he was a very nice guy. I had no idea if I would be able to communicate with Jackie with being offended or offending her. We sat on the couch for about 10 minutes in complete silence until my brain told me to stop acting like a damn child and just TALK, something that anyone who knows me knows I have no problem doing. Once I began talking, asking questions, I realized I really didn't know Jackie or Danny at all. I'm sure at times they felt as if I were interviewing them, lol.<br />
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I won't say the visit went perfectly. We had a few hiccups, but I always quick to apologize if I felt anything I said could be misconstrued as rude or mean. Only one time did I need to leave the room to deal with a panic attack and had a good cry over feeling as if I had been attacked or insulted. One time for a 3+ day visit is pretty damn good, I'd say. As far as I know she didn't feel attacked, or if she did she hid it well.<br />
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It took me 27 years to figure out, AND listen to the old saying, "Do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy?" I wanted this visit to be a happy one. One that was on the path to repairing a relationship that was 23 years in the making. I realized that my "new" brother in law - who will be known from this moment on as just my brother (as I've done with all my non biological that I love as if they were my biological family) is a pretty cool guy. We got along pretty well, and I look forward to getting to know him better. I also, finally, began to learn my sisters language. I don't think you could find two siblings more different than us, but we are starting to learn how to talk to one another. <br />
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Will Jackie and I become best friends? Who knows. We are both young, and I think as long as we continue to put aside our past and learn how to speak to each other NOW we stand to have, at the very least, a decent relationship. Perhaps by the time we get to visit with each other again we'll be on much better terms and there won't be as much tension leading up to the visit.<br />
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I have no idea where her head was prior to the visit, or where it is now after the visit, but I know that *I* finally grew up and decided to allow the past remain in the past. I finally did what my parents always hoped I could - I spent 5 days in the company of my sister and we parted on good terms. I'm looking forward to seeing how this relationship grows.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-46192335330364541882012-10-15T22:45:00.001-05:002012-10-15T22:45:52.399-05:00I'm coming backI know I promise my return quite frequently, but I REALLY a going to be posting more. I've noticed my tutorials get more hits so I will be concentrating on that. So look for more cooking posts and some crafty ones too!<br /><br /><br />-Posted from my Amazing Neon Green iPad<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-80008008522755943872012-07-21T13:15:00.000-05:002012-07-21T13:15:17.407-05:00Staying busy!For a long time now I've had dreams of starting my own cloth pad store, but I had no desire to do so by myself. I've learned that I am someone who does not like to be alone or do things alone. I have never really had the desire to eat or go to the movies by myself. I relax and enjoy myself more in the company of others. So I've been holding off on the store as I figured out how to do it without feeling the overwhelming stress I feel when I am by myself. After thinking on it for a while I contacted two friends of mine who are crafty and asked if they wanted to go into creating a store with me. Except, I didn't want to create a store, I wanted to create a community. I have always loved the small town feel, where everyone knows everyone, you know your customers, people help other people out, and things are hand made. Even though we are based online I wanted to create that feeling. And so we started Crunchy Cloth Creations. I discovered I have a love of creating toys, and kids products in addition to cloth pads, and that I am not that fond of making clothes. Which worked out perfectly as one of my partners loved making clothes, and the other loves making accessories, so we all meshed well together. Unfortunately, one of the partners decided that a store just wasn't right for her and her family and stepped down. There are no hard feelings there, everyone needs to put themselves and their families first.<br />
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It will be a while, now, before I can get the pads made up to sell, but it is coming! Meanwhile, I have a lot of plans in mind for the store. We are trying to give back as much as possible as we go along, and have already donated a few Hooty's to kids in need. As I continue to create for CCC, I'll be updating this blog as well with the inner workings and maybe some tutorials for the items we are creating. As well as all the other crazy things I end up posting in here!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-7026917575335512832012-06-14T20:11:00.002-05:002012-06-14T20:16:00.154-05:00The life of a military childI grew up as a military brat. My dad was in the Air Force, and during Desert Storm was gone quite a bit. After that he frequently TDY'd for long periods of time. He was in the EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal), you know - the guys who get rid of bombs. I was used to him being in and out of our house, and knowing there were twos type of normal - One when my dad was home, and one when he was gone. <br />
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When my husband enlisted I was originally opposed to it. I didn't want to have to kiss him goodbye and I didn't want my kids to grow up while he came in and out of our lives. We both knew this was the best road for our family, though. We wanted a large family, we were young, we were already pregnant with Anthony, and we needed stability. The military doesn't provide home stability, but it does provide job security, a community, and benefits that make it easier to breathe at times. So he enlisted. He left when Anthony was 3 months, and we reunited when Anthony was 8 months old. He deployed off and on, or TDY'd off and on for the next year or so, but it was okay. I had one child, I had a great group of friends, I was young, in shape, and I was determined to be a strong military wife. After our daughter was born he left for 6 out of her first 8 months. I had severe PPD, I had a falling out with a friend, and my daughter was very high needs. Still, I conquered those deployments, and when my husband came home he transferred to the school house so he could further his career and stay home with us. It was supposed to be a 2 year assignment, but it turned into 4 years.<br />
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During that time we had 3 more kids, my health began to fade as my EDS became more painful and apparent, and my friends PCSed or separated from the military. I was no longer a young, nor new military spouse and I found it harder to find people who were in the same stage of life as I was.<br />
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Now Chris is deployed again. The longest deployment we've had yet - 6 months. This isn't like the other deployments, for me or my kids. My kids were young last time and didn't really understand that daddy was gone. I now have 5 kids to care for, and two of them are school age which requires a lot more "get out of the house" time. There is no more napping for me, or sleeping in. I can't just leave the house at a moments notice, and most of my friends now have careers which means little time to hang out.<br />
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My kids are now aware that daddy is gone, and are dealing with it in their own ways. Anthony has a very hard time even talking to Chris on skype. His room is littered with pieces of paper with pictures he drew of daddy and "WANTED - My daddy to come back home. We need him", and "Daddy, no one is as missed as you are, come home please". It breaks my heart, but he won't talk about it much.<br />
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Anastasia has gone from my happy go lucky child to being melancholy, and withdrawn. She doesn't want to play anymore, she has reverted back to being very clingy, even to the point of not wanting to leave me to go to school. She'd rather run errands with me than spend time playing with other kids.<br />
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David is angry. He says things like, "I'm not going to behave until Daddy comes home!" or "I hope Daddy never comes home because I'm mad at him", and "Did Daddy leave because he doesn't like me anymore?". When I try to talk to him about Chris his chin begins to wobble and he refuses to speak. I tell him that daddy didn't want to go, that he had to, and that he loves him and can't wait to come home. I think there may be a long adjustment period on Davids part when Chris returns.<br />
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Charlie goes from anger to sadness. He was the closest to Chris out of all the kids. He was Chris's little shadow, spending every second that Chris was home attached to him, and sleeping curled up on him at night. Some nights he dances when he hears the skype music, other nights he gets grumpy and hides behind me refusing to talk to Chris. Still 2-3 times a week he wakes up in the middle of the night sobbing for him. He is too young to understand why Chris left, and it's quite clear he feels abandoned. I've had to be very sensitive about even putting a shut door between Charlie and me because it can send him into a fit.<br />
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Alan doesn't even know. I think thats the saddest of it all. In Alans world he only has one parent. He doesn't know about Daddy and how awesome he is. He doesn't know the way he smells, or the joy of being tossed in the air by him. I try to let the two play when Chris Skypes but Alan is still too young to even do that much. He's very attached to me, and lights up when he sees me. Out of all 5 kids he is the most joyful, and playful, and it breaks my heart that Chris is missing this. <br />
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Being a military SPOUSE is much different than being a military BRAT. I thought I understood what deployments were like having dealt with them as a child, but I had no idea what it's like to be separated from your companion, your best friend, and having to live life like a single parent but not being a single parent. <br />
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I used to face deployments as, "I have to be this super strong, can't show I'm upset because I'm a military wife and we don't do that!" and I was dumb. It's normal to be upset, and to have bad days. I'm still "handling" this deployment. I'm still getting up every day and doing what I have to do, and what Chris used to do. I'm dealing with my kids emotional needs as THEY'RE dealing with the deployment. I'm just not doing it and pretending that I'm okay all the time. Especially to my kids. I WANT them to see that I miss their father, that his absence may be necessary but it's not wanted, but that as a family we get through it. <br />
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There is a very real possibility that at least some of my children will go from military brat to military spouse or service member. While these deployments are hard for them on so many levels, when they become adults they'll be difficult in other ways. Every deployment is different because life is never quite the same for each deployment. Perhaps our next deployment will be easier than this one has been. We'll be more seasoned, it will most likely be a lot shorter, and my kids will understand a little better. <br />
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I've said it, and I've heard it often, not every spouse is cut out for this lifestyle. It's why we see so many military marriages end in divorce. I think we forget that not every child is cut out for this lifestyle as well, except they don't have a choice to end it. All we can do it try our hardest to be as emotionally supportive of our kids as possible. We can't make it easy for them, there is nothing easy about being separated from your only father or mother, but we can help them deal with it and understand that it's OKAY to be upset about it. It's expected, and it's healthy. <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-74254816990501134502012-06-07T20:59:00.002-05:002012-06-07T21:01:00.205-05:00"Oh, let me tell you about YOUR disability..."Its been a while since I've blogged, but it's something I'm desperate to get back to. This post has been a while in the making.<br />
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I had to bite the bullet a few months ago and my husband and I had myself declared "handicapped - permanently" through the state so I could receive a placard for the car while he was deployed. It was a very sad day for me. It's a struggle, constantly, between letting people know about Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and how it affects me - and not letting it rule or ruin my life.<br />
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May was EDS awareness month. I find this to be especially important as I would not have been diagnosed if it wasn't for a passing conversation with a complete stranger. It's so important to me that more people learn about EDS. With this comes...more opinions, though, on how *I* should be living *my* life with this syndrome. <br />
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Whenever you are disabled, no matter the cause or severity, everyone seems to have an opinion on it. "Oh, you're TOO disabled to be doing that!", "You don't LOOK disabled", "IF you were disabled you surely couldn't do THAT!", "Are you sure you are disabled?", "Are you sure you should be doing that?", "I think you are faking", "You don't need to be taking THOSE medications", "You can't be in that much pain, surely, and still be moving!", "I think you are a drug seeker", "*I* would never take those meds, even if I was in pain", ect ect ect. <br />
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Everything I do is now questioned, scrutinized, judged, and ridiculed. I've dealt with it from people who don't know me well, Chris's squadron mates, and most recently people I confided in and considered good friends of mine. It's tough, but it shows me who I can count on to be there for me and who I can't. It also shows me how much further we have to go in educating the general public on Chronic Pain conditions and EDS. <br />
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Yes, my joints dislocate, my tendons and my ligaments tear, my muscles shred, and when the damage is severe enough my bones begin to degrade. Yes, I get up every day and do what any hard working mom of 5 would do. Would it be easier to lay in bed and cry? Of course, and there are days where mentally I AM still in bed, curled in a ball, and crying my heart out. Crying because of the pain, and crying because it's just not fair that I have this. But physically, I get up and take care of business. When it becomes more tough to push past the pain I meet with doctors and have procedures done to help. Thats why I had my wrists fused. I couldn't push past the pain any longer, and by that time my wrists were permanently dislocated, shredded, and separating from my arm. I think I did a damn good job still parenting with broken wrists.<br />
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I feel that disabled people have to go ABOVE and BEYOND what any able bodied person does, and still we aren't good enough. In my case, it's with my parenting and my ability to care for my family.<br />
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If I was an able bodied mom of 5, whose husband is deployed, I could make a frozen pizza for dinner, take a nap in the middle of the afternoon, or feel so tired by the end of the day that bed time comes early and everyone would completely understand.<br />
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When you are a disabled mom you must ALWAYS cook meals from scratch, maintain a meticulous house, play non stop with your children, have endless amounts of patience, and never ever be tired or complain. If you fail, or have a bad day, you will be accused of being too disabled to physically care for your children.<br />
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If you decide to have a large family when you have a disability, well you are just in for it! Even if you parent in such a style that you are constantly attached to, engaged with, or responding to one of your kids. You mine as well be lumped in with abusers and neglectful parents!<br />
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I REFUSE to let EDS take away my dreams. I was born with it. A lot of people are born with it. Experts believe about 1 in 800 people have some form and 95% of people will never be accurately diagnosed. To me it's like yelling at a woman with RA for having kids, RA can be passed down too. No family is perfectly healthy. Of course I hope my kids don't have EDS, but given the alternative (them not being born) I don't think they'd rather that have happened. Plus, having a parent who is AWARE sets them up for such a much better future dealing with it than I had.<br />
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Even my medication and how I handle my disability is scrutinized, judged, debated....<br />
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My journey into pain medication began almost 4 years ago when the pain became unbearable. After the birth of David within 6 weeks I went from okay with minor aches and pains here and there, to unable to walk or use my arms from severe pain. My elbow began dislocating, and eventually after a few weeks of dislocating over 100 times per day I could no longer pop it back into place. It's still dislocated 4 years later. The geneticist said it's one of the worst hes seen. There is no option for it but a replacement which I can't get until i'm 35. My legs stopped working and after PT and OT 3 times a week for 8 months I regained them but popped my achilles tendon in the process. My wrists were severely damaged from dislocations, and required the fusions to fix. During this process I was prescribed percocet, but no one was managing my pain meds. I began taking more and more just to get the same pain relief. Once I was taking 25mg at one time I knew something had to change. My doctor suggested a pain clinic and I've been there ever since. I've only raised my pain meds twice in the past 3 years which is pretty rare and slow going. I'm very careful to not take too many because of tolerance issues.<br />
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I'm currently on dilaudid and morphine. This has caused quite the stir. Quite the opinions. Until someone can experience the pain I'm in they can't say what they really would or would not do. Compared to a lot of EDSers I'm on NOTHING. One lady is 3 years older than me and having a pain pump surgically placed inside of her. Others are on fentanyl pops, morphine patches, oxy, and dilaudid at the same time. I would never judge any of those people. Pain is so mentally and physically exhausting. We do what we have to do to function. I refuse some of the harsher pain managments, like methadone, because of nursing and wanting more kids. I'm very carefully monitored by a huge team of doctors. <br />
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At the end of the day, it's MY life, MY choice, MY disability. I don't mind sharing about it, but keep your opinions on how I should be living or managing it to yourself.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-38656564809568965462012-02-28T20:05:00.002-06:002012-02-28T20:53:49.574-06:00Alan Christopher Mizzell<span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">So much has happened since I last posted. We bought a home! Our moms came out to visit (at the same time, and they finally met for the first time!), and we had our 5th child - Alan Christopher Mizzell. This is his birth story.</span></span><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Alan was supposed to come on February 8th. Even though I wasn't due until March 4th, my doctor wanted to induce me early because of the complications that can come with delivery and having Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. He was leaving town on vacation on the 9th, and wouldn't be back until the 22nd. All of my kids, except Anastasia, were born prior to 38 weeks and he wasn't sure I'd make it until the 22nd since I'd be 38 weeks 3 days. However, to induce in Nebraska prior to 39 weeks you have to have an amnio that confirms lung maturity. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">To prepare for the delivery we had our moms come out and visit. They had never met each other before and we thought this would be a great time to finally meet! The plan was for Chris's mom to care for Anthony and David during delivery (we'd take Charlie and Anastasia with us), and for my mom to be in the delivery room since she's never seen me give birth before. I began having a lot of bloody show around the 5th of February and my husband and mom were both convinced I wasn't even going to make it to my induction. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">On the 8th we all went to my MFM doctor for my amnio. Oh my goodness that was painful! My MFM rocked it out and it went very quickly, but as soon as the needle was inserted in my uterus I slightly shifted and ended up contracting around the needle. It burned after that. Afterwards they have to monitor you for an hour to make sure you aren't going into labor and that the baby isn't in distress. Alan was not happy. His heartrate was in the 200's and stayed there for about half an hour before it finally came down and stayed down. The results came back that his lungs were not mature. We found out at my OB appt that afternoon that his numbers were only 19, and they need 40's to 50's to be considered mature. He was REALLY not ready. I was upset, but I didn't want him to come if he wasn't ready.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I felt really bad for Chris's mom. She had wanted to come out at the end of February but I convinced her to come out earlier so she could meet my mom. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">My doctor told me we should try another amnio on the 21st with an induction on the 22nd. I told him I didn't think I'd make it and I really didn't want another amnio. He told me I might make it, and that I could think on it and make the decision at my next appt on Monday. Since he was out of town I was to have my appt with the PA.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">That week I talked to Chris a lot about it. I was having spells of contractions every 5-7 minutes, but they weren't intense, and after a few hours they'd peter out. I never had this happen with any other pregnancy, and it was really wearing me down. Chris had the car packed and ready for the hospital, and he drilled the kids with what they needed to do if we had to jump into the car in the middle of the night. My EDS was getting really bad, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to walk. By my appt I had made my decision. If he didn't come on his own before then, we'd induce on the 22nd. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">The PA seemed surprised by my decision. She said there wasn't any instructions in my file about the induction, but she'd call my doctor on vacation and confirm. I felt bad that his vacation was getting disrupted, but they assured me that he was okay with it. I had contracted all night prior to my appt, and my cervix was now 2 cm and 60%. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">On the 21st he still hadn't come, so off to the MFM we went. The second amnio was just as painful, and this time it was performed low down so my waistband and my seatbelt kept irritating the site. Alan reacted a lot better this time, and his heartrate never became elevated. The whole office was giving me good luck charms, and doing good luck rituals to try to encourage my results to come back as mature. They worked! His lungs were mature! We got the results after only 30 minutes - probably because the kids were behaving so awfully.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">That night, again, I began having contractions. I joked that Alan was going to make me go through the horrible amnio and then come on his own anyway. He didn't. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Originally I was supposed to arrive at the hospital at 7 am, but my doctor had to perform surgery at another hospital at that time, and he was afraid I'd deliver before he got back. So instead he wanted us to show up at 9:30 and they'd start pitocin at 11. This worked better for us, because we have to get the kids to school around 7:30. My friend Debra was kind enough to agree to pick the kids up from school that afternoon, as I wasn't sure how long I'd be in labor.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">After we took the kids to school we went to grab breakfast. I wanted iHop but there wasn't time, so we went to the donut place instead. I hate donuts, but it was quick and easy. I made the biggest mistake and had orange juice which made me have the most horrendous acid reflux.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">We got to the hospital shortly after 9 so we could register, and then we were escorted to labor and delivery. I got my IV in and answered all the nurses questions. She didn't seem to believe that I had as short of labors as I claimed, and was surprised that we were supposed to start the epidural prior the pitocin. On the monitor I was contracting pretty regularly, and she asked if I could feel them. I told I could but they weren't bad, and it had been happening off and on for the past week. At 11 she started the pitocin even though I hadn't gotten my epidural yet. I told her that I wasn't sure I wanted to do that, and she assured me I'd have the epidural prior to the pitocin kicking in. Almost immediately my contractions became more uncomfortable, but 15 minutes later the </span>anesthesiologist<span style="font-size: 100%;"> arrived. He came accompanied by the nurse </span>anesthetist<span style="font-size: 100%;">, who was still learning to administer epidurals. I HATE being someones guinea pig, but I didn't argue. She pushed the tube to the left about 5 times before she finally got it where it needed to be. I knew my epidural was going to be a lot more stronger on that side, and it was. </span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">My left leg was dead to the world, my right leg was a little numb, but I wasn't in pain. I didn't realize how much pain I was in until I had my epidural. It was like heaven. I think every EDS patient should get an epidural occasionally just for the mental relief! At 11:30 and then again at 12 she turned my pitocin up. At 1 my OB showed up and checked me. I was dilated to a 3 and about 80% effaced. I told him I was surprised it was taking so long, and he informed me that was because I wasn't in labor yet. He broke my water, and told me he'd suit up and stay nearby. At 2:30 my nurse came in and checked me, I was 4 cm, and 80%. She told me I was officially in labor. Around 3 I began feeling pain around my amnio site every time I had a contraction. It hurt pretty badly and the nurse gave me a push button for my epidural. She didn't check me, I don't think she really believed how fast my labors were. She told me she'd check me at 3:30. About 15 minutes later my contractions became unbearable in that spot. The monitor suddenly shot up and said my contractions were registering at a 150+ and staying there. Chris decided now was the time to change Charlie's diaper and strap him on his back (yes, we had Charlie and David with us!) and put cartoons on for David. </span></span></div><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span >I wasn't crying, but I was moaning and tears were s+treaming down my face. I rolled onto my side to try to alleviate the pain some, and in doing so the monitor slipped off Alans heartrate and lost him. The nurse came back in and I told her I was in a lot of pain and that the push button wasn't working. She checked me and looked startled and told me she was getting the doctor. The next thing I know the doctor and a bunch of nurses are running into the room and prepping me for delivery. Alan was already crowning! Chris managed to get Charlie strapped on and raced over to the bed. Doctor Schropp was already prepped, like he said he would be, and told me to push once. I pushed and Alan was born at 3:33 pm, weighing 6 lbs 10.5 oz and was 20 inches. I couldn't believe how much he weighed! He is our biggest baby yet! I think he would have been born on his own if they hadn't come in to the room. The pain was most likely caused by the amnio the day before.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >I had a pretty bad episiotomy, like normal, and it's been a bit of a painful recovery. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Alan is 5 days old and doing well. He's nursing like a champ, he's already peed on me three times, and all the kids adore him. Charlie isn't fond of sharing his nursies, but he's getting better. I'll have to do another post later with pictures, my little Alansaurus is calling :)</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-40155786096449455772011-12-31T22:23:00.002-06:002011-12-31T22:36:35.318-06:00My Nana's fudgeGrowing up my nana used to send us massive care packages full of the most delicious treats - cookies, fudge, candied walnuts. I looked forward to these packages every year, and now as a parent to my own brood I've been wanting more and more to pass on recipes to MY kids. This year has really made me realize that I am going to really be the Matriarch of my family. I'm not close to my sisters, except one. I haven't talked to or seen my brother in years, unfortunately. We can't afford to see our family in California, or our parents very often and they can't afford to come visit us. This was one of my main reasons for wanting a large family. I knew that my kids were only, really, going to have each other when they grew up. They aren't going to be close to their cousins (except perhaps Deanna's kids), if they know their cousins at all, and I really want them to have a strong sense of family. So for the past few months I've really concentrated on establishing traditions to pass down to them, that they can pass down to their own kids. My Nana's recipes were some of the things I wanted to pass down to them.<div><br /></div><div>My dads ex wife has been so kind to send me some of her recipes and I've been trying them out over the past few weeks. The sugar cookies turned out okay, but the pregnancy does not let me enjoy them because they use a lot of lard and this baby does not like the taste or smell of it. I haven't tried the candied walnuts yet but I will attempt them in the next few days! Today I tried my hand at fudge.</div><div><br /></div><div>My Nana's fudge is not the ooey gooey kind people think when they think fudge. It's not marshmellowy or any of that nonsense. Thats not "real" fudge in my opinion, thats a new type of fudge that is more like a gooey brownie than a candy. My Nana's fudge is old fashioned, sugary, crumbly, and absolutely heavenly. I should admit that my Nana got her recipe from the old Hershey can, so technically it's Hersheys fudge, but it will always be my Nana's fudge to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I attempted making this about 10 years ago with my sister Jenny (and I think my brother was present too). It turned out awful. Of course we didn't follow directions very well, or use a candy thermometer, but it made me absolutely terrified to attempt to make it. I don't take failure well, especially in the kitchen.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not an expert cook or baker, but I do like to think I know a little about both. Baking and bread making are definitely a passion of mine, and I've been wanting to try my hand at candy making but I've been too afraid. I think I have found some confidence in it! I expect I'll be making a few tutorials about different candy goodies!</div><div><br /></div><div>So now on to what you really care about - the tutorial.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ingredients:</div><div><br /></div><div><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="ingredient" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span ><span class="amount" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span class="value" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">3 </span><span class="type" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">cups sugar</span></span><span class="name" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "></span></span></span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="ingredient" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span ><span class="amount" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span class="value" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">2/3</span> <span class="type" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">cup</span></span> <span class="name" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">cocoa</span></span></span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="ingredient" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span class="amount" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span ><span class="value" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">1/8</span> <span class="type" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">teaspoon salt</span></span></span></span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="ingredient" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span class="amount" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span ><span class="value" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">1 1/2</span> <span class="type" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">cups milk</span></span></span></span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="ingredient" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span class="amount" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span ><span class="value" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">1/4</span> <span class="type" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">cup butter</span></span></span></span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="ingredient" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span class="amount" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span ><span class="value" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">1 </span><span class="type" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">teaspoon vanilla extract</span></span></span></span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="ingredient" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span class="amount" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span ><span class="type" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><br /></span></span></span></span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="ingredient" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span class="amount" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span ><span class="type" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; ">You'll want to line an 8 or 9 inch pan with foil, and then rub it down with softened butter. This helps to set your fudge, and to keep it from sticking.</span></span></span></span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="ingredient" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span class="amount" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><span ><span class="type" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "><br /></span></span></span></span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Mix the first three ingredients in a LARGE sauce pan. Trust me, you want it large, it expands a lot when it starts to boil. Attach your candy thermometer to the side of the pot, make sure the bulb isn't touching the bottom.</span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fUXB4VGHOjI/Tv_f88T36TI/AAAAAAAAABw/HFhp6Bvs6fs/s1600/fudge.jpg" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fUXB4VGHOjI/Tv_f88T36TI/AAAAAAAAABw/HFhp6Bvs6fs/s400/fudge.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692514692094224690" style="cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px; " /></a> </li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Once it is all mixed up well, add the milk and turn the heat on to medium. Stir constantly with a WOODEN spoon. You do NOT want to use a wisk or anything metal. The metal, for some reason, reacts to the fudge and it won't turn out well. Also, stir very gently, it will take a while to mix up but as it heats up it will help. Continuing stirring until it comes to a ROLLING boil.</span></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SRKBwN2dZsA/Tv_f8wOKOoI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ynkahWP5dhw/s1600/fudge2.jpg" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; "><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SRKBwN2dZsA/Tv_f8wOKOoI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ynkahWP5dhw/s400/fudge2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692514688849033858" style="cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px; " /></a> </li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Now, STOP STIRRING. Let it continue to boil until the temperature reads 234 degrees. Your thermometer might also read "soft ball" at this temperature. This is because you can test your fudge by dropping a bit into VERY cold water. Feel it with your fingers, if it turns into a soft ball that flattens when you remove it from the water, your fudge is at the right temperature. Because this is a candy temperature is VERY important. It will take about 20 minutes to get to this temperature but I suggest not venturing far from your pot. I just cleaned the kitchen and checked on it like a mad woman, I was so afraid of failing!</li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Once it has reached the appropriate temperature take it off the heat and drop in the vanilla and butter but DO NOT STIR IT. I just chopped my butter into 4 pieces and poured the vanilla around the whole pot. This is vitally important, do NOT stir it in. </li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kibPj9COrnc/Tv_f9Nfc7jI/AAAAAAAAACI/i21jVW8_WAE/s1600/fudge3.jpg" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kibPj9COrnc/Tv_f9Nfc7jI/AAAAAAAAACI/i21jVW8_WAE/s400/fudge3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692514696706190898" style="cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px; " /></a> </li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Let the fudge cool until it reaches lukewarm temperature, which is 110 degrees. The original recipe said this would take 2-2.5 hours. Mine did not. It reached it in about 1 hour. So check your thermometer frequently and don't rely on set time that it will take to cool. Just like anything, the amount of time it will take depends on a number of factors. Also, the fudge will settle, so reposition your thermometer to make sure it is still IN the fudge. Thankfully my husband caught that!</li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Once it's reached 110 degrees take your wooden spoon and stir it. Stir, stir, stir. It will be TOUGH and similar in consistency to taffy, so if you have someone who can help you stir let them help! I couldn't stir much at all because of my arms, so Chris did the majority of the stirring for me. Continuing stirring until it loses it's sheen. This is where Chris and I made our mistake. The original recipe said to stir until it loses it's sheen, about 20 minutes. It started to lose it's sheen about 10 minutes in so Chris and I thought it was close, but continued to stir. We missed the mark by 30 seconds. The second it starts to lose it's sheen TRANSFER it to your foil. We waited 30 seconds too long and it set up right in the pan. Doesn't make it taste any different but we didn't end up with pretty cut squares.</li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">So as soon as it starts to lose its sheen, set it in the pan and let it cool. It won't be the most pretty fudge, it's not glossy at all, it's crumbly and delicious, and melts in your mouth.</li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W8TZHnTVsmk/Tv_f9RmVkGI/AAAAAAAAACU/dsoMGdLrsUM/s1600/fudge4.jpg" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W8TZHnTVsmk/Tv_f9RmVkGI/AAAAAAAAACU/dsoMGdLrsUM/s400/fudge4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692514697808810082" style="cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px; " /></a> </li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">See ours is all broken into strange looking pieces, but it tastes just like I remember!</li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></li><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-4412784225593950142011-10-25T20:52:00.006-05:002011-10-25T21:04:34.351-05:00Party Pizza<span><span>I've made this a few times now and all the kids love it, Chris and I enjoy it, and any meal that isn't met with even one child complaining is a major win in our house!<br /><br />You can use premade pizza dough if you want, I prefer to make my own. Makes me feel better about feeding my kids party pizza for dinner! Pizza dough is pretty simple to make. I've seen this recipe, or similar ones, all over the internet - this is my take.<br /><br /></span></span><br /><span><span>You'll need:<br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">1 1/2 c. warm (105-115 degrees) water<br />1 Tbsp. sugar<br />1 Tbsp. yeast<br />1/2 tsp. salt<br />3-4 1/2 c. flour<br /><br />Mix the first three ingredients together and let the yeast rise until bubbly, about 10 minutes.<br /></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g2phJBfN3Cc/TqdmooGYsBI/AAAAAAAAAYg/YgpnyUGLvCs/s1600/001.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g2phJBfN3Cc/TqdmooGYsBI/AAAAAAAAAYg/YgpnyUGLvCs/s320/001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667611504214061074" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Mix the salt in, and then start adding flour. Of course I make this in <a href="http://adayinthelifeofafreg.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-got-my-mixer.html">Betsy</a>.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6vRxuwOmo7w/Tqdmo7MGSPI/AAAAAAAAAYw/Kx4yU_jsUM4/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6vRxuwOmo7w/Tqdmo7MGSPI/AAAAAAAAAYw/Kx4yU_jsUM4/s320/002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667611509338294514" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Keep adding flour until the dough reaches the proper consistency. It will form a nice ball, and not be too sticky. It takes about 3-4 cups of flour.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j1IL5_-YeQY/Tqdmps6OsvI/AAAAAAAAAY4/ovYAFb_KdCQ/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j1IL5_-YeQY/Tqdmps6OsvI/AAAAAAAAAY4/ovYAFb_KdCQ/s320/003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667611522685121266" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Knead it or let your mixer knead it for a few moments.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y_5nh9icMtA/Tqdmpz3eW5I/AAAAAAAAAZE/19ZnY0h5Y3A/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y_5nh9icMtA/Tqdmpz3eW5I/AAAAAAAAAZE/19ZnY0h5Y3A/s320/004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667611524552612754" border="0" /></a><div><br /></div><div>Grease a bowl and turn dough in the bowl to coat with oil. Let it rise until doubled, about 45 minutes. This time of the year it's always a good idea to turn your oven on warm and place your bread on the stove. The heat will encourage it to rise.</div><div><br /></div><div>While this is rising prepare your ingredients. I've used pepperoni and I've used pineapple before. Next time I may try peppers and onions. Any pizza topping, or really any topping in general will work great. Chop it smaller though. Cube your cheese (we use mozzarella). </div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zmJkVmXDXPA/Tqdoqs_xjSI/AAAAAAAAAZc/aL2kuGLc1eo/s1600/006.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zmJkVmXDXPA/Tqdoqs_xjSI/AAAAAAAAAZc/aL2kuGLc1eo/s320/006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667613738911501602" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Once the dough is ready pinch off walnut sized pieces and flatten. Some people prefer to roll out their dough and cut with a pizza cutter into "x" amount of pieces. This seems like unnecessary work to me, but it's whatever you feel is easiest.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rvg-r0yfIBs/Tqdoq8F_sHI/AAAAAAAAAZo/m1yDyKgOG6k/s1600/011.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rvg-r0yfIBs/Tqdoq8F_sHI/AAAAAAAAAZo/m1yDyKgOG6k/s320/011.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667613742964125810" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Place your toppings on the top of your dough. Bring up the sides and pinched closed. Place in your greased pie/cake pan seam side down.</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JF2RjDAyVz4/TqdorR11uFI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/7cXrmb4Bsqs/s1600/012.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JF2RjDAyVz4/TqdorR11uFI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/7cXrmb4Bsqs/s320/012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667613748801943634" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rmdtWqFQTVQ/Tqdor64dVnI/AAAAAAAAAaA/veSywi1nW8w/s1600/015.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rmdtWqFQTVQ/Tqdor64dVnI/AAAAAAAAAaA/veSywi1nW8w/s320/015.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667613759818782322" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>If you have spare pans, or if you want to purchase throw away pie tins, these make great Make Ahead Meals. I have 4 pie tins, but I think I'll still purchase a few more. I'd like to have 6 or so of these in my freezer for easy meals. I only have 2.5 tins in there right now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Make your topping. I mix oil, Italian Seasoning, maybe some garlic powder. Whatever works best for you. I think the Italian Seasoning is a must though! Pour over the top and brush to evenly coat. Sprinkle with grated Parmesan or Italian cheese mix. I prefer the Italian Cheese mix, it has Parmesan in it plus a bunch of other yummy cheeses.</div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xw4RMHh0ARw/TqdosJwFS1I/AAAAAAAAAaM/n_6Cnf2u_Ik/s1600/016.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xw4RMHh0ARw/TqdosJwFS1I/AAAAAAAAAaM/n_6Cnf2u_Ik/s320/016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667613763810184018" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Bake at 400 for 10-20 minutes.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OxpYR_HFTDA/TqdpRjQp-EI/AAAAAAAAAaY/gLxhKO1kUjY/s1600/018.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OxpYR_HFTDA/TqdpRjQp-EI/AAAAAAAAAaY/gLxhKO1kUjY/s320/018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667614406312851522" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Serve with sauce on the side for dipping. This is oh so very yummy, and a great meal to make ahead for nights where you are busy and can't cook!</div><div><br /></div><div>My happy campers (Anthony wasn't there for dinner that night which is why there is no picture of him, but he loves it too!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Anastasia</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GcpaZPBCKww/TqdpR-DHa3I/AAAAAAAAAak/XbdNxot3bvQ/s1600/019.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GcpaZPBCKww/TqdpR-DHa3I/AAAAAAAAAak/XbdNxot3bvQ/s320/019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667614413503818610" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Charlie (what an odd expression)</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-olO7PxYBJk4/TqdpTI-WgoI/AAAAAAAAAa4/tr9HIJM0PVY/s1600/021.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-olO7PxYBJk4/TqdpTI-WgoI/AAAAAAAAAa4/tr9HIJM0PVY/s320/021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667614433616495234" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>David (as you can see these pictures are a few weeks old, but it's such a hit around here it will become a staple!)</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p_aE25Hmlmk/TqdpSrsI8QI/AAAAAAAAAaw/syvViouCX7g/s1600/020.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p_aE25Hmlmk/TqdpSrsI8QI/AAAAAAAAAaw/syvViouCX7g/s320/020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667614425755480322" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-80264319851563526352011-10-02T18:15:00.002-05:002011-10-02T19:05:41.746-05:00I haven't forgotten, just processingI haven't forgotten the challenge, in fact I have two more posts awaiting in the wings for when I get a free moment to write them up. I suppose this is a free moment, but I need to process my thoughts first.<div><br /></div><div>I was asked a few times if I'm disappointed that the baby is a boy. Of course I'm not! I don't understand going through the excitement of becoming pregnant, maintaining that excitement for nearly 20 weeks, only to become disappointed that the baby has the wrong anatomy between their legs. Yes, we wanted a girl because we already have three boys and wanted to give Anastasia a sister, but we aren't upset at all. On the contrary, we are quite happy and thrilled to be having another boy. When we first got together I thought I'd never have any boys. My family seems to only produce girls - so each boy is just an added blessing and surprise. </div><div><br /></div><div>The ONLY disappointment was the tough decision this created. We always wanted 6 kids and had agreed that if we got our second girl we'd cut it early. I had mixed emotions about this but agreed because Chris really feels finished (although he's said this after each child and then changed his mind and bugged me to get pregnant again). Once we discovered its another boy it became more difficult. I had started to come to terms that this may be the last baby, I was trying to mentally prepare myself for it, and I had hoped if it was a girl I wouldn't really have to make the hard decision, but I do.</div><div><br /></div><div>For the past few days I had been trying to rationalize stopping, because rationally speaking there are a lot of good reasons to say our family is complete.</div><div><br /></div><div>1. We have a large family</div><div><br /></div><div>2. 4 teenage boys is already daunting (food bill wise), what if the next is a boy and we have 5 teenage boys to feed?</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Pregnancy is HARD on my body and my EDS. I've become more high risk with each pregnancy, and it takes a while for me to recover afterwards.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Chris is ready to stop</div><div><br /></div><div>5. I have been pregnant, or breastfeeding, or both for the past 8 years with only a 12 month break total.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. We are held back by having a newborn or me being pregnant and can't do a lot of family activities because of it</div><div><br /></div><div>7. I'm tired.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. I tried to reason that, miscarriage included, I've been pregnant 6 times.</div><div><br /></div><div>BUT....</div><div><br /></div><div>In the back of my head was one very loud voice saying that I'd regret not having my original 6. That was a very loud annoying voice. And I kept trying to quiet it with all the logical reasons above but I couldn't. I kept telling Chris to give me a few days and I'd try to come to terms with it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then today Anastasia discovered the stash of Charlie's ultrasound pictures and looking at them had me overwhelmingly sad and upset at the prospect of not having one more baby after this. It's purely emotional but it's still a huge factor. My whole life I have wanted 6 kids. My whole adult life has been spent making that happen. I have put things on hold, changed my dreams and goals, and sacrificed a lot to achieve this. I feel as if we had 6 kids waiting in the wings and if we stop we've only opened our arms to 5 and told the 6th to take a hike. I know the child isn't physically made yet but I believe in fate and I believe that everything happens for a reason. I won't be able to shake not having that 6th baby. My husband is an Atheist and this isn't a reason he'll ever understand or accept but it is how I feel.</div><div><br /></div><div>As for the logic up above - </div><div><br /></div><div>1. <b>We have a large family </b>- Whats one more child to an already large family? Welcoming Charlie into our family didn't affect me at all, I suspect it will be the same with "Stormageddeon" (the baby's nickname). A 6th child will be just as loved as the first 5 and I have always felt a calling to welcome any person into my home. I am a caregiver by nature.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. <b>4 teenage boys is already daunting (food bill wise), what if the next is a boy and we have 5 teenage boys to feed? - </b>This is daunting, but we'll manage. We always do. I'll have a good paying job at that point, we should have been debt free for quite some time, and Chris will be higher ranking. I tend to cook for an army anyway as we have an open door policy on dinner at our home. Everyone is welcome.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. <b>Pregnancy is HARD on my body and my EDS. I've become more high risk with each pregnancy, and it takes a while for me to recover afterwards. </b>- This isn't one I take lightly. I will never take my health or my body lightly or for granted again. I AM looking forward to getting my body back permanently and trying to salvage as much as I can for the years to come. Having EDS is tough, every day is a challenge, but it's worth it. I fought so hard in physical therapy and occupational therapy FOR my family. My PT said she'd never seen anyone work so hard. I've had to cut a lot of dreams out of my life because of EDS, I've had to make a lot of sacrifices in my life because of EDS. There isn't a person on this earth who can fully relate to how hard I push myself daily, because they aren't me. I'm not going to just give up. There are days I want to, but I push through it because of my family. I'm not going to stop anytime soon.</div><div><br /></div><div>As for being high risk, I am high risk and that is something to think about. However, as long as I'm closely monitored my risks go way down. I'll never have the birth I've envisioned, but thats a sacrifice I'm okay with.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. <b>Chris is ready to stop -</b> This is the biggest deciding factor. I love my husband more than I've ever loved anyone (except my kids perhaps, but thats a different kind of love). He's my favorite person in the world, he's my best friend, and it's equally his decision to have more or not have more kids. If he doesn't change his mind all of this is a moot point. I can't, in good conscience, have another child if he doesn't want to. It takes TWO to have a kid, and only one to prevent it. I love him enough to put aside my feelings for his if thats how he really feels.</div><div><br /></div><div>5.<b> I have been pregnant, or breastfeeding, or both for the past 8 years with only a 12 month break total. </b>- I have done a number on my body over the past 8 years, but adding a few more years into that isn't a big deal. I mean, afterall, women did it for centuries and look at Michelle Duggar - she's still trucking! I love nursing, I love being pregnant, I will miss both when I'm done for good.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. <b>We are held back by having a newborn or me being pregnant and can't do a lot of family activities because of it</b> - Having a 6th would mean putting everything on hold for a few more years. I'd be pushing back going to school, getting a job, doing older kid activities.... But it would be worth it. And it's only 2 additional years. Our 6th would be born around December 2013/Janurary 2014.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>7. <b>I'm tired. </b>- What parent isn't tired? As long as it doesn't affect my ability to be a good parent this isn't really a big deal.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. <b>I tried to reason that, miscarriage included, I've been pregnant 6 times. -</b> I have been pregnant 6 times, like originally planned, but I don't want to include Baby C in my 6 kids. It sounds awful. Every year we honor the day we miscarried, October 12th, 2007, in some way. We haven't forgotten that baby at all, but I feel as if that babies time wasn't then. As if, spiritually, that baby is going to be born at some point, if he or she hasn't already, so he or she wasn't really lost. Again, not something Chris is going to understand or agree with. It's just always how I have felt.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So at the end of all of this I DO want another. I do want my 6th. I'm not sure if we will have a 6th, it all depends on if we can agree. I am NOT upset or disappointed that this baby is a boy, I just want to make that clear.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-2805715855651702742011-09-28T21:54:00.004-05:002011-09-28T22:04:09.713-05:00Broken Glass JelloI made <a href="http://foodlibrarian.blogspot.com/2009/03/broken-glass-jello.html">this</a> a few days ago and it's been a HUGE hit with the kids. The recipe is super simple, easy to make, cheap, and looks and tastes amazing.<div><br /></div><div>Ingredients:</div><div><br /></div><div>4 boxes of Jello (I used Raspberry, Lime, Orange, and Blue berry)</div><div>2 packets of unflavored gelatin (each box has 4 packets, I did NOT know this until after I bought the ingredients.)</div><div>1 can of Condensed sweetened milk (not the same as evaporated milk)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eOTGme7fcMk/ToPehKva4fI/AAAAAAAAAX0/1OFGYhASVEU/s1600/060.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eOTGme7fcMk/ToPehKva4fI/AAAAAAAAAX0/1OFGYhASVEU/s320/060.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657610218307772914" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Start by taking 4 square containers, I used tupperware, and dumping the different packets of Jello in them. Ooooh pretty!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cSL3nPt6BwM/ToPehba5NsI/AAAAAAAAAX8/KJQG-uURBro/s1600/061.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cSL3nPt6BwM/ToPehba5NsI/AAAAAAAAAX8/KJQG-uURBro/s320/061.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657610222785083074" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Prepare the Jello like normal, and place in fridge to cool. It's recommended you have a LOT of time for this to cool. I did not, and my jello didn't come out of the tupperwares as pretty as it could have.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hmlc0kA4t-I/ToPehj91sWI/AAAAAAAAAYE/cVGjDrChOxM/s1600/062.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hmlc0kA4t-I/ToPehj91sWI/AAAAAAAAAYE/cVGjDrChOxM/s320/062.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657610225079136610" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Once the jello is ready cut into square blocks and place in a large dish. Prepare the plain gelatin by adding 1/2 cup of cold water to it (in a separate dish) and waiting just a minute. Meanwhile boil 1.5 cups of water and pour on top, and dissolve the gelatin completely. Add the condensed milk, stir, and cool to room temperature (otherwise you'll melt your jello when you pour it on top).</div><div><br /></div><div>Once cooled pour over top of your jello cubes, and chill in the fridge for a few hours, preferably overnight. Cut and serve!!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pZdMEALgzAc/ToPeiJDdE2I/AAAAAAAAAYU/kAULOmPigcs/s1600/082.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pZdMEALgzAc/ToPeiJDdE2I/AAAAAAAAAYU/kAULOmPigcs/s320/082.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657610235034800994" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>You can see mine isn't as pretty because my jello didn't cube up as well, but the kids loved it and thats the important thing!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-78341871609187014412011-09-25T21:35:00.008-05:002011-09-26T07:14:34.795-05:00Pillow Soft Dinner Rolls/BreadI've made <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Pillow-Soft-Dinner-Rolls/Detail.aspx">this</a> recipe twice now, once a few weeks ago and again tonight. It is quickly becoming one of my favorite bread recipes.<div><br /></div><div><b>Ingredients:</b></div><div>4.5 teaspoons active dry yeast</div><div>2 cups warm milk (I heat this on the stove and warm until it's hot to the touch but not uncomfortably hot)</div><div>1/2 cup warm water (I use this from tap and just turn on my hottest setting. My water heater is set at 120 degrees. The first time I made this I used 3/4s cup of water. No difference in final product, it just increased the amount of flour used.)</div><div>6 tablespoons shortening (I don't measure this exact, just scoop and dump)</div><div>2 eggs</div><div>1/4 cup of sugar</div><div>1.5 teaspoons of salt</div><div>7 cups of all purpose flour (use good quality flour!)</div><div><br /></div><div>A few weeks ago I made tortillas and used cheap cheap store brand flour. They turned out terrible. They were hard and salty, and I quickly learned (and decided) to not use cheap flour ever again when making bread products. I prefer to use King Arthur, and haven't had any issues with it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I decided to make two batches, one for dinner rolls and one for two loaves of sandwich bread. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uiXvyIf1KHw/Tn_oFPUc8SI/AAAAAAAAAVc/0w633e6P4a4/s1600/053.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uiXvyIf1KHw/Tn_oFPUc8SI/AAAAAAAAAVc/0w633e6P4a4/s320/053.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656494833709936930" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The first thing I do is to proof my yeast by dissolving it in my warm water. I turn the mixer on slightly and just stir it to make sure it's completely dissolve. It will puff up a bit and thats perfectly fine! It's supposed to do that.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OGODWPeJeUk/Tn_oErx-paI/AAAAAAAAAVM/n6YcjiMIjm4/s1600/051.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OGODWPeJeUk/Tn_oErx-paI/AAAAAAAAAVM/n6YcjiMIjm4/s320/051.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656494824170104226" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Then I heat the milk up on the stove until it's warm/hot to the touch but not uncomfortably so, and pour that into the yeast mixture. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bDpMjfFTnDg/Tn_oE45Vy3I/AAAAAAAAAVU/CRFFgs6JVGQ/s1600/052.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bDpMjfFTnDg/Tn_oE45Vy3I/AAAAAAAAAVU/CRFFgs6JVGQ/s320/052.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656494827690642290" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>All this time I am stirring with Betsy. Then I add the 6 tablespoons of shortening. It will not completely dissolve and may clump up. This is fine, it will dissolve as the flour is added.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B1SCDkwG3H0/Tn_oFY0ErHI/AAAAAAAAAVk/ojrL7IxJ-LA/s1600/054.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B1SCDkwG3H0/Tn_oFY0ErHI/AAAAAAAAAVk/ojrL7IxJ-LA/s320/054.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656494836258483314" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Then I crack in the eggs, add the sugar, and the salt, and three cups of flour, all while mixing.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a-B5lO3QrBg/Tn_oFnb8KTI/AAAAAAAAAVs/t4x1d4BTRwg/s1600/055.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a-B5lO3QrBg/Tn_oFnb8KTI/AAAAAAAAAVs/t4x1d4BTRwg/s320/055.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656494840183793970" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Once the initial flour is added the shortening will dissolve, so don't fret if it's all clumpy until this point. The flour stirs in pretty quickly. After that I add flour by the half cup until the dough begins to firm up. I've never had to use all 7 cups of flour, but I do use a fair bit. Once it begins to firm up I switch to my dough hook. At this point I may still need to add some more flour, normally about a cup or so, but I add it slowly and wait to see how the dough reacts. If it falls apart and beings to get softer I add more flour, if it's starts forming into a nice ball I back off. Making bread is all about feel, and the more you do it the more you'll get a feel for it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Once the dough is the way I like it I knead it for a few more minutes and then dump into a bowl with a little oil in the bottom. I turn the dough once making sure that the oil completely coats the bread.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kHskftRY3O4/Tn_o7lL29rI/AAAAAAAAAV0/Q6cxiSzOYt4/s1600/056.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kHskftRY3O4/Tn_o7lL29rI/AAAAAAAAAV0/Q6cxiSzOYt4/s320/056.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656495767292409522" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Place it in a warm place, either near your stove on warm or if it's summer anywhere in your kitchen will probably suffice. Cover it and let it rise for an hour.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dOKgnqXMK3w/Tn_o8H78RII/AAAAAAAAAV8/c_D_82K5_vI/s1600/057.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dOKgnqXMK3w/Tn_o8H78RII/AAAAAAAAAV8/c_D_82K5_vI/s320/057.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656495776620889218" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>At this point I had both of my doughs rising. You can see the one on the left has been rising for about 30 minutes longer and is well over the top of the bowl. This bread does RISE.</div><div><br /></div><div>After an hour your dough should have doubled in size.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E7ht7ZbFHdg/Tn_o8cRaXJI/AAAAAAAAAWE/CWdw1Ubc4gI/s1600/058.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E7ht7ZbFHdg/Tn_o8cRaXJI/AAAAAAAAAWE/CWdw1Ubc4gI/s320/058.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656495782079650962" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Now comes my favorite part! The dough punch! It is as satisfying as bubble wrap. Literally punch your dough down.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KC_M6YZqzz0/Tn_o8lDh-PI/AAAAAAAAAWM/RocDUPP3vdg/s1600/059.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KC_M6YZqzz0/Tn_o8lDh-PI/AAAAAAAAAWM/RocDUPP3vdg/s320/059.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656495784437348594" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Once the dough is punched down I start ripping off pieces and placing them on a greased cookie sheet (I rub the cookie sheet down with shortening). You'll need at least two pans to cook all these rolls. The original recipe says to turn out on a floured surface, I've never done this. This is also satisfying. Your dough should be pretty stretchy and smooth. I always make mine way too large, but I use the leftover rolls for sandwiches for the days after. Smaller rolls would probably be better if this isn't your intention. These also freeze well, so don't be upset when you yield more rolls than you and your loved ones can possibly consume in one meal.</div><div><br /></div><div>Cover the rolls on the cookie sheets again and let rest/rise for 30 minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bake in the oven at 350 degrees.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cEFfRzKs8bg/Tn_o8_LPWwI/AAAAAAAAAWU/0C4T011CaeM/s1600/063.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cEFfRzKs8bg/Tn_o8_LPWwI/AAAAAAAAAWU/0C4T011CaeM/s320/063.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656495791449004802" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>I won't give a time as it depends on how big your rolls are. You want them lightly golden browned on the top, but not overly brown on the bottom.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2_whSvSUrrQ/Tn_pllE0oPI/AAAAAAAAAWk/qHta2VNjxLY/s1600/068.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2_whSvSUrrQ/Tn_pllE0oPI/AAAAAAAAAWk/qHta2VNjxLY/s320/068.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656496488817402098" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After they come out melt some butter or margarine in the microwave for a few seconds.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sfLPoagy9SA/Tn_pl9NhpFI/AAAAAAAAAWs/8fKnvk4wiK0/s1600/069.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sfLPoagy9SA/Tn_pl9NhpFI/AAAAAAAAAWs/8fKnvk4wiK0/s320/069.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656496495296357458" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Rub the melted margarine/butter on the tops of your rolls.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sKuMlhdPxNE/Tn_pmDx2BqI/AAAAAAAAAW0/V5fKOA4UAq4/s1600/070.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sKuMlhdPxNE/Tn_pmDx2BqI/AAAAAAAAAW0/V5fKOA4UAq4/s320/070.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656496497059301026" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The finished product is so soft, and such awesome quality. A lot of people complain, in the original recipe, about lack of flavor but I think these rolls taste like great quality bread. They don't need the bells and whistles</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ED5vYA9-80/Tn_pmf3QKkI/AAAAAAAAAW8/CJEByCNNlXg/s1600/072.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ED5vYA9-80/Tn_pmf3QKkI/AAAAAAAAAW8/CJEByCNNlXg/s320/072.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656496504598178370" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Like I said, I adapted this recipe for sandwich loaves. All the original steps are the same, but instead of pinching/tearing off clumps for rolls, I tore it in half and placed each in a greased (with shortening) loaf pan.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0GA6AvRl-UI/Tn_plYOKzDI/AAAAAAAAAWc/rwbEEzHLkIo/s1600/065.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0GA6AvRl-UI/Tn_plYOKzDI/AAAAAAAAAWc/rwbEEzHLkIo/s320/065.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656496485366942770" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Baked this for roughly 26 minutes, until the tops were lightly golden brown.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HL1GHYVRlPI/Tn_rGwxBMgI/AAAAAAAAAXE/YLivKV6IOHM/s1600/075.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HL1GHYVRlPI/Tn_rGwxBMgI/AAAAAAAAAXE/YLivKV6IOHM/s320/075.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656498158402875906" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And did the same butter treatment to the top. This also helps prevent the bread from becoming too dry.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bQS6QbzJiLM/Tn_rHPLLNPI/AAAAAAAAAXM/_Fz0uGdsMH0/s1600/076.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bQS6QbzJiLM/Tn_rHPLLNPI/AAAAAAAAAXM/_Fz0uGdsMH0/s320/076.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656498166565647602" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>This is my first time using it to make sandwich bread, but it turned out awesome!</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkb9p2xqvm4/Tn_rHalR9JI/AAAAAAAAAXU/mNnJHPzJoQ4/s1600/077.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkb9p2xqvm4/Tn_rHalR9JI/AAAAAAAAAXU/mNnJHPzJoQ4/s320/077.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656498169627931794" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The inside looks just like sandwich bread!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IhdrPGCkdVA/Tn_rHk7zDRI/AAAAAAAAAXc/EYU8225zuoU/s1600/078.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IhdrPGCkdVA/Tn_rHk7zDRI/AAAAAAAAAXc/EYU8225zuoU/s320/078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656498172406730002" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Even with broken arms, it sliced up so easily and thin for sandwiches</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qkCOxHqw5ts/Tn_tIZ9NvdI/AAAAAAAAAXs/Ax2yFZvgsE8/s1600/080.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qkCOxHqw5ts/Tn_tIZ9NvdI/AAAAAAAAAXs/Ax2yFZvgsE8/s320/080.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656500385663008210" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I sliced one loaf and got two of these wrapped packages, and wrapped the other loaf and placed it in the freezer for later consumption.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jGClKZzOhMA/Tn_rICy2A5I/AAAAAAAAAXk/SjOpvOciHcs/s1600/079.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jGClKZzOhMA/Tn_rICy2A5I/AAAAAAAAAXk/SjOpvOciHcs/s320/079.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656498180422239122" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Even for beginner bread makers this recipe is pretty simple, easy, and very easy to adapt to make other types of bread.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-47437646510527966862011-09-25T08:14:00.003-05:002011-09-25T08:17:23.008-05:00New cooking challengeI'm starting a new challenge! I know my 300/60 challenge petered out, but I DID actually complete it to the best of my ability. I just ran out of things to post by the end of it. <div><br /></div><div>My new challenge is a cooking challenge. This will keep me from eating out as much, and to get the motivation to try all the new recipes I've been pouring over. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will:</div><div><br /></div><div>Post at least 4 times a week, complete with pictures and step by step instructions.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will link back to wherever I stole the recipe from or give the cookbook and page number.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will make at least one "Make ahead meal" a week, whether this is frozen or shelf stable (such as a granola or homemade crackers)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm excited!! I will begin this today and go for the next month :)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-55780786066755597862011-09-16T20:52:00.003-05:002011-09-16T21:43:40.136-05:00Had to question myselfTwice this week I have had to question whether my beliefs were offending or insulting to others, and whether I was in the wrong for them. I came to the conclusion that I wasn't wrong, but perhaps my beliefs insulted others. I suppose every belief out there could be an insult to others. <div><br /></div><div>Earlier this week a friend of a friend on facebook used the "N" word to describe a group of people. She claimed it wasn't racist as the "N" means ignorant and there are ignorant Black people. I came to the conclusion that the "N" word is racist, shouldn't be used, and that people who use it are either 1)racist or 2)ignorant to the history of that word. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't like any word that is used to put down a group of people. Among some of my most hated are the "N" word (a word so vile I can't type it or utter it without feeling absolutely shameful and dirty), the word "retarded", "gay, "fag", and just about any other racist term. None of those words have any other inference but hatred. Saying something is "gay" is always an insult, and that in turn insults every homosexual out there. Same with "fag". "Retarded" went from a medical term to one used to insult everything. It's uttered everywhere and makes me cringe every time. </div><div><br /></div><div>I understand that there are black people who have taken the "N" word and used it on themselves as a term of endearment. It still makes me cringe, but not as badly. I understand wanting to take a vile word and try to take ownership of it. Someone has less of a chance of insulting you if you own the word. I'm physically handicapped. I'm okay with my husband, my friends, and my handicap friends jokingly calling me "gimp" or something similar. However, if a stranger yelled that at me I would be livid and highly insulted.</div><div><br /></div><div>If someone I know uses the "N" word it will forever color my perception of them. </div><div><br /></div><div>I lost a friend off facebook tonight. I can't say I'm surprised. It was a long time coming. We were really really good friends years ago. I could have seen myself remaining friends with her our entire lives. Then she converted to a very very strict religious Christian sect. She suddenly became someone it was hard to hold a conversation with. Many things she said or did I didn't agree with but bit my tongue - such as encouraging her child to spread the word of God at public school. She was my friend, she was new to her religion and it wasn't my place to say otherwise.</div><div><br /></div><div>A few months ago she posted a copy and paste rant on facebook that basically was complaining that non-Christians are free to speak their mind but Christians aren't. I responded, thinking foolishly that she was expecting responses. I posted that its not that us non-Christians don't want to hear what Christians have to say but merely the way it's posted. Being in your face Christians who tell others they are sinners or are going to hell is not the way to get your point across. This spun into quite a few people, all with similar beliefs as hers, attacking me for being a non-Christian. Please note, I am NOT an Atheist. There are numerous religions out there besides Christianity and Atheism. She told me repeatedly that she can't and will never "respect" my religion or beliefs - even though I told her numerous times that I respect hers and respect doesn't mean you have to agree. She kept telling me that basically I'm going to hell unless I repent and that my religion was garbage.</div><div><br /></div><div>A few weeks later she apologized to me only after talking to a fellow Christian who told her the proper way to convert people. I knew at this point our relationship would never be the same. I'm not anti-Christian by any means. Most of the people I love the most are Christians and I respect them completely for their beliefs, I also respect the majority for the way they conduct themselves as Christians. There are those that anger me, and as I'm surrounded by Christians those are the type that catch my attention the most. If I were surrounded by Muslims, or Buddhists I'm sure I'd have more to say and I would read more articles about the ones I disagree with.</div><div><br /></div><div>I use MY facebook as my way of posting articles that anger me, fascinate me, or make me happy. I might post an article about a child abuser, or a very sweet heart touching story, or something political/religious. I have learned to not comment on others Facebooks when they post something I disagree with but I welcome opinions on mine. It's how I learn. I believe you must always question yourself to continue learning and reaffirming your beliefs. If it wasn't for debating and discussions I wouldn't be the type of parent I am today. If you can't question yourself and come out still believing you were never really strong in those beliefs in the first place.</div><div><br /></div><div>I posted an article about a senator in NC who was very anti-homosexuals and a lesbian in that state who had a conversation with him. She was threatening to leave the state if he was re-elected just like many businesses who left due to the anti-homosexual beliefs. My entire comment was "This is worth reposting". Thats it. I didn't say the guy was a douchebag, although I do believe he is one. Chris's friend, who enjoys "trolling" by arguing everything I write responded and we discussed it back and forth for a bit and then moved on. My mom commented a few times, and then my friend commented.</div><div><br /></div><div>Somehow the conversation got off track and became about Christians and their beliefs, the interpretations of the bible, and how the bible has been used throughout history to deny the rights of others. I talked about how different interpretations show that there is no where in the New Testament that strictly prohibits homosexuality if you use the definitions of that time period. She was dumbfounded that I would believe her God could condone it. Never once, in any of my postings, did I say Christians were awful vile people. However, no one can deny that the bible has been used in the past to deny the rights of others - specifically women, and black people, and interracial marriage. Today it's the homosexual population.</div><div><br /></div><div>The conversation ended with her deleting me off facebook and messaging me that she's tired of my rants on Christians. She is continuously posting pro-Christian stuff, pro-Bachman/Perry articles, and blogs discounting other religions. She fails to see the hypocrisy in this.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am always quick to say that I don't lump all Christians into the same group, but I had to really look back at myself today. Was I in the wrong for my posting? I had to come to the same conclusion I had earlier. No. As long as there are a group of people who are bent on denying the rights to others I will be out spoken against them. This means I am against the belief and those who force it that would deny women the rights over their own body, the rights to homosexuals, and the right to freedom of religion - any religion, even the non-Christian ones. Does this mean I'm against Christians? No. I don't care what religion you are, you have no right to take the rights from others. Regardless of what your bible, preacher, or beliefs say. There are numerous beliefs in the bible that are no longer in use today, and one day this will be another.</div><div><br /></div><div>So even though I lost a friend, regrettably, I do feel I am in the right. Hopefully one day we'll reconcile and we'll grow old together, but not as long as she feels that her religion supersedes the feelings of those who believe differently, or the rights of those she disagrees with.</div><div><br /></div><div>"The right to swing my fist ends where the other man's nose begins." - Oliver Wendell Holmes</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-53907889516270256392011-09-10T23:23:00.003-05:002011-09-10T23:34:59.335-05:00Feeling like a whale, and stuff<div>I feel like a whale. Here I am at 14 weeks 5 days. I think my body has given up on me and has just decided to pretend we're already nearly done. I was looking at belly shots of when I was pregnant with Anastasia, I wasn't much bigger than this at 32 weeks 5 days. I am so excited to eventually be done being pregnant and get my body back into rocking shape and LEAVE IT THERE.</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/301030_10150286818536892_653616891_8286298_954363173_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 537px; height: 720px;" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/301030_10150286818536892_653616891_8286298_954363173_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Some where along the way I've lost my brain. Completely lost it. Without thinking I volunteered to not only be a Girl Scout Leader but to completely START UP a new troop. Completely. This is really stressing me out as there is so much to do and all the literature was kind of dumped on our laps without too much guidance. We (another insane mother volunteered with me) have to start a business bank account once we decide on dues and convince other parents to give us money, map out an entire year of girl scouting, make sure the girls are earning patches and petals, and adhering to Girl Scout Guidelines (which are actually pretty relaxed which only makes it more difficult to figure out a starting point). </div><div><br /></div><div>As if my insanity hadn't caused enough stress, at Anthony's first Cub Scout meeting it was revealed that they didn't have any den leaders for his Wolves den. So of course I volunteered. I can't help myself. I've been told numerous times in the past I need to learn to say "no" but I can't. I can't ignore someone in need. It will be my downfall. Luckily, the previous Wolves Den Leader was super organized and just handed me all her supplies, so this will be a lot easier than the GS. Plus, I'm one of 7 leaders in the Pack and all of them have been supportive, which is a lot more help than just one other mom who has no idea what she is doing either. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Blue and Gold ceremony for the CS is only 7 days after my tentative induction date. Originally it was ON my induction date, but thank goodness it's not anymore! As long as I'm out of the hospital I'll be there! I get cabin fever sitting at home too much.</div><div><br /></div><div>Couple all of this with raging hormones, a flare of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and looser joints (which means more dislocation and pain) and I am worn out. I'll rest when I'm dead I suppose!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-27082096494703743762011-09-05T11:22:00.002-05:002011-09-05T11:34:00.492-05:00Sometimes I feel as if I'm drowningI know I have been awful lately about updating this. I have been so busy being sick, and tired, running after the 4 kids, getting the older 2 ready for school, and dealing with the fallout that school brings. Especially with Anthony.<div><br /></div><div>I feel as if I fell off the wagon a few weeks ago and have been running to get back on - and repeatedly missing it. I have been so stressed out and grumpy that I'm not being the wife, friend, or mother I want to be. I pulled back out my go to author, Dr. Sears, for advice, and am currently rereading "The Discipline book". I don't feel as if I've done the best job of gentle discipline lately. It's so nice to have affirmation that the way I'm parenting isn't bad, and a gentle nudge to get back on track.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anthony can quickly make me want to bury my head in a pillow and scream as loud as possible. There are days I feel we need to walk on eggshells around him to make sure he doesn't have a meltdown. I talked to his teacher and told her his issues with TV and she replied, "Are you sure its not something YOUR watching at home - he's fine at school". Thanks lady. I'm sure. We don't watch TV when he's home. And his outbursts can come days or hours later, it's not always immediate.</div><div><br /></div><div>I spent the first 2/3rds of his birthday party dealing with meltdowns and urging him to complete the task he was set to do hours prior to the party. All because Chris, being nice, let them watch a cartoon that morning while we got the house set up.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't even know where I'm going with this post, I just needed to vent as I am dealing with, yet another, meltdown this morning and Chris is at the gym and unable to help.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-55304686845930524072011-08-01T19:54:00.002-05:002011-08-01T19:56:51.311-05:009 weeks 1 day<div>When I was in the ER this weekend the doctor told me I was beginning to show. I had kind of been in denial up until then, but after that Chris kept telling me that I DID look pregnant. This is me at 9 weeks 1 day.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/263350_10150254881276892_653616891_7993810_886621_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 537px; height: 720px;" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/263350_10150254881276892_653616891_7993810_886621_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-71500447226715661792011-07-31T14:38:00.001-05:002011-07-31T14:38:40.592-05:00Ended back up in the ER!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; ">Chris and I were about to walk out for a date night and I went to the bathroom and there was a gush of bright red blood. I freaked out and told Chris we needed to go to the ER so he loaded the kids up and took them to the babysitter anyway and met me at the ER. They were so kind. I was crying and could hardly talk while giving them my information but they were very sympathetic and patient. They told me they couldn't do much for me but drew some blood to check my HCG level and took me down to ultrasound.<br /><br />We saw the baby. Absolutely beautiful! Normally they don't let you see the screen or tell you anything but they let me watch and I was so grateful. I didn't even need a transvaginal. The baby actually looks like a baby now. It was the most adorable looking thing, and I could even see the little outlines of it's little fingers. It had it's hands near it's mouth And we saw a beautiful heartbeat! The baby looked wonderful.<br /><br />I saw the same doctor I saw last time. He said the bleed is in the same spot. It had been trying to clot off but now it's bleeding again. Chris and I had sex the night before and I worry that it caused the bleed. The doctor said I'm on indefinite pelvic rest for now - no orgasms, and no penetration of any kind. Thankfully Chris was there and heard it from him! He thinks I have a 95% chance of delivering a healthy baby, which means I still have 5x the risk of miscarriage as the average person but its still good odds. This babe is holding on tight!<br /><br />Chris had damaged his foot last week so while we were there they took the stitches out for him too, which I was grateful for! He was youtubing how to do it himself! His doctor who stitched him was the same one I saw both times so it was kind of funny.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-19330086488407677162011-07-16T10:24:00.002-05:002011-07-16T11:12:33.912-05:00Attachment Parenting is not a tool for spoiling!Earlier this week I encountered a conversation with some friends of a friend that actually surprised me. I suppose I am so use to be surrounded by people who at least can admit that validity in Attachment style Parenting that I'm not used to people completely dismissing it as a form of spoiling.<div><br /></div><div>I love Dr. Sears view on the subject, <a href="http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/child-rearing-and-development/spoiling">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Spoiling happens when a child is put on the shelf, left alone, forgotten about--the way that food spoils." </span></span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I'm not speaking ill of methods of parenting, but I do believe whole heartily in the logic with AP and there are numerous studies and research to back it up.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Baby wearing is not "new age". <a href="http://www.slingbabies.co.nz/Site/History_2.ashx">Wearing your children has been around since the dawn of time practically</a>, and nearly every culture has their own ways to do it. Strollers are more new age. The first stroller was invented in the 1700's. Babies were worn long before then. It's not new, and it's doesn't spoil the baby. Studies actual show that a child who is attended to, a child raised in the AP style, tends to be more independent and well adjusted when they grow up. Thats not to say using a stroller will make your child dependent and maladjusted, it's just more in favor for babywearing.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Not all baby wraps and slings are made equal. <a href="http://www.continuum-concept.org/reading/spinalStress.html">Snugglie, Baby Bjorn</a>, ect are very bad for baby's spine. The more primitive the carrier the better for baby. Slings, wraps (like Moby's) and soft structured carriers are far better. The ERGO is a good compromise as the baby sits, rather than dangles. Plus the baby is skin to skin with mama where the Baby Bjorn and Snugglie are more in a pouch.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">The other comments made were about breastfeeding. It is NOT child molestation to breastfeed your child past the first birthday. <a href="http://www.kathydettwyler.org/detwean.html">The biological age of weaning is between 2 and 7 years of age</a>.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Just because babe can eat food doesn't suddenly make breastmilk unhealthy. I love this quote, "</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 3px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 3px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" > the first six months of breastfeeding are clearly much more important in terms of the baby's nutrition and immunological development than the six months from 3.5 to 4.0 years. That doesn't mean that you shouldn't continue to provide breast milk if your baby wants and you don't mind. It would be like saying, "Well Mabel, we don't get very much income from that oil well anymore. Used to get $56 a month in royalties, now we're lucky if we get $25 a year. Guess we should tell that oil company just to keep their durn money." And Mabel says, in return "Good grief, Clyde, don't be ridiculous. That check still buys $25 worth of food. Where has your mind gone to now?""</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 3px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 3px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 3px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 3px; ">Breasts were made to feed our babies. The sexual pleasure some women and men derive from them, are not their first function. Nursing a child is no more sexual than changing their diaper. Anyone who thinks otherwise is the pervert - not the mother nursing. The health benefits to nursing are far to numerous to list, but are undeniable. Nursing a child will not spoil them or make them grow up to be sexual predators. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 3px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 3px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 3px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 3px; ">Whether you are an attached parent or a traditional parent there should be respect for the way other people parent. There also has to be acknowledgment when research and history tells you that something is beneficial and not harmful.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-50140951171169126712011-07-09T22:22:00.002-05:002011-07-09T22:46:24.346-05:00Family<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life.</b></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; ">-</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; ">Richard Bach</span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>The family you come from isn't as important as the family you're going to have.<br />- Ring Lardner</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Even as a young child I used to dream of the perfect family. The kind where you can confide in your mom, and your dad scares all your boyfriends (out of love, not just because it's fun), you borrow your sisters clothes and gossip about your latest dates. Where, as adults, you visit each other frequently, and your kids and nieces/nephews are the best of friends and every year at holiday time you gather around the same tree and it's fun.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Thats not the family I have. I love my family, even with their faults and I hope they love me despite mine, but we are not close. I have one sibling who I DO see myself growing old with while our children play together. One. Out of five.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Chris gets very frustrated with me because I spend way to much time upset over things my family does that continues to hurt me. He'd rather I just move on and cut as much ties as I can. He doesn't like to see me hurt, and I love him for that. He cut ties with his mother for nearly 5 years because of drama. They have a decent relationship now and the drama is gone. He wants the same for me, but I have never been one who has been good at cutting someone out. They are FAMILY, it's difficult to give up completely. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">I have a great non-biological family, though. It's not the same, at all, as one you are tied to - but it's still nice. Everyone deserves someone who is happy for them, and who they can confide in. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Perhaps this is why my need to have a large family of my own is so great. My children will know barely any of their cousins. My sisters kids, if she has any, will be the only ones they see regularly. She is the only one I don't have panic attacks at the idea of seeing. I hope I can somehow raise a family that is different than my own. One where everybody visits at the same time, without stress. I hope my grandkids grow up together.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Chris tells me that perhaps this is a good thing. I will be the Matriarch of my family. He is always trying to find the silver lining when I can't see one. It's hard to foster something in your family that is foreign to you.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">My two best friends, and myself (I hope), are all moving away from each other over this next year. We already plan to meet up once a year or so to visit with each other. It may not be a holiday gathered around a tree, but it's still a visit with people I consider my family. I am lucky, in the regard, that I have many amazing people who I love and who loves me that live scattered across the country. No matter where we go we'll be close to someone. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Perhaps one day I'll reconnect to my other siblings - and see my parents again (it's been 4 years since I've seen either of them), but there is a lot of bad blood thats never been discussed and I fear it's that - more than anything else - that keeps us from being close. </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-57417117813626180552011-07-07T15:54:00.004-05:002011-07-07T16:03:19.371-05:00Baby is a little troublemaker!The reason I haven't posted is I didn't want to relay bad news.<div><br /></div><div>On July 4th I went to the ER after three days of light pink bleeding. On the 4th it picked up a bit and became clots, but was still light pink in color or brown. No bright red thank goodness! But I was scared enough, especially since EDS can raise your risk of many things during pregnancy - such as a placental abruption and miscarriage. The ER was very nice which is much different than my experience when I miscarried back in 2007. Even though I was early, roughly 5 weeks 2 day, nobody made me feel ridiculous for being worried I was miscarrying. </div><div><br /></div><div>They ran a few tests, a urine analysis, and HCG blood draw, and two ultrasounds (abdominal and transvaginal). The HCG came back great at 1418 which was a relief. However, one of the ultrasounds showed a moderate to large bleed under the placenta (which would increase my risk of miscarriage, and in later pregnancy would be akin to a placental abruption). I was told to have hope but that I would most likely lose the baby. I was devastated. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've spent the last few days guzzling water, and resting as much as I can. I went back to the OB yesterday to have another HCG draw. I'm still awaiting results.</div><div><br /></div><div>The good news is the bleeding has completely stopped. Morning sickness set in yesterday and hasn't let up. A lot of things I've read online and from my friends have said that there is a good possibility I WON'T lose this baby. I also read that it can be hard to diagnose a subchorionic hematoma so early in pregnancy because it may resemble that of a gestational sac. So I have hope. And hopefully next week I'll have great news!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-78122054603625141132011-06-29T20:30:00.003-05:002011-06-29T20:33:42.299-05:00ExhaustedIt's amazing how quickly this pregnancy is taking the life out of me. I've never been tired this early before. I guess your body reacts quicker when you've had so many kids. I know I promised a blog post about the desk and I will deliver sometime this week/weekend.<div><br /></div><div>Today the clinic confirmed the pregnancy. It feels so great to have it confirmed. The kids are super excited too. I am due between March 4th and March 9th and will deliver between February 11th, and February 16th. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-24818326838206642132011-06-26T14:50:00.003-05:002011-06-26T15:12:14.119-05:00And Baby Makes 5!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iEEO0AQ-vsA/TgeNoVmPH8I/AAAAAAAAATY/NimwITyu7wo/s1600/photo%2B%252823%2529.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iEEO0AQ-vsA/TgeNoVmPH8I/AAAAAAAAATY/NimwITyu7wo/s320/photo%2B%252823%2529.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622618383927156674" /></a><br /><div><br /></div>Thats right! We are pregnant again! I'm due between March 3rd and March 7th making me 3 weeks 4 days to 4 weeks 1 day pregnant - so still very early. I am very excited but also quite calm this time around. We let Anthony read the test to the kids and he was so excited as was Anastasia. David doesn't really care and Charlie has no clue what is going on. One of my best friends just found out she is pregnant and is due March 6th so we are literally due within days of each other!<div><br /></div><div>I'm preparing myself for the comments that always seem to come with pregnancy. So....</div><div><br /></div><div>1) Yes, we know what causes this. It's hand holding, right? We quit holding hands years ago and yet we still keep finding ourselves knocked up. It's strange. Perhaps it's because we keep sleeping in the same bed. </div><div><br /></div><div>This pregnancy was planned, and we are quite happy.</div><div><br /></div><div>2) No, we are not trying to beat any records. Five kids is hardly a record. The record for most children is 69 (you can find the link<a href="http://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/news/2008/03/080304.aspx"> here</a>) I highly doubt that 5 is anywhere near enough to constitute a record. When I give birth to my 60th child, (which at this rate will happen when I'm 140 years old) then feel free to ask me if I am trying to set a record.</div><div><br /></div><div>3) Yes, we can afford them. Why is it that whenever a woman gets pregnant people feel as if all social politeness no longer applies? Do I get to ask you if you can afford to buy that new car when I know you are behind on bills? How about can I ask you how you feel you can afford to pay for that new home? Are salon visits really affordable? Are you sure you can afford your tenth pair of shoes?</div><div><br /></div><div>It is rude to inquire about someones finances, regardless of whether their uterus contains a child. If I was on food stamps or welfare perhaps I can understand your concern about me being able to AFFORD a new child, but it is still rude to ask. For the record, we are not on Government Assistance, and yes - we can afford another child. We wouldn't be dumb enough to have a child we couldn't afford (at least not on purpose).</div><div><br /></div><div>4) "You can only afford to have more because you have Tricare". Um, okay? And...? Isn't that the point of insurance, and having a job with benefits? My husband chose a job that has amazing benefits. We know it has great benefits. One of them is we don't have to pay out of pocket for prenatal, labor and delivery, or post natal care among other things. The only reason I could afford my wrist fusions are because of Tricare. I don't see why we should feel bad about having health insurance. I'm pro-UHC so I believe everyone should have health coverage. I won't apologize for it.</div><div><br /></div><div>5) "You're too young to have 5 kids!" Obviously, I am not. I'm turning 26 next month. Yes, I am young. I am not, however, TOO young. I had my oldest when I turned 19. I graduated from High School, I have supported myself since I was 18 years old without help from family, or the government. I may be young but I am an adult and have been for nearly 8 years.</div><div><br /></div><div>6) No, we are not trying to create a sports team. We don't even watch sports. </div><div><br /></div><div>7) It's not our fault the world is going to crap. We may have had more children than we needed to in order to replace ourselves, but our carbon footprint is still far less than those who waste and overuse. We don't drive Hummers, we DO recycle and reuse, we use cloth products and we breastfeed (no formula cans). We are less wasteful than many families who are smaller than we are.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sure there are more points to be made, in fact I'm positive. It seems that a womans uterus is everyones business. However, it's annoying. So before you ask me something dumb, or make an ignorant comment why don't you just say "Congratulations" instead and not look like an arsehole?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-46123912345254184962011-06-22T20:22:00.002-05:002011-06-22T20:24:40.852-05:00on my wallTomorrow I shall reveal my nearly complete office space. I love it, it's a place all my own. It still needs paint but that won't happen for a while, so it is what it is until then. I have this poem hanging on the wall and I love it. I need it to remind me that sometimes the dishes can wait and even if I've read that book a billion times I should read it again. For some people the bible is their source for comfort and inspiration. For me, it's my quote book and this was one of the quotes I copied in it when I was pregnant with Anthony.<div><br /></div><div> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book', sans-serif; font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px; ">My hands were busy through the day</span></div> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">I didn’t have much time to play<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">The little game you asked me to,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">I didn’t have much time for you.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">I’d wash your clothes, I’d sew and cook<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">But when you’d bring your picture book<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">And ask me please to share your fun,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">I’d say, “A little later, son.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">But life is short, the years rush past,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">A little boy grows up so fast!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">Now the picture books are put away,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">There aren’t any games to play.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">No good night kiss, no prayers to hear;<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">That all belongs to yester year.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">My hands once busy, now lie still,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">The days are long and hard to fill.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">I wish I might go back and do<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">The little things you asked me to!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Franklin Gothic Book","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family:FrankRuehl">-Alice Chase<o:p></o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-54710182243544172712011-06-18T22:06:00.005-05:002011-06-18T23:09:33.486-05:00Laying it all outI am the mother of a child with Aspergers and a Mood Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (NOS).<div><br /></div><div>I have hesitated to post anything about this. Thus far I have only shared this with family (so they can have medical history for their children), and close close friends. I have this rule where I don't post anything negative about my kids or my husband, even in frustration. I didn't want to post this because I was afraid it was painting my child in a negative light. Then I realized - I am treating this just like I fear so many others will treat him once they learn that he is different. It's not negative, it's nothing to be ashamed of, and I need to stop treating him as if something is "wrong" and accept that this is who he is.</div><div><br /></div><div>I always knew Anthony was different. From the time he was born something was just abnormal. He never cried. I'm not saying he hardly cried. He literally didn't cry for the first time until he was three weeks old. We weren't sure he COULD cry until then. Even as a newborn he wasn't a fan of being held or cuddled. He was much more content being by himself. I remember wishing so hard when I was pregnant with Anastasia for a child who enjoyed being cuddled (and I surely got that with her!). </div><div><br /></div><div>Around his first birthday we started noticing other things. He would bang his head as hard as he could anytime he got upset. If we restrained him he'd bang his head on US until we let him go and then he'd find the hardest surface and bang his head over and over until he felt better. His forehead was constantly bruised and I would tell his pediatrician who at one point recommended he be tested for Autism. The psychologist only sat with him once, declared he was too high functioning, and dismissed us.</div><div><br /></div><div>Around this time my other friends children began side playing. Playing along side another toddler, not necessarily playing with them - but they would happily play with the same toy or in the same area. We were attending weekly playgroups and this was the first time someone else noticed something was different about him. The kids would all be playing in the same area, and way across the room Anthony would be playing by himself. If the kids came to where he was he would leave and find some where else to play. Anytime there was more than one child present Anthony would separate himself from the group and play alone.</div><div><br /></div><div>We knew he was quite smart early on. Before his second birthday he had taught himself how to spell, and write his own name. By his first birthday he knew all his colors, how to count to 20, his shapes, letters, ect. We chalked it up to him being the oldest and therefore having 2 solid years of one on one attention from the both of us. However, once he began pre-k - in which he was by far the youngest student - we knew that his intelligence wasn't just something taught to him. His teacher was astonished on the first day and pulled us aside to tell us that he basically already could do all they'd ask of him that year. There were kids in his class who couldn't say the alphabet yet. Of course we were proud of him! However, it became apparent that what he made up for in intelligence he greatly lacked in other areas. He wasn't like the rest of the kids in his class. He seemed much younger, and although was chronologically younger than most of them, he seemed extremely younger. His maturity, or lack thereof, was extremely obvious. We laughed it off as he was a boy and everyone knows boys are more immature, and he was afterall nearly a year younger than some. I knew, though, that this was more than just that.</div><div><br /></div><div>When my friends would come by with their boys, all of whom were younger by a year than Anthony, it became harder and harder to ignore. Others began pointing it out as well. He just seemed so much younger than everyone else. They also seemed more into age appropriate activities whereas Anthony (who had learned to read at this point) would spend all day reading the kid encyclopedias and repeating incessantly facts about his latest fascination. Or he'd find directions on how to build a certain thing and follow them to the "T". There was no imaginative play, thinking outside the box, or playing with toys in ways that were different. A block never became a phone, lego's were never used to build anything that there wasn't a direction for. He never played "house" or any of those other games that children play. Playdates were always followed by major meltdowns as well.</div><div><br /></div><div>Starting around the end of his third year were the morbid thoughts. Horrible morbid thoughts that you never would expect out of a three-going-on-four year old. He'd be perfectly content one moment and the next he'd be crying and screaming. When asked what was wrong he'd tell us some long tale about what he didn't want to happen, such as "I don't want a bad man coming through my window at night and cutting off my head" (this was an actual fear of his that came out numerous times). We couldn't figure out where they were coming from! We never let him watch gruesome TV, he was only allowed to watch Noggin or PBS. He wasn't reading anything that would give him nightmares. He loved to read but we kept him from the grown up books anyway. Without fail these thoughts would crop up a few times a week and we were left trying to calm down a child and explain to him how illogical that was. These moments I felt as if my heart would break, but I was also so angry. WHY can't he just see how those thoughts didn't make sense?! Why weren't the doctors taking us seriously? His pediatrician just kept telling us to tell him those thoughts were illogical, but it didn't seem to do any good. It didn't feel right, either. He was legitimately terrified, and didn't know why. His monsters lived in his head.</div><div><br /></div><div>In Kindergarten his social awkwardness became so bad he began to get badly bullied. He also stopped doing his schoolwork, which resulted in loss of recess and center time - which further alienated him from his peers. Shortly after the school year began his teacher, whom we had requested, went on maternity leave. Her replacement was awful but as his real teacher was supposed to return after Holiday break we endured it. However, she decided to not return and so the substitute stayed on. The bullying got worse and so we met with the teacher to discuss our concerns. She was no help. She claimed Anthony brought it upon himself for not acting normal and if he would just act normal he'd be fine. She refused to give him harder work to do saying that it wasn't fair to the other kids that he was so above them. I should have given her an ear full, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't stand up for my child the way he needed me to. Instead we decided to homeschool him.</div><div><br /></div><div>Homeschooling did well but we noticed he was drifting further and further away from the social skills he desperately needed to learn. His pediatrician finally took us seriously after he had a meltdown that lasted over four hours that we nearly had to have him hospitalized for. One of my scariest days as a parent was watching my five year old trying to hurt himself, and my husband having to restrain him. Anthony was hyperventilating, he looked absolutely terrified, and I could tell he wasn't really with us. I was looking up numbers for adolescent wards, and crying myself because I was so scared for him. We finally got him settled down and he spent the next few days in a manic state - hardly sleeping and pouring through a stack of books his size that he "had to get through". His therapist recommended we send him back to public school so that he could gain more social skills, so we did after Holiday Break. His new school is wonderful and he hasn't been bullied at all. He still doesn't have many friends, but everyone is nice to him anyway. He still has numerous meltdowns, nearly one a day at least. He's only had two serious meltdowns that had us worried about him being hospitalized since that one though.</div><div><br /></div><div>A month or so ago, after being in therapy for 6 months, his therapist decided to have further testing done on him. This was for social IQ and intellectual IQ. As expected, his intelligence scores were in the 99% and above. For nonverbal memory and spelling he scored in the above range but not as high which they believe means he has a nonverbal block of some sort. Once they get everything else under control they believe these scores will shoot up to the 99% and above as well.</div><div><br /></div><div>He is basically in a state of crisis because his emotions are so out of whack. It also came out in the testing that he hears voices that aren't there. This made me feel as if I got punched in the stomach. They don't believe his has schizophrenia yet, or bipolar disorder, but they do believe he has something which is why they diagnosed with him with Mood Disorder NOS. His therapist believes it is more along the lines of "Emotional Regulation Disorder" so we shall wait and see what further testing and therapy reveals. He was also diagnosed with Aspergers. This isn't something I'm terribly surprised about, given the fact that Autism was tossed around when he was younger, but I'm still in denial about it. I need to get over this, but I have a hard time accepting that my son has something that isn't fixable. Thats partly why I'm posting this. This is who he is. He is Anthony, an amazing gifted boy who loves superhereos and reading. He has quirks and he sees the world differently but that doesn't make him WRONG. I guess, having the labels of Aspergers and Mood Disorder, it's saying that there is something wrong with him. It makes it hard for me because both of those define so much of who he is and yet they are issues that have to be dealt with through therapy and other treatments. I'm having a hard time separating that from saying that who my son is is wrong.</div><div><br /></div><div>Along with his therapy, Chris and I will be in therapy to learn how to handle all of this. They believe that his IQ is high enough that he can teach himself how to respond appropriately, and which emotions are used when. At the end of it all, regardless of what he teaches himself, he will always have Aspergers. So I guess this blog will also follow the life of a mother learning to accept that and deal with it. </div><div><br /></div><div>This blog has so many paths, it feels as chaotic as my actual life. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-762508614692449133.post-80616250334597136512011-06-08T14:20:00.005-05:002011-06-08T19:05:29.624-05:00Vacation!The reason I haven't been posting on here is we went on a week long vacation trip to the Black Hills! It was our first family vacation, the first time I've been camping and the second time I've been to the Black Hills. The first time I was only 8 so I have very vague memories of it.<div><br /></div><div>The night before we left, Sunday, we were up until about Midnight packing the car, prepping the food for the trip, and making sure everything was ready. We only got a few hours of sleep before waking up at 2:30 in the morning to get the kids up and ready to go. The goal was to be on the road by 3 so that the kids could sleep the first half of the trip and we wouldn't need to stop as much. We ended up pulling out of the driveway at 3:15 so we weren't very far behind. I drove the first part of the trip, it was quite peaceful as no one was really on the road and the kids were asleep. They stayed asleep until 6:30 and we stopped an hour later for a bathroom break and to switch drivers. I had made the kids breakfast trailmix (various cereal and dried fruit) so we didn't need to stop and eat. The scenery was absolutely beautiful. Hills and lakes, greenery, trees... It was so beautiful. There were tons of Beaver homes in the lakes we passed, which I found to be amazing.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-sNXzZQjM8Gg/Tew0wABfwrI/AAAAAAAAAE0/tRLxLK-RpK8/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520005.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-sNXzZQjM8Gg/Tew0wABfwrI/AAAAAAAAAE0/tRLxLK-RpK8/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520005.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Chris driving on the way there</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-q2VNMRWhm8M/Tew0zut21aI/AAAAAAAAAFw/Cgs8g7Gz3Gs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520022.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-q2VNMRWhm8M/Tew0zut21aI/AAAAAAAAAFw/Cgs8g7Gz3Gs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520022.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We got into South Dakota pretty early, and most of the towns were extremely small. Less than 1000 people small. We stopped at this gas station and everyone kept looking at us and whispering. I think it's because they had no idea who we were!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-uGFteuEJskk/Tew02X9iT1I/AAAAAAAAAGU/x3XPDemxOzc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520031.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-uGFteuEJskk/Tew02X9iT1I/AAAAAAAAAGU/x3XPDemxOzc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520031.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On the way there we passed through The Badlands. Oh my goodness. They were gorgeous! We paid to go the scenic route and it took us over an hour to drive through the 13.1 mile stretch but it was absolutely worth it.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-8PJAUomCpIQ/Tew0-2CdBHI/AAAAAAAAAII/_fuc6XG8zsU/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520060.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-8PJAUomCpIQ/Tew0-2CdBHI/AAAAAAAAAII/_fuc6XG8zsU/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520060.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Bc4Kx9VHkHw/Tew1WFYDDvI/AAAAAAAAAN0/cTXl6u1phQo/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520149.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Bc4Kx9VHkHw/Tew1WFYDDvI/AAAAAAAAAN0/cTXl6u1phQo/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520149.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-xfBMlamNSIQ/Tew1CH3pQJI/AAAAAAAAAI4/6VIt1QoM2io/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520072.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-xfBMlamNSIQ/Tew1CH3pQJI/AAAAAAAAAI4/6VIt1QoM2io/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520072.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-U_LUpbLGyUo/Tew0-doqKeI/AAAAAAAAAIA/VsMJ7Qlip64/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520058.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-U_LUpbLGyUo/Tew0-doqKeI/AAAAAAAAAIA/VsMJ7Qlip64/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520058.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rfH32V-EAuI/Tew09YA1sVI/AAAAAAAAAH4/P4cxskJXYzY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520056.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rfH32V-EAuI/Tew09YA1sVI/AAAAAAAAAH4/P4cxskJXYzY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520056.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Hh5RZFOZJ3c/Tew05S0mVyI/AAAAAAAAAG8/IyB2A4t_r8g/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520041.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Hh5RZFOZJ3c/Tew05S0mVyI/AAAAAAAAAG8/IyB2A4t_r8g/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520041.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I took over 200 pictures of the Badlands, and I would have taken more but I feared we'd run out of room on our camera. It was just absolutely beautiful.</div><div><br /></div><div>We also saw mountain goats on our way through the Black Hills. We were able to get pretty close to them as well. We also numerous deer on our trip. They are all over!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-0TBl2aogF6I/Tew1XeigSEI/AAAAAAAAAOI/zdpF7fAULpY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520154.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-0TBl2aogF6I/Tew1XeigSEI/AAAAAAAAAOI/zdpF7fAULpY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520154.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>By the time we go to our campsite (<a href="http://www.horsethief.com/">Horse Thief Campgrounds</a>) it had begun to rain a little so I sat in the car with the kids while Chris set up our tent.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-yAWHp1G_igA/Tew1YjdaBvI/AAAAAAAAAOY/sHtStLxtz4I/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520158.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-yAWHp1G_igA/Tew1YjdaBvI/AAAAAAAAAOY/sHtStLxtz4I/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520158.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>As he went to go pull our tent taut he ended up ripping the part off that is supposed to be pinned down. We placed our luggage in that corner to weight it down.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ydwfKrJKv9A/Tew1ZPOV9gI/AAAAAAAAAOg/EKpnUfdHeGI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520160.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ydwfKrJKv9A/Tew1ZPOV9gI/AAAAAAAAAOg/EKpnUfdHeGI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520160.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>It was very very cold, so I tried to keep Charlie on our side of the tent since the door was on the other side and letting in more cold air. He didn't like that so much.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-uc1l3L4NbUw/Tew1Y4RmUuI/AAAAAAAAAOc/1annSpRjnAc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520159.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-uc1l3L4NbUw/Tew1Y4RmUuI/AAAAAAAAAOc/1annSpRjnAc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520159.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The kids and I blew up the air mattresses while Chris unloaded the car, set up the pavilion tent, and finished staking this one down.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-k8qPXhA3nXE/Tew1Z2vaJ5I/AAAAAAAAAOs/pJpA_wW5QnM/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520162.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-k8qPXhA3nXE/Tew1Z2vaJ5I/AAAAAAAAAOs/pJpA_wW5QnM/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520162.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Charlie liked to play with the pump. It was so cold, about 37 degrees, so I was trying to get the bed set up so I could lay down with him and let him sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-znB-ol3-lF8/Tew1aAKqacI/AAAAAAAAAOw/bFxkKuy1Rxs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520163.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-znB-ol3-lF8/Tew1aAKqacI/AAAAAAAAAOw/bFxkKuy1Rxs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520163.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I had three comforters, sweats, and a cap on trying to keep warm. Originally Chris was in our bed the first night, but it was so cold. David wouldn't remain in his sleeping bag and we were afraid he was going to literally freeze, so we pulled him in our bed, but even then he wouldn't stay under the blankets. Chris ended up going to the kids bed to keep an eye on all of them, and sharing a sleeping bag with David to keep him warm. Charlie didn't sleep well that first night. He hates blankets and he kept trying to get out of them and I had to keep pulling him back so he wouldn't freeze.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-s-7ZwOYB6vs/Tew1aVjea9I/AAAAAAAAAO0/Uw9SmKS7COA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520164.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-s-7ZwOYB6vs/Tew1aVjea9I/AAAAAAAAAO0/Uw9SmKS7COA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520164.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The next morning the plan was to wake up and make pancakes and bacon on our campfire cookstove, but the wind was so awful and it was still very cold so we decided to head into town to a local diner and order breakfast. After Breakfast we hit the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/archive/wica/Home.htm">Wind Cave National Park</a>. Here is the original opening to the Cave.</div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Uh3T5PfftAM/Tew1axDj_iI/AAAAAAAAAO8/Mus9e9a3NXQ/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520166.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Uh3T5PfftAM/Tew1axDj_iI/AAAAAAAAAO8/Mus9e9a3NXQ/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520166.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On that day the wind was blowing inward. The day previous it had been blowing outward. Depending on the barometric pressure determined which way the wind blows. The story goes that two Cowboy brothers came upon this hole and when one stuck his head inside his hat blew off. He came back the next day with some townsfolk and when he tried to show them what his hat did, it blew in instead of out. Neither of the brothers ever explored the cave, but that year a young man named <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alvin_McDonald">Alvin McDonald</a> began exploring it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anastasia wasn't fond of the caves, at all. She dragged me, literally, down over 400 stairs and across the cave as fast as she could. We only managed a few pictures. I tried to get a picture of the box work in the cave, this cave holds 95% of the entire worlds boxwork, but it wasn't easy to snap a picture of it.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-RS9MsfyB3lg/Tew1cak_BfI/AAAAAAAAAPU/42lQTdfMceA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520172.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-RS9MsfyB3lg/Tew1cak_BfI/AAAAAAAAAPU/42lQTdfMceA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520172.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>This is a marking of when they mapped the cave back in the 20's </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-GgdwvWcQEGQ/Tew1dLyMWAI/AAAAAAAAAPY/bsFrztQwqMs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520173.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-GgdwvWcQEGQ/Tew1dLyMWAI/AAAAAAAAAPY/bsFrztQwqMs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520173.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After we got out of the caves we were planning on taking a long nature hike but my legs were quite tired and the two younger boys were in desperate need of a nap, so we decided to hit up Crazy Horse instead and let them sleep on the way there.</div><div><br /></div><div>His face was completed in 2001. They have worked on his fingers a bit, and the white chalkish drawing the horses head mapped out.</div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-LRHLvpONhzE/Tew1eE2l9sI/AAAAAAAAAPk/l_ICV-5P4qM/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520176.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-LRHLvpONhzE/Tew1eE2l9sI/AAAAAAAAAPk/l_ICV-5P4qM/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520176.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-dP3D5nBAqYE/Tew1e2XpHmI/AAAAAAAAAPw/bbQXC1o94Vc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520179.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-dP3D5nBAqYE/Tew1e2XpHmI/AAAAAAAAAPw/bbQXC1o94Vc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520179.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>This is what he looked like back in 1993, when I saw him as a young child.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_FPbl2CoOmk/Tew1gALcYlI/AAAAAAAAAQA/y9S9ZpYHqbc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520183.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_FPbl2CoOmk/Tew1gALcYlI/AAAAAAAAAQA/y9S9ZpYHqbc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520183.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>This is what its supposed to look like complete</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DJvVIua3MPQ/Tew1fPdjk7I/AAAAAAAAAP0/fHbHWxWlsTo/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520180.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DJvVIua3MPQ/Tew1fPdjk7I/AAAAAAAAAP0/fHbHWxWlsTo/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520180.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-u4F4saVEFHc/Tew1f7gAuHI/AAAAAAAAAP8/Xn64GLOlbQA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520182.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-u4F4saVEFHc/Tew1f7gAuHI/AAAAAAAAAP8/Xn64GLOlbQA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520182.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The cultural center was amazing. There was so much history in there. Crazy Horse was by far one of our favorite things to see and the kids loved it too. Anastasia bought herself a necklace and a bracelet from the Lakota. (We gave each child $50 spending money)</div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-gwyldo31_uM/Tew1gTLkNvI/AAAAAAAAAQE/Tp1qltZ35to/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520184.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-gwyldo31_uM/Tew1gTLkNvI/AAAAAAAAAQE/Tp1qltZ35to/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520184.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After Crazy Horse we went back to camp and then out to eat dinner. This is what our camp looked like.</div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-e9-GM2yUI94/Tew1jUn2NBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/SsJatq1m-Uo/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520192.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-e9-GM2yUI94/Tew1jUn2NBI/AAAAAAAAAQk/SsJatq1m-Uo/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520192.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div>The pavilion tent was supposed to be so we could have a bug free place to lounge. However, it was left open and became a bug attraction and something out of a horror movie. When Chris first put it up he did it inside out. Made for quite a few laughs.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-LfCP4H5b3JM/Tew1hOPh0GI/AAAAAAAAAQM/N_NA-w2Vv3k/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520186.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-LfCP4H5b3JM/Tew1hOPh0GI/AAAAAAAAAQM/N_NA-w2Vv3k/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520186.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Iyc60Sdjfi4/Tew1g4ybVPI/AAAAAAAAAQI/EyuFVGqCoi0/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520185.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Iyc60Sdjfi4/Tew1g4ybVPI/AAAAAAAAAQI/EyuFVGqCoi0/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520185.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>This is the the area near our campsite. There were three porta-potties near camp, and then a little further away was a bath house. There were places for RV's, and log cabins scattered throughout camp. There were mini playgrounds and a larger one, plus a heated outdoor pool. The view every morning was absolutely gorgeous.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kL1TqNjEdw8/Tew1hSEhlII/AAAAAAAAAQQ/fH12jUfif8s/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520187.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kL1TqNjEdw8/Tew1hSEhlII/AAAAAAAAAQQ/fH12jUfif8s/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520187.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The next morning we took an 1880's train to the town of Keystone. We shopped there for a few hours, and had lunch at an amazing restaurant. The train is the only one left of it's model still running, and every car attached came from the 1880's. It was about an hour long ride and the kids were so excited. Especially David!</div><div><br /></div><div>Here is the train and one of the cars</div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5bn9IFUUGAE/Tew1kSPNDiI/AAAAAAAAAQw/finunrWLOMI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520195.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5bn9IFUUGAE/Tew1kSPNDiI/AAAAAAAAAQw/finunrWLOMI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520195.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div> </div><div>Here is the Engine getting filled with water</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-eNbQaLsg4mQ/Tew1liCasxI/AAAAAAAAARA/okMHG634UIE/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520199.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-eNbQaLsg4mQ/Tew1liCasxI/AAAAAAAAARA/okMHG634UIE/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520199.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The kids waiting to go and me wearing the baby. There were open and closed cars, so we got a closed car there and an open one on the way home.</div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aYYzV7Kiw9c/Tew4iif0UyI/AAAAAAAAARk/buzHg9iBQOw/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520205.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aYYzV7Kiw9c/Tew4iif0UyI/AAAAAAAAARk/buzHg9iBQOw/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520205.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The car was beautifully maintained.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Op73xlNQvOI/Tew4hqxpcXI/AAAAAAAAARc/6vgUARtKzLI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520203.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Op73xlNQvOI/Tew4hqxpcXI/AAAAAAAAARc/6vgUARtKzLI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520203.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>From the window we saw many neat things. This is a telegraph pole that is still standing!</div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U0z7vMs5Z18/Tew4kNT02rI/AAAAAAAAAR4/6MKaQuvdCTA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520209.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-U0z7vMs5Z18/Tew4kNT02rI/AAAAAAAAAR4/6MKaQuvdCTA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520209.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The staff were all dressed in the cutest little train outfits, and the kids absolutely loved it.</div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-SGXitvv1pi0/Tew4kaP0s_I/AAAAAAAAAR8/vSShU8ZFNU4/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520210.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-SGXitvv1pi0/Tew4kaP0s_I/AAAAAAAAAR8/vSShU8ZFNU4/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520210.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And this poor biker kept getting cut off from the train. I felt awful for him! We sat in the caboose and waved at him every time.</div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-mQy9IABC1Sg/Tew4lSOY5oI/AAAAAAAAASM/cr9JDDfNSSc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520214.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-mQy9IABC1Sg/Tew4lSOY5oI/AAAAAAAAASM/cr9JDDfNSSc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520214.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>In Keystone we ate lunch at this amazing restaurant called "The Ruby House". It had tons of historical photos and the staff were dressed like floozys and the like. I loved it.</div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-dU-OvnQRriI/Tew4nFijSDI/AAAAAAAAASc/0K1GMszhepw/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520218.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-dU-OvnQRriI/Tew4nFijSDI/AAAAAAAAASc/0K1GMszhepw/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520218.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TLsW1_JHKr8/Tew4o3zYYqI/AAAAAAAAASw/HSRzGWv0Rxc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520223.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TLsW1_JHKr8/Tew4o3zYYqI/AAAAAAAAASw/HSRzGWv0Rxc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520223.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After lunch we went to some candy shops and got handmade taffy, and fudge and then we checked out an Old Tyme Photo place and had our family pictures done! Perhaps this is why I haven't gotten pregnant yet. We have a system of family photos, and if I had a pregnant one this year it would throw it off. Hopefully this means we'll get knocked up! </div><div><br /></div><div>This is not the one we bought, but I love Anthony in this picture.</div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YJVw6ukkGys/TfAF2pWydAI/AAAAAAAAAS8/xz97irKxEt8/s1600/sepia48.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YJVw6ukkGys/TfAF2pWydAI/AAAAAAAAAS8/xz97irKxEt8/s320/sepia48.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615995171703518210" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We got a CD with all the photo shoots, a copyright release, and the two pictures we chose came in old wooden frames.</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K-mWtgInaZo/TfAF2SkQH5I/AAAAAAAAAS0/Fqi96mAoRsM/s1600/Mizzell%2BFormal.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K-mWtgInaZo/TfAF2SkQH5I/AAAAAAAAAS0/Fqi96mAoRsM/s320/Mizzell%2BFormal.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615995165585973138" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Chris and I did a couples shot too... that one was a lot of fun! Supposedly, I'm only worth $2.</div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rMZ0Wf7iAm4/TfAF1y_TC5I/AAAAAAAAASs/joZFAAUTPEg/s1600/Mizzell%2BBar.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rMZ0Wf7iAm4/TfAF1y_TC5I/AAAAAAAAASs/joZFAAUTPEg/s320/Mizzell%2BBar.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615995157109476242" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>These were pictures from the train ride back.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-L3uWG71oYdM/Tew4sKh91CI/AAAAAAAAATg/i5jkOKEohqs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520234.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-L3uWG71oYdM/Tew4sKh91CI/AAAAAAAAATg/i5jkOKEohqs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520234.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>caught off guard, nursing the baby</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gFldCQx91Vs/Tew4t-W7UDI/AAAAAAAAAT0/aEpEEf7-uNU/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520239.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gFldCQx91Vs/Tew4t-W7UDI/AAAAAAAAAT0/aEpEEf7-uNU/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520239.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-r86sy8befoc/Tew4rPEDenI/AAAAAAAAATQ/yUfQ76U3OoE/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520231.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-r86sy8befoc/Tew4rPEDenI/AAAAAAAAATQ/yUfQ76U3OoE/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520231.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/--XnETkolgEQ/Tew4v_BkEBI/AAAAAAAAAUM/f_12at3UFi8/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520245.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/--XnETkolgEQ/Tew4v_BkEBI/AAAAAAAAAUM/f_12at3UFi8/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520245.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>It was quite chilly and I was trying to keep Charlie warm.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-pGEIkRa441s/Tew4vlDxzfI/AAAAAAAAAUI/7pYd3OqEUXU/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520244.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-pGEIkRa441s/Tew4vlDxzfI/AAAAAAAAAUI/7pYd3OqEUXU/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520244.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The next morning we made pancakes and bacon on the outside cooker. It was really warm that day, about 82 degrees! It was the only really warm day the whole week.</div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't realize how awful my arm looked until this picture. This is the position it's permanently in. It doesn't close, or open much more than this.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SNkoJyFUefU/Tew4wZSteXI/AAAAAAAAAUU/_Y8YJz_E8HI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520247.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SNkoJyFUefU/Tew4wZSteXI/AAAAAAAAAUU/_Y8YJz_E8HI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520247.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OKcqxPIJsUo/Tew4wuyRSWI/AAAAAAAAAUY/N6u_j57oftw/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520248.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OKcqxPIJsUo/Tew4wuyRSWI/AAAAAAAAAUY/N6u_j57oftw/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520248.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-n89eKzVm5nc/Tew4xeKayyI/AAAAAAAAAUk/tDZP-wY2xME/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520250.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-n89eKzVm5nc/Tew4xeKayyI/AAAAAAAAAUk/tDZP-wY2xME/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520250.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After that we went to Story Book Island. The first morning here a sweet lady in the diner we were eating in told us about this place. She thought we'd love it. We did! I got tons and tons of pictures of this place, but it was absolutely massive. I think it's 7 acres of just every single story ever come to life, I loved it as an adult and the kids were in awe. And it was completely free! We just bought ice cream!</div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kMQ65qc4qMU/Tew4zLGOzVI/AAAAAAAAAU4/oxgVV5N_bWA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520255.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kMQ65qc4qMU/Tew4zLGOzVI/AAAAAAAAAU4/oxgVV5N_bWA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520255.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3tfY4hia5mk/Tew4yKOPmQI/AAAAAAAAAUs/N5tU9oqlwCs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520252.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3tfY4hia5mk/Tew4yKOPmQI/AAAAAAAAAUs/N5tU9oqlwCs/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520252.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-gAqetPFMg0A/Tew43iu1QdI/AAAAAAAAAVo/YbdqWBxTTx0/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520267.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-gAqetPFMg0A/Tew43iu1QdI/AAAAAAAAAVo/YbdqWBxTTx0/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520267.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>You can tell how warm it was by Anthony's flushed (not sunburn) face.</div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-_IMG63mi9YY/Tew49E0JxyI/AAAAAAAAAWg/2jlSKnHpYvU/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520281.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-_IMG63mi9YY/Tew49E0JxyI/AAAAAAAAAWg/2jlSKnHpYvU/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520281.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Charlie began running a fever the day before we left. It lasted two days. This is the day David started running one. His lasted two days too.</div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4JdE9pEjWcM/Tew49jqpAxI/AAAAAAAAAWk/a5tt4ORcmcc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520282.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4JdE9pEjWcM/Tew49jqpAxI/AAAAAAAAAWk/a5tt4ORcmcc/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520282.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-kOtojZ1VeQ0/Tew401Khz2I/AAAAAAAAAVM/GGBrZlNdLLg/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520260.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-kOtojZ1VeQ0/Tew401Khz2I/AAAAAAAAAVM/GGBrZlNdLLg/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520260.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-F8Ckh-cVQGs/Tew5OMFcAcI/AAAAAAAAAZk/oPk7LSJoj0M/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520330.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-F8Ckh-cVQGs/Tew5OMFcAcI/AAAAAAAAAZk/oPk7LSJoj0M/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520330.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We would have spent longer there but the kids were HOT so we loaded them up for naps and drove back to Keystone to pick up our pictures and then back to Rapid City to meet Elaine and her family (who were also in town on vacation) for dinner. We went by the Walmart there and then went to the restaurant that they chose. However, there were two in town by the same name and we went to the wrong one (on Elaines orders!) and the right one was right by Walmart! </div><div><br /></div><div>The next day was our last full day there so we went on a nature scenic drive, and then to Mount Rushmore!</div><div><br /></div><div>The scenic drive is called Needles Point, which is obvious why when there are rocks like this everywhere!</div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-K5YNMa2bgNo/Tew5QGvJwmI/AAAAAAAAAaA/xNbJ02O-UAI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520337.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-K5YNMa2bgNo/Tew5QGvJwmI/AAAAAAAAAaA/xNbJ02O-UAI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520337.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Fun fact - the guy who commissioned for Mount Rushmore to be built actually wanted the Needles to be sculpted into Western Hero's like Calamity Jane. The sculptor decided against that and chose Mount Rushmore instead and Presidents for the subject.</div><div><br /></div><div>We met some donkeys, or mules (I can't tell them apart) on the drive. They were very fun. They kept coming up to me and backing off, but they followed me back to the car and poked their heads in at Chris and myself!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jVf4LLVz57w/Tew5UUa5rLI/AAAAAAAAAaw/QoO-CqF1Ws0/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520349.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jVf4LLVz57w/Tew5UUa5rLI/AAAAAAAAAaw/QoO-CqF1Ws0/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520349.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xggtkkH-i10/Tew5W4IcWbI/AAAAAAAAAbI/--mFtou_7wI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520355.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xggtkkH-i10/Tew5W4IcWbI/AAAAAAAAAbI/--mFtou_7wI/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520355.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OxnTXpDjsx8/Tew5X72n3qI/AAAAAAAAAbU/4wmZtA1qTzY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520358.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OxnTXpDjsx8/Tew5X72n3qI/AAAAAAAAAbU/4wmZtA1qTzY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520358.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And this was a Buffalo reserve, and we saw hoards of Buffalo! We think they must be shedding their winter coat.</div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/--hTmChMx-LM/Tew5c9o2PSI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/FQx9bBSAexY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520372.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/--hTmChMx-LM/Tew5c9o2PSI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/FQx9bBSAexY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520372.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MMCc86QVsxU/Tew5b-UvLpI/AAAAAAAAAcE/DyiqtR4QAMg/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520369.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MMCc86QVsxU/Tew5b-UvLpI/AAAAAAAAAcE/DyiqtR4QAMg/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520369.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We were so close to them that we could have reached outside the car and touched them, but there were numerous signs saying that was a bad idea.</div><div><br /></div><div>Driving there </div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xkt_kYascRw/Tew5hUFuwtI/AAAAAAAAAdE/7stLzlD1Tyk/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520384.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xkt_kYascRw/Tew5hUFuwtI/AAAAAAAAAdE/7stLzlD1Tyk/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520384.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>View from the Hall of Flags</div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-yNUZOhZX_P4/Tew5h5bcFTI/AAAAAAAAAdM/KJw5U5OPAIA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520386.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-yNUZOhZX_P4/Tew5h5bcFTI/AAAAAAAAAdM/KJw5U5OPAIA/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520386.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On our Presidential Trail Hike. I always feel bad for Thomas Jefferson and Teddy Roosevelt. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-yl0DO950UcA/Tew5jG04q3I/AAAAAAAAAdY/KGJpd5-u75o/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520389.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-yl0DO950UcA/Tew5jG04q3I/AAAAAAAAAdY/KGJpd5-u75o/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520389.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>My little (and Big) South Carolinians! Minus Charlie who was on me at the time.</div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-R54bpagYG7Q/Tew5iTExASI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/InV3AGrfQAQ/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520387.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-R54bpagYG7Q/Tew5iTExASI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/InV3AGrfQAQ/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520387.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-8h-93JnE-Ak/Tew5ilyFicI/AAAAAAAAAdU/ieO3QOQ04uk/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520388.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-8h-93JnE-Ak/Tew5ilyFicI/AAAAAAAAAdU/ieO3QOQ04uk/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520388.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>What it was supposed to look like</div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-yfABfifdGOY/Tew5o0ghJwI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/9CK6XETB7tk/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520402.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-yfABfifdGOY/Tew5o0ghJwI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/9CK6XETB7tk/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520402.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Family in front of the mountain</div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-sahkW6ZKPg4/Tew5qlnTyvI/AAAAAAAAAes/R1gdEiAcJdg/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520409.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-sahkW6ZKPg4/Tew5qlnTyvI/AAAAAAAAAes/R1gdEiAcJdg/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520409.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-wOqgxxmoYRc/Tew5q49dSuI/AAAAAAAAAew/CVMszon1P48/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520410.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-wOqgxxmoYRc/Tew5q49dSuI/AAAAAAAAAew/CVMszon1P48/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520410.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After Mount Rushmore we went back to the campsite to pack up everything non-essential and went to "The Alpine Inn" for dinner. Amazing food! For dinner there is only one meal for adults - steak, baked potato, wedge salad, and garlic bread. It was so good!</div><div><br /></div><div>On the way home we were going to stop at Wall Drug and Laura Ingalls house in De Smet, but sadly decided against Laura Ingalls as we would have gotten there an hour before close and had to pay $30 and all the "attractions" close an hour before close so they would have been closed. I was very upset, but have been promised a weekend trip there! We did go to Wall Drug and were not very impressed at all, but we ran into Elaine and family coming home from their trip!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-JEDLcIcdvNc/Tew5r066EZI/AAAAAAAAAe8/QHACYiohacY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520413.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-JEDLcIcdvNc/Tew5r066EZI/AAAAAAAAAe8/QHACYiohacY/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520413.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IE8gmyvmILY/Tew5szAWAXI/AAAAAAAAAfI/Dw9moXCZqbg/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520416.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IE8gmyvmILY/Tew5szAWAXI/AAAAAAAAAfI/Dw9moXCZqbg/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520416.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V2GznnYhMS0/Tew5tRdJMyI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/N7pXYyrRBSM/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520418.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V2GznnYhMS0/Tew5tRdJMyI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/N7pXYyrRBSM/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520418.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>This dinosaur sent Anastasia into a full blown panic attack and she flipped out and ran away. The rest of the time there if we mentioned the dinosaur she began screaming and crying. He was a bit scary :)</div><div><br /></div><div>We got home about midnight on Saturday night. It was an amazing trip, even if it was super cold. Loads more has happened since we've gotten home, but thats another post!</div><div><br /></div><div>If you want to see ALL the pictures from the trip they are <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/cjmizzell/June2011FamilyVacationToTheBlackHills?authkey=Gv1sRgCPGGg_b7iuag6AE&feat=directlink">here</a>!</div><div><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-saDGhXGZdrQ/Tew5ubfYwJI/AAAAAAAAAfY/BSlEvwImcNE/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520420.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-saDGhXGZdrQ/Tew5ubfYwJI/AAAAAAAAAfY/BSlEvwImcNE/s640/Family%252520vacation%252520to%252520Black%252520Hills%252520420.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px; " /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1