tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-184324152024-03-07T00:20:31.922-07:00BooferdErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.comBlogger360125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-34547935873190245552018-04-28T21:57:00.003-06:002018-04-28T21:57:55.817-06:00The Unexamined LifeMy name is Erin.<div>
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In 2006, I started a little blog where I posted pictures of my first born daughter, Charlotte. Charlotte was, as all first babies are, novel and unpredictable. But Charlotte was just a little more so, because she was not expected to live long enough to be born.</div>
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Charlotte had a prenatally diagnosed chromosomal abnormality and a typical assortment of ultrasound findings concurrent with this type of random abnormality. And so, a life altering, life affirming adventure began for a 24 year old first time mom and her husband and family. </div>
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I called the blog Booferd (one of Charlotte's many nicknames) or "Developmental Delays" as this seemed to be the most common catch phrase thrown around during those early doctor's appointments. The past several weeks, as I have considered returning to the blog, I have marveled just a little bit regarding those delays, which turned out to an express way to growing up, at least for me. Truly, those delays were what brought me here. </div>
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The story keeps going and gets more and more convoluted, and if you are by chance familiar with our story or this blog, you may recall some of the twists and turns. Ella (surprise!) was born healthy, Charlotte passed away a few months later at age 3 in the PICU where she had spent so many days of her life. The ache for more children was so strong, and we began an IVF journey, which was stalled by our adoption journey, which was stalled by another surprise pregnancy. In 2010, we welcomed Ava, our daughter through adoption, in May, and Lily, our daughter through the traditional means, in October. Lily had the same diagnosis as Charlotte, and despite being born bigger and seemingly healthier than Charlotte, ended up home on hospice fairly quickly where she passed away at 3 months old. </div>
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And that's the story of our family in a nutshell. </div>
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in 2013, after a slow decline, the last entry was posted to this blog. I told people I found the blogging was just for me, it was my therapy, and as my kids got bigger and busier and my heart healed, I just didn't need it anymore. So without explanation or fanfare, I stopped. </div>
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This record of our lives during that time continues to serve a purpose. Sometimes I still get an email from a mom who has been given a weird prenatal diagnosis with no established support group, and they find me by searching weird words like "partial trisomy" or "trigonocephaly." And sometimes I meet someone and they eventually find out some of my past maybe I end up directing them here, for more information. Because it's just too much to hash out. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlotte</td></tr>
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In early spring, 2018, I was busy working in nursing education, and dealing with a 2nd and 3rd grader with very different personalities, talents, academic strengths, etc etc etc, when I found myself reminding myself more and more to take the time to remember the perspective so hard won. Yeah, so no matter how hard we study for spelling tests, one kid still comes home with 40%. So what? I had a kid who couldn't even BREATH without help. We're ok. </div>
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"The unexamined life is not worth living" Socrates said, as the tradition goes. </div>
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So I return to take a look. Not because of an anniversary that deserves a good cry, or to find a picture I know I posted once, but to examine, remember, and apply what I once knew to the life of a mom who finally has that "normal" family, as she knew she always would some day. Because when failed spelling tests start to feel right up with there with failed pulmonary pressure tests, perhaps it's time to step back, and look again and examine that little slice of life and changed everything for us. </div>
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Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-12271716561325615862013-08-06T08:14:00.001-06:002013-08-06T08:36:07.583-06:00It's Summer, Man, Where do we begin?<br />
I like fall the best. But I am focusing very hard on enjoying the moment and not getting overly excited about September when we still have a few precious weeks before school starts and such. This will be the first time I've had both the kids in school, and yes, it's just preschool, but still. Our annual trip to Newport Beach is still kinda "What Summer Means to Me" and once it's over it might as well be Fall. Kinda like once Christmas is over winter becomes nothing but drudgery. However, January and February are awful, horrid months and August...is not.<br />
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These girls love the beach. Ella in particular is a major water baby (water big girl) and can spend all day in the freezing surf begging to have a grown up hold her hand and take her deeper so she can be pummeled and rolled by the big waves and come up gasping and smiling. Ava is happy to be on the warm sand building castles with her cousins and sneaking sips from the adults diet cokes.<br />
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Sand Volcano</div>
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We only spent a week a year in Newport and yet I keep almost typing "I grew up on this beach" which isn't remotely true...I grew up in Utah. Yet my most vivid memories all the way back to toddler hood involves this trip. I could wax poetic and pretend it's because I was born here and the sea calls my name...but really I just like vacation. And cool mornings and walks. And the ocean, although I barely make it all the way in once a year anymore, why does it have to be so frigid!!?</div>
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Anyway, I am so happy to be blessed with the opportunity to let my girls continue the tradition of growing up on the beach...for a few days a year anyway. Already it seems to be as precious to them as it is to me. They bring it up daily and I say "next year, next year. After the fair and Halloween and Christmas and then the terrible winter." And Ava says "I love the winter! I catch the snowflakes on my tongue! Blaaaah!" </div>
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So maybe we will survive it after all. </div>
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-15781545133385042172013-08-04T15:19:00.000-06:002013-08-04T15:19:23.753-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZ97O87d1tdBps1xXwOofb4Bk7gInY558dag6VzINrXbF8T-YvFQDEnk8-IH2-tRvSVYBKcjpjBflNc08LqX7Kg2syHanBceb2nJiORZ4OBRQEdWXFh1SN3EP7pT4q73gEgSJ/s1600/P5051525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZ97O87d1tdBps1xXwOofb4Bk7gInY558dag6VzINrXbF8T-YvFQDEnk8-IH2-tRvSVYBKcjpjBflNc08LqX7Kg2syHanBceb2nJiORZ4OBRQEdWXFh1SN3EP7pT4q73gEgSJ/s320/P5051525.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ella, Ava and I on Ava's birthday. Lily is there too, in utero. </div>
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I have been reading blogs again and such. It's because I am working on my master's project and it has to do with poor prenatal diagnosis and carrying to term, and therefore I'm all involved again. It's been quite emotional, if you must know, and I'm still in the literature review stage. However reading through blogs again reminds me how therapeutic blogging can be, as well as how nice it is to have things written down for the future. Heaven knows my memory is failing, and although Charlotte and Lily are both safe and sound, I have two other little girls who are just beginning their stories. So, just for me, maybe I should try to blog again.<br />
Last time I blogged was in February after Hawaii. Since then we've just been enjoying the summer, dreading the winter, spending time with family and working, both at work and on my degree. The plan is to finish the degree and hopefully start a new job in 2014, maybe one at which I can work from home. We shall see.<br />
We are healthy and happy, and getting healthier. We ran our 4th half marathon a couple weeks ago and Zar beat his best time by 15 minutes and his worst by over an hour, he's become very dedicated to his health and it's great. Sometimes it motivates me, sometimes it exhausts me. This week it's been motivating.<br />
The girls start preschool in a few weeks and when I'm not at work I will have a morning or two a week to myself to run, or to work on my project, according to Zar. Or nap. Maybe blog.<br />
Anyway, I am going to try and check in more often. Now it's in writing.<br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-46951627725646503892013-04-09T20:45:00.003-06:002013-04-09T20:45:34.819-06:00Lily fish<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEX5LLQOoD4_SCovC7uSU4wS9J7PpV_ImEagqk44Ay8zKAhvh2FlFRe9QcK4ZCZ2x3nHiwjkCmokq9XowNu5eS_Pp_G9Qq_io0m7nsVii0FtjbtjjpD41JQZ0nXKdXBDeeu0tsmg/s640/blogger-image-1360556390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEX5LLQOoD4_SCovC7uSU4wS9J7PpV_ImEagqk44Ay8zKAhvh2FlFRe9QcK4ZCZ2x3nHiwjkCmokq9XowNu5eS_Pp_G9Qq_io0m7nsVii0FtjbtjjpD41JQZ0nXKdXBDeeu0tsmg/s640/blogger-image-1360556390.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3_-p4gJAQnbP4ycyUoGeoda763p1Iq2x104tPWWuNIw1Q1awDFmN85tM1A1EacPPBB3bf4JCu8o0Fq_lxEOLw0u_QceppvgV77tSzbe1PLDr0UReTOvsuV4tkDkkn9IzsssFeA/s1600/P1000927.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3_-p4gJAQnbP4ycyUoGeoda763p1Iq2x104tPWWuNIw1Q1awDFmN85tM1A1EacPPBB3bf4JCu8o0Fq_lxEOLw0u_QceppvgV77tSzbe1PLDr0UReTOvsuV4tkDkkn9IzsssFeA/s320/P1000927.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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also, Ella got this fish that reminds me of someone dear. </div>
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Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-5718850717100714812013-04-09T19:39:00.001-06:002013-04-09T19:39:47.812-06:00HawaiiFebruary ended. We went to Hawaii.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rvwuEHluWbCSCMTnMHmM3hquJtL20zc_U5gka0w5EyiaBM6kslrcZxtksE4-nvYOvoPj2ur3qqvpWkfeGRYhAnzVGdhhfvDCo9RKcaEcSVT-sYGEE7-WGIO43TAZ5R8TMJ0YRg/s640/blogger-image-1220780711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rvwuEHluWbCSCMTnMHmM3hquJtL20zc_U5gka0w5EyiaBM6kslrcZxtksE4-nvYOvoPj2ur3qqvpWkfeGRYhAnzVGdhhfvDCo9RKcaEcSVT-sYGEE7-WGIO43TAZ5R8TMJ0YRg/s640/blogger-image-1220780711.jpg" /></a></div>
The last time we were there was in 2005 with 2 week old Charlotte. What an adventure we've lived since then. What a lovely little life we have lived and continue to live.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEogFWixys-o4NAcLhCUrX5pq7YLFURbpbSWB0MzKSZk2FhSH00T9KBFdDyFZAwyZARWkpYgvG4Ztdkmwqcg1ylvYEs61w92Kuk34O31ca_lOXy6sWNKTQIfcfX6qFrm-dK2rKkg/s640/blogger-image-2027715499.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEogFWixys-o4NAcLhCUrX5pq7YLFURbpbSWB0MzKSZk2FhSH00T9KBFdDyFZAwyZARWkpYgvG4Ztdkmwqcg1ylvYEs61w92Kuk34O31ca_lOXy6sWNKTQIfcfX6qFrm-dK2rKkg/s640/blogger-image-2027715499.jpg" /></a>we are happy. </div>
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-1531467590651783882013-02-05T17:32:00.000-07:002013-02-05T17:32:42.503-07:00FebruaryI can't stand February in SLC.<br />
First of all, it's disgusting out. The air is like sludge and huge looming black piles of filthy snow line the roads. Life feels like drudgery and I find a sticky spot in a cupboard and feel like we might as well tear the house down. Hopeless.<br />
I am grateful, each day, that I don't have a little one with severely compromised lungs at home. I remember the guilt and fear of watching a little girl breath brown thick air around her oxygen prongs and I'm grateful that time is over.<br />
My little girls now cough and and their noses run and I say "When it's warm we will go to the park and play in the water! We will go to the beach! We will ride bikes and scooters and swing and go hike in the canyon!" The girls sigh and say "But today can we go to McDonalds?"<br />
Blech. February is terrible.<br />
I imagine my girls in heaven, and think they can't even see us for this smog, but I know that's not true. I know they are near and I think "Yuck, but why would they want to be? I would stay away."<br />
I trudge along on the treadmill in the basement and look at the insulation and the dismantled crib in the corner. I'll feel better after I run, I think. I feel sweaty. Afterwards, cold and clammy.<br />
Every time I walk into work I brace myself for the latest on what I've done wrong. Clocked in a minute early. Clicked the wrong box. I just want to shrug and roll my eyes. I can hardly breath let alone think. Who cares?<br />
It's February 5th and I've had it. What happened to cozy winter? February, that's what.<br />
All I want to do is lay in bed and read. All I want to eat is chocolate. All I want to do is grouse until it's over. So I thought I'd stop in and do just that.<br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-72104335618495257002012-12-11T09:09:00.000-07:002012-12-11T09:44:19.326-07:00Santa Baby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotFQqC5S-lGcRcWeFs9fEpFK1Jbb1TJgEPUHSSMU0QthT5fDgdhDkDfuI7KeMbX_cgQG3303WVfr5PPL9_GBrKver1GGbTfTziqoEaVevppVGirW9Dhua131AW2N_Nu-HzIKJXg/s1600/2012-1301-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotFQqC5S-lGcRcWeFs9fEpFK1Jbb1TJgEPUHSSMU0QthT5fDgdhDkDfuI7KeMbX_cgQG3303WVfr5PPL9_GBrKver1GGbTfTziqoEaVevppVGirW9Dhua131AW2N_Nu-HzIKJXg/s320/2012-1301-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9ktG-uk_QbVW98jrmeN5t07TxrsNV_8pVWscPzyVFK3rGgaylG-HNI7OdNkCUB1-vWGm5P4NP6Mw8jtUJcjwSpcMFcQh3eKvTsmRtM9vWDVl_VqY1oPgu5MkAxVSZXueUP2Djw/s1600/2012-1301-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9ktG-uk_QbVW98jrmeN5t07TxrsNV_8pVWscPzyVFK3rGgaylG-HNI7OdNkCUB1-vWGm5P4NP6Mw8jtUJcjwSpcMFcQh3eKvTsmRtM9vWDVl_VqY1oPgu5MkAxVSZXueUP2Djw/s320/2012-1301-16.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFYLi2S97ubh8apeyO-VzKObXMOhNhyH4-0oUOKh6pqp7XKrwdDpdXawhYh-4hNwAElZ-c9sVf4VmYt_xXZozeteprZz6HpgT9vu7ImFINhZ6oCmEIS5YWgNZO3hCUrq-Ub3nmA/s1600/2012-1301-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFYLi2S97ubh8apeyO-VzKObXMOhNhyH4-0oUOKh6pqp7XKrwdDpdXawhYh-4hNwAElZ-c9sVf4VmYt_xXZozeteprZz6HpgT9vu7ImFINhZ6oCmEIS5YWgNZO3hCUrq-Ub3nmA/s320/2012-1301-10.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
So cute. This years Santa pics turned out quite a bit better than last years. I will post <a href="http://www.booferd.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html">a reminder</a>. And believe it or not, they cost about the same. Sheesh.<br />
Fotoflysanta.com<br />
Also, no build a bear this year. Yick. Who has money for that?! A candy cane and a drive through the lights will do. Ah, more magical memories.<br />
<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-82642547828162778002012-12-10T22:17:00.001-07:002012-12-10T22:17:41.489-07:00Lily's stone<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ptQ4gVmEacIzPaJ_kCyKOpNSPkuJZ5FL1zZQ_3d_pyIDz2nAZ_vcD5dGyhBaPRbVVyLUkMpPpYadObpoDCZY1411TbyPf_h_sdODIXbxSVnfWo4FiHtkn5t4F7JefobE8gRsQw/s640/blogger-image--52630063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ptQ4gVmEacIzPaJ_kCyKOpNSPkuJZ5FL1zZQ_3d_pyIDz2nAZ_vcD5dGyhBaPRbVVyLUkMpPpYadObpoDCZY1411TbyPf_h_sdODIXbxSVnfWo4FiHtkn5t4F7JefobE8gRsQw/s640/blogger-image--52630063.jpg" /></a></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-24575311260190397512012-11-09T21:03:00.001-07:002012-11-09T21:03:31.694-07:00First Big SnowFINALLY I can break out the constant Christmas music. Sheesh. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxkmX9ryuBOYdpkJYWznuzsdUh1oRsbSwIgwkZlsmmMg1SCHYZkOnplxoe1yQpkTimLZwyCAwHORsLqhuxaczU3TADFRdsjVjPcBPhSrDuP857UdaTOg1ZINwKZnLUOWvwIfV3w/s640/blogger-image--1556397753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxkmX9ryuBOYdpkJYWznuzsdUh1oRsbSwIgwkZlsmmMg1SCHYZkOnplxoe1yQpkTimLZwyCAwHORsLqhuxaczU3TADFRdsjVjPcBPhSrDuP857UdaTOg1ZINwKZnLUOWvwIfV3w/s640/blogger-image--1556397753.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwFkZmHz23TKnBg8TzQTaZNkPmY9JUxKL6Uz2piPDlUve7U-IWszaePd8hBlWHW4KvbMb_Auhk0oARkbMCIAinm373wClAMhKUhwCTbwszxBZfpxOKF0Sh8hzRvJqTlg_Gzq1ug/s640/blogger-image--387222767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwFkZmHz23TKnBg8TzQTaZNkPmY9JUxKL6Uz2piPDlUve7U-IWszaePd8hBlWHW4KvbMb_Auhk0oARkbMCIAinm373wClAMhKUhwCTbwszxBZfpxOKF0Sh8hzRvJqTlg_Gzq1ug/s640/blogger-image--387222767.jpg" /></a></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-42035941189595790112012-11-03T09:34:00.001-06:002012-11-03T09:36:57.114-06:00Photobomb<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Oh what darling little girls showing off their new character shirts that Grandma hates so much. Lets snap a photo of this....AHHHHHH! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3O8FyjaRQDpJmd1wSBMJxz4mPBl8uqXJJqFVcmW-2A7Kv2FnEBFfRJv62smrcnGvwlOyjN-3by02L_dypdrbpT7XY5INMIPfv5Quk84CCJqBHiPequzNqfifToTUkhC_x7NvsGg/s640/blogger-image-2101227703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3O8FyjaRQDpJmd1wSBMJxz4mPBl8uqXJJqFVcmW-2A7Kv2FnEBFfRJv62smrcnGvwlOyjN-3by02L_dypdrbpT7XY5INMIPfv5Quk84CCJqBHiPequzNqfifToTUkhC_x7NvsGg/s640/blogger-image-2101227703.jpg" /></a></div>
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-48113240896357842742012-11-01T12:37:00.001-06:002012-11-01T12:37:01.692-06:00Happy Halloween me mateys!<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhESSP9jWYfzAKlxxlBOiG3U1I4aCrbTVXtqKIAtq6KYTXCV_3hABEDv1VqyTD9ec2cJlCAm2rh-UfvXQKY1FEgjoNQKWhgN331KwhtILhmETZwAND_XsGw6MGGs0aghuJCluy9RQ/s640/blogger-image-1415339932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhESSP9jWYfzAKlxxlBOiG3U1I4aCrbTVXtqKIAtq6KYTXCV_3hABEDv1VqyTD9ec2cJlCAm2rh-UfvXQKY1FEgjoNQKWhgN331KwhtILhmETZwAND_XsGw6MGGs0aghuJCluy9RQ/s640/blogger-image-1415339932.jpg" /></a></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-64287704403610524572012-10-30T20:31:00.001-06:002012-10-30T20:50:20.399-06:00HALLOWEEN HALF!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hubs and I did a Halloween Half Marathon on Saturday. We ran in graduation robes and shopko scarves all fancied up with red duct tape.</div>
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Gryffindor forever! </div>
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Originally I was going to be catwoman--easy enough, black running outfit, mask and ears taped to my sunglasses, but then there's the whole "Are you trying to be sexy?" question, and I find going with that theme often leads to a certain level of pathetic. I can only imagine that pathetic-ness is emphasized by 13 miles, runny nose, sweat and smelliness. And the unwelcome but mandatory comparison between catwoman's bottom and mine. So I went with a shapeless black robe. Cozy. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYFJS-Z1HovhgszNXNy_naTqisoCKXf5D_KhxHQLrj33o2uI59hw7p9cHszex3zhkxa1MFnjp6j4Hg_IpXp-yMMnOdomQDt8xQRSAv0CpS0E2jBk62SyzYRg7aevhXzBe8OuHNQ/s640/blogger-image-1703395187.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYFJS-Z1HovhgszNXNy_naTqisoCKXf5D_KhxHQLrj33o2uI59hw7p9cHszex3zhkxa1MFnjp6j4Hg_IpXp-yMMnOdomQDt8xQRSAv0CpS0E2jBk62SyzYRg7aevhXzBe8OuHNQ/s640/blogger-image-1703395187.jpg" /></a></div>
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We were not so well prepared for this one, and they had to change the course due to snow so there was a brief uphill climb which was an unwelcome surprise. I came in at 2:45. But that was running in a full on robe, and in the cold, and not fully trained. So whatevs. Now to actually prepare for our next one in April!</div>
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After the race I recovered with my kid's Halloween party candy, compression socks, coke zero and an ice pack. Can't beat that. </div>
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Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-44131313282645930492012-10-22T15:59:00.001-06:002012-10-22T15:59:35.137-06:00Being ProductiveI start with big plans to clean the whole house and get all the laundry done, and yet stuff just seems to keep piling up on me...<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTZgc6lauCyL_NO73cio6iSLFJv4SV1yiJLWqCtWjYcVB0GTtUIxHFCxxcS0Xp-IdJeEgb3xBA8F2_zHgq-60z944eLnkUmt7Abo0hEeeOtyZak86MQuOJ9Kch6W5qIX6qh9OTg/s640/blogger-image--659427042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTZgc6lauCyL_NO73cio6iSLFJv4SV1yiJLWqCtWjYcVB0GTtUIxHFCxxcS0Xp-IdJeEgb3xBA8F2_zHgq-60z944eLnkUmt7Abo0hEeeOtyZak86MQuOJ9Kch6W5qIX6qh9OTg/s640/blogger-image--659427042.jpg" /></a></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-49997302188532795202012-10-17T11:38:00.001-06:002012-10-17T11:38:33.626-06:00An Excellent Birthday CryI was very blessed this morning in that I was scheduled to work with patients today, and there were no patients. So I got to be alone, in a quiet place where I am comfortable, and have a complete breakdown. It was fantastic. I wasn't at home stressing and freaking out my kids, and I wasn't surrounded by people who want to help but can't stop staring at my nose which doubles in size when I bawl. And I really needed a good sob. It has been a long, long time. Like since right after Lily died. Almost 2 years. Which is crazy because I used to cry A LOT. Especially at work. <br />
I have been increasingly agitated the past week or so as Lily's birthday approached. Her birth day was not very happy. Her life was not very happy. It's no secret that I'm still somewhat haunted by it all. Nothing was wrapped up in neat little bow. You never get over losing a child, but I really haven't gotten over Lily. Not her death, not her life. It's in sharp contrast to Charlotte who is my cheeky little girl in heaven. I miss her, I wish I could squeeze her, but I don't mourn. I don't grieve anymore.<br />
Oh I grieve Lily.<br />
The truth is, in my mind, I didn't try hard enough. In my mind, I remember her sad little self and I remember feeling relief when she died. And I know that's normal. I know feeling that way after the death of someone who has suffered is incredibly normal and okay, and there's no reason to feel guilt. But as time has gone on, sometimes I only remember that relief, and I feel horrible. <br />
This morning I posted her picture on my blog, and on facebook, and started to bawl. The facebook comments started rolling in, and I pushed my phone away and tried to study. Or plan next week's meals. Or maybe go walk the halls. But I couldn't. I was sobbing. <br />
I went back and read her life. I've done it before, I know, but this time I had no distractions except my sobs and I read from the moment she was born to a week after she died. And I've been remembering it wrong. I didn't give up on her. We tried everything. We rushed her to the hospital multiple times a weekend. We were on hospice for heaven's sake. And when she died, I let her. I think that's what haunts me. Should I have rushed her to the ER again? Should I have done CPR at the end? No. Heavens, no. But something about that letting go...I'm having trouble letting go of it. <br />
But I just want to remember this moment, after two hours of sobbing and shaking and wondering if I would ever stop, I'm okay now. I'm sitting in the sun in a quiet room I've known since before any of my kids were born, and I'm okay. I have peace right now. Tomorrow I may question everything again, every move I made during Lily's life, and all this will be complicated by the fact I don't remember much about it...I had two infants and a 2 year old after all...I was exhausted emotionally and physically...and I think that makes me wonder if I did all right by Lily. I think I did. But I can't remember. <br />
I spent Lily's whole life waiting for it to start. I thought "After we transfer. After we get home. After the g-tube. After the meds kick in. After her skin heals. After heart surgery. After all of that...we can start." And it never did. And I feel like I missed it. I feel like I missed out. It's okay. I'm just waiting again. After this life, after I raise my family here, after I watch them grow and I grow old with my husband, after I die. We Can Start. We can start again, Lily. But for now, I have to focus on here. On Ava. On Ella. On teaching, raising, feeding, comforting, disciplining, loving them. But when the time is right, we will start again. And I know Lily is busy too. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMNCSxbb9qdRQBI5whgih0RIcn3z7tJOb0cIpJvp-WrMRusJl86ZbGlITCTfCUbM95uO10JC6VUUm0FABAD6HXFiSZmOIQJzrpgE5pS1oCA5YBRMl1m0bqoBQqbN08CNFzR738A/s1600/LILY5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMNCSxbb9qdRQBI5whgih0RIcn3z7tJOb0cIpJvp-WrMRusJl86ZbGlITCTfCUbM95uO10JC6VUUm0FABAD6HXFiSZmOIQJzrpgE5pS1oCA5YBRMl1m0bqoBQqbN08CNFzR738A/s320/LILY5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Thank goodness I blogged. Thank goodness I have this window into those weeks, where I talk about her baths, her ER visits, her seizures, her sats, her skin, her fauxhawks, her funny cry, her little toy mouse. I may not remember it all that clearly, and that's really what haunts me. But I can read her story, like an uninvolved observer, and say "Yes. That mom did alright." And we will start again, someday. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-793984153682637772012-10-17T08:22:00.001-06:002012-10-17T08:22:12.550-06:00Happy 2nd Birthday Lily<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitdRm4bFvGkvtYciv3fR3Kfua7qyXBrmLEiOH4RjjHK8DTzPx4SwbstshhvlbEaB6VfKohoax7QMSxzCGNmJ-Yr8jV2LM11vEOK1xJDtcEbQOY4eumI9DBIr7O-7nLnLkztM2Riw/s1600/LILY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitdRm4bFvGkvtYciv3fR3Kfua7qyXBrmLEiOH4RjjHK8DTzPx4SwbstshhvlbEaB6VfKohoax7QMSxzCGNmJ-Yr8jV2LM11vEOK1xJDtcEbQOY4eumI9DBIr7O-7nLnLkztM2Riw/s320/LILY.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Sweet Baby Girl. I love you, I miss you, my heart aches to know you.<br />
Till we meet again. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-38748860723557009692012-10-15T18:06:00.001-06:002012-10-15T18:06:44.466-06:00Cast off.The cast comes off. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-sQ8nq6CbglxhWhJQSmB6HYkCeyy2FmbVdQdcrtZmwtJS6JqxVC5QMtSW99eWGZpFmoMkMbCfDHHM5xhtGXNuqr7DyHSiWMddFWgOxqNxsIREBUB_mlwJxsh8YNKRxEpoFEN5g/s640/blogger-image--1196604069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-sQ8nq6CbglxhWhJQSmB6HYkCeyy2FmbVdQdcrtZmwtJS6JqxVC5QMtSW99eWGZpFmoMkMbCfDHHM5xhtGXNuqr7DyHSiWMddFWgOxqNxsIREBUB_mlwJxsh8YNKRxEpoFEN5g/s640/blogger-image--1196604069.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_-tpAhIT9vmNxQXuJk9O61xx92hkKWZ2mKcDptoDvG-FWMr67gfzHTOxfK7i2m8-331rKdWdVbmZKLgEle8QziegkGZy_p4oa9BstbuCmJkbLUfqe3rTip6JQBFMGpWj5RkUuA/s640/blogger-image-1810026748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_-tpAhIT9vmNxQXuJk9O61xx92hkKWZ2mKcDptoDvG-FWMr67gfzHTOxfK7i2m8-331rKdWdVbmZKLgEle8QziegkGZy_p4oa9BstbuCmJkbLUfqe3rTip6JQBFMGpWj5RkUuA/s640/blogger-image-1810026748.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHAF1a5K0RxFW7YCSrXydvk6eav2LyiWYmP74JdKXQlYjZyOOwoqtY-M8xaNG57DwGJhy4iq1fl7dAkZwHrPDtgSEpxEp6i0Von5I-BJ0eo_MLvvpg20KzQGvOJur4Wg3dsOOBg/s640/blogger-image-1593572722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHAF1a5K0RxFW7YCSrXydvk6eav2LyiWYmP74JdKXQlYjZyOOwoqtY-M8xaNG57DwGJhy4iq1fl7dAkZwHrPDtgSEpxEp6i0Von5I-BJ0eo_MLvvpg20KzQGvOJur4Wg3dsOOBg/s640/blogger-image-1593572722.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmPajtqGK3JbUamHaL_aP4vFgmacbUa9x605qqbLYyv0obnilPmusZRNz6iaLTeQk7AZ7PszpvoSuDomk1NOXr4KmTRYUVYAZjKJURkWIB7wHojeFcjGE5s85d16zX-04mr2XCA/s640/blogger-image--1612941101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmPajtqGK3JbUamHaL_aP4vFgmacbUa9x605qqbLYyv0obnilPmusZRNz6iaLTeQk7AZ7PszpvoSuDomk1NOXr4KmTRYUVYAZjKJURkWIB7wHojeFcjGE5s85d16zX-04mr2XCA/s640/blogger-image--1612941101.jpg" /></a></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-303609582732657602012-10-15T18:05:00.001-06:002012-10-15T18:06:58.477-06:00Cast on.The cast goes on...<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjXPQftjyE6bHzvZ2TayNwJrF67qgLM6LrmAkZcDgT6idW555VXra5G32RVtjJZmlfeKZAFFMwM8RebtKrTojZ-x2-vD3JDH4gk2tXxTZxlOefDtYf4gV4o_7Ktx0OiP0f0fScaA/s640/blogger-image-1439494989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjXPQftjyE6bHzvZ2TayNwJrF67qgLM6LrmAkZcDgT6idW555VXra5G32RVtjJZmlfeKZAFFMwM8RebtKrTojZ-x2-vD3JDH4gk2tXxTZxlOefDtYf4gV4o_7Ktx0OiP0f0fScaA/s640/blogger-image-1439494989.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxHqZGw_b9YhhuqecyFjEilbrdwXxkNnNpyryr6GuVC0Q_CdE37TeF1uk0I6CTas5ByWyZMG37a4O_Ba3D_Ms0SkdKFYKPajQiiGVUqmnUTrAaxrbYwq0UX4mgmEBADTXlj7LIGQ/s640/blogger-image-13531350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxHqZGw_b9YhhuqecyFjEilbrdwXxkNnNpyryr6GuVC0Q_CdE37TeF1uk0I6CTas5ByWyZMG37a4O_Ba3D_Ms0SkdKFYKPajQiiGVUqmnUTrAaxrbYwq0UX4mgmEBADTXlj7LIGQ/s640/blogger-image-13531350.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirr6sVBSsPXbhTqUje6Vo-C8DdH6_scRjyp2xCExIiS4EOkPYgi60Z07ZOIp6A_cpkG97uorLG_EYj7oJhWjGWcduXkE3qrC7ntNYPkFHI5cbGMRluHspWFQynihY8zEARUEhekA/s640/blogger-image-1988623188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirr6sVBSsPXbhTqUje6Vo-C8DdH6_scRjyp2xCExIiS4EOkPYgi60Z07ZOIp6A_cpkG97uorLG_EYj7oJhWjGWcduXkE3qrC7ntNYPkFHI5cbGMRluHspWFQynihY8zEARUEhekA/s640/blogger-image-1988623188.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAuV2glx9S_2aE3c2gXKXxvH5_7BrA9RXLAGCH6AsE2Fn9Die-N89x_iyLx7oKcyW-_NtNIWOgzBXs9Qs9JaXt2Wr3QgOWx6IrE0eny6gk62CfsGqBE2Imqs_89_7De8KJkYCrA/s640/blogger-image-230544025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAuV2glx9S_2aE3c2gXKXxvH5_7BrA9RXLAGCH6AsE2Fn9Die-N89x_iyLx7oKcyW-_NtNIWOgzBXs9Qs9JaXt2Wr3QgOWx6IrE0eny6gk62CfsGqBE2Imqs_89_7De8KJkYCrA/s640/blogger-image-230544025.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXsja_OCHqHhts4FI5JyRjgxfTNHG6DyQB3SUQb9Kyc1Q-aPYWZArMWLAhR-S12ZcIAD8FYW87SrzhYSdAMSJD8qBsFZ1jAemZ6Nb6yE3MuGGJZ5x4jlhjevJcNbgvvxAgk3W0UA/s640/blogger-image--27464701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXsja_OCHqHhts4FI5JyRjgxfTNHG6DyQB3SUQb9Kyc1Q-aPYWZArMWLAhR-S12ZcIAD8FYW87SrzhYSdAMSJD8qBsFZ1jAemZ6Nb6yE3MuGGJZ5x4jlhjevJcNbgvvxAgk3W0UA/s640/blogger-image--27464701.jpg" /></a></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-68614010989318764952012-10-12T09:25:00.001-06:002012-10-12T09:25:36.687-06:00Intervention.Let this be the only "stash" I ever discover under my daughter's bed. Amen. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSB_prTTLD7yZ76qHu6wYXPy8_2w-FnYkhfzRr2OphdU6dxYvg6EzpOtbkiulTB6zxzZ2UeFUUJnVXPngpWDcmlNpAKaDgMQxJ6w0R0qXz3nYin-jYNxL0WsrSZ9J_1EleACS8Q/s640/blogger-image-1556428948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSB_prTTLD7yZ76qHu6wYXPy8_2w-FnYkhfzRr2OphdU6dxYvg6EzpOtbkiulTB6zxzZ2UeFUUJnVXPngpWDcmlNpAKaDgMQxJ6w0R0qXz3nYin-jYNxL0WsrSZ9J_1EleACS8Q/s640/blogger-image-1556428948.jpg" /></a></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-87070471059529025992012-10-11T09:56:00.001-06:002012-10-11T09:57:13.499-06:00Testing blogger for iPhone...<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYZghvUIkoQEpJyqYj88M3cOvy3ZyeA1omTwBfN5lKKMjC_RtaIPggCe79j64iAJy5ZGu1pFjilZLPwcYIZ75f7jWYODxX3b_OMla9yqqxO70VOZelr8qOmtNlvjYrjVVtWFQ_w/s640/blogger-image--1050659099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYZghvUIkoQEpJyqYj88M3cOvy3ZyeA1omTwBfN5lKKMjC_RtaIPggCe79j64iAJy5ZGu1pFjilZLPwcYIZ75f7jWYODxX3b_OMla9yqqxO70VOZelr8qOmtNlvjYrjVVtWFQ_w/s640/blogger-image--1050659099.jpg" /></a></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-78586698163048784652012-10-11T09:47:00.001-06:002012-10-11T09:47:32.629-06:00Hello Friends!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtAN_wpxOK-ZMRtXl26iR56MYWCZU4Rinf1TKBgxtRC23DGvbdEowjhkmoJR5_lwOt4kB6k6F-V6L20OqK59_Om9qB502cO9F2X91AZ4AUPxUcfcvDQWzhOJwyfhckBMQ4P479w/s1600/APPLE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtAN_wpxOK-ZMRtXl26iR56MYWCZU4Rinf1TKBgxtRC23DGvbdEowjhkmoJR5_lwOt4kB6k6F-V6L20OqK59_Om9qB502cO9F2X91AZ4AUPxUcfcvDQWzhOJwyfhckBMQ4P479w/s320/APPLE.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I've been playing around with ye olde Blogge this morning. The reasoning being that I am back in school and should be writing a paper on nursing theories and diffusion of innovation, and needed something to use as a procrastinating tool. In a couple of weeks I should be obtaining a brand new personal laptop on which to do schoolwork, so most likely I will be back to active blogging! (when I should be schooling.) Aren't you pumped!? Woot woot!<br />
Now, I know my life has been greatly downgraded in the drama department, which is great for me but not so great for interesting and tragic blogging. BUT I feel my normal, happy, busy life of mormon mom/nurse/student is still worth recording, if only for posterity and my own entertainment. Yes, reading the highs and lows of half marathon training and potty training is not the same as updates on super babies being born and fighting joyfully through their chaotic, terrifying, wonderful, worth every moment lives, but to everything there is a season. And this season is calm. <br />
So if you are still around, feel free to drop in and say hi, visit my nutso kids and I. We are still here, pluggin along, and know you are too. And that's awesome. <br />
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First of all: Happy Birthday to my Dear Ella Bella! Four years old today. This morning Ava announced "Ella has to go to her next party today!" Yes it has been a week. Monday she had a few pals over for cake and a snake hunt in her African Safari themed bash. Wednesday she took donuts to school and had a song sung to her. She confided in me the Target donuts were no good, and she gave hers away. Huh. And today she is enjoying her first ever field trip at preschool with Grandma and Grandpa, then she is going to Arctic Circle for lunch, and tonight she is going to dinner and getting MORE PRESENTS. Including the big one, which is a bike with pedals. (Not a balance bike, which she pointed out is missing pedals and the cheapo one I bought her last Christmas never left the back porch. Hooray.) Also she got a bathrobe she's very proud of. <br />
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School: I'm back in school at Western Governors University getting my Masters of Nursing Education. And we will see where that leads in 2014. <br />
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House: Our house never sold. It's still on the market but...eh. There are currently four town homes for sale on our street, and one is a short sale, and for the same price you can have a stand alone house with a big backyard in the neighborhood. So....eh. The experience has taught me to keep a cleaner home, to make the bed each morning, and organize better. And it's made me realize how much I like our town home with it's unfinished basement for storage and high ceilings and brand new plumbing and big garden tub, and fire sprinkler system and general newness. And I do love my bedroom. I will miss my bedroom when the time comes to leave. But looks like that's still a couple years down the road. Which is fine. </div>
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Running: Next half marathon is October 27. Thank goodness it's downhill. I am not quite so prepared as I was for the last one. I think I will survive, but not with flying colors. </div>
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Fall: I LOVE FALL! It's the best. Enjoying pumpkin patches, cornbellys, my new cozy sweatshirt dress, and preparing to dress as a Pirate Family for Halloween. Ava insists she is going to be Mr. Smee. Hmmm. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIpTfbwQDOS_hC79FI3fDZe0YhXV-H_hoCVRlgEnEDhnUYUDWQBlyh36lcg-zPM3oMoNioV4LJRHHq643uTHs95GajjVoHBmAbL2MOZOGFE3mDdnEBe7oLKzVvu9P1nBqFGflMg/s1600/124722_Mr_Smee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIpTfbwQDOS_hC79FI3fDZe0YhXV-H_hoCVRlgEnEDhnUYUDWQBlyh36lcg-zPM3oMoNioV4LJRHHq643uTHs95GajjVoHBmAbL2MOZOGFE3mDdnEBe7oLKzVvu9P1nBqFGflMg/s200/124722_Mr_Smee.jpg" width="124" /></a></div>
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And now I will really study for a minute. </div>
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Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-24714322974167500152012-10-10T19:08:00.002-06:002012-10-10T19:08:20.541-06:00FATTY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Found a file on my computer at work entited "FATTY" and clicked on it to find this. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlpXQGEx4h2ewAxZFtuS2cjI3348BsnS1pke-GuLmfYAcF5-P8W_MhltJHzHKTFZDHZPnBzwI6Y37COv40eLE8_LfEXpZqUGpQPCpU5huDT1dNmtH12jSQumVGhr1n60r9mPGQIg/s1600/FATY" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlpXQGEx4h2ewAxZFtuS2cjI3348BsnS1pke-GuLmfYAcF5-P8W_MhltJHzHKTFZDHZPnBzwI6Y37COv40eLE8_LfEXpZqUGpQPCpU5huDT1dNmtH12jSQumVGhr1n60r9mPGQIg/s320/FATY" width="320" /></a></div>
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Little Lily Fatty Face just stopping in to wish her big sis a happy Fourth Birthday. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD8r7JmLZ_p25xJDlOYS2FpP8b-cEzZkBp_x3ZRcTdXkP1lDFSzlixqWoGedD3g7321KlaRIWJmIIdQN44q7sX40Uqp6gVx2Fc98J2ruR7rn91dL7MFKbm0lthFGpEdPH6bFxDA/s1600/ellab.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD8r7JmLZ_p25xJDlOYS2FpP8b-cEzZkBp_x3ZRcTdXkP1lDFSzlixqWoGedD3g7321KlaRIWJmIIdQN44q7sX40Uqp6gVx2Fc98J2ruR7rn91dL7MFKbm0lthFGpEdPH6bFxDA/s320/ellab.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-69729311814136307402012-08-18T17:41:00.001-06:002012-08-18T17:41:25.909-06:00I did it!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/08/18/3026.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/08/18/s_3026.jpg' border='0' width='186' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />I completed my first half marathon a few weeks ago and am training for my next one at the end of October! I loved it and finished in 2:19 which I was perfectly pleased with. Around miles 9-11 I was thinking I felt so excellent that maybe I would consider training for a full marathon at some point...by the end I was sure I never would. :) That said I went right home and signed up for another. I think I'm a cool weather, down a canyon type of runner. And again, I'm perfectly pleased with that. <br /><br /><br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-3605141460448469852012-06-26T09:27:00.001-06:002012-06-26T09:27:17.486-06:00A letter to the Bod<br />Dear Bod,<br />Just a quick note to apologize for all you've had to put up over the years, and to say thanks for all you do and for not giving up on me completely. <br />I realize that in the past I've treated you like you were, well...disgusting. From about the time I was 10 or so...heh heh, guess it's been going on awhile. I'm sorry for every time I called you names, or asked you to live on water alone, or asked you to live on ice cream alone, or made you throw up, or just generally didn't appreciate you. <br />I'm sorry for being ashamed of you; for missing out on fun things because I egomaniacally believed anyone cared what I looked like in a swimsuit, or that time I wore JEANS in 8th grade into the pool...what was that?! <br />I'm sorry I didn't believe you were worthy to continue playing soccer past 8th grade; and you were even good at that. I'm sorry I never took you to try outs for track, or cross country, or anything else that would have greatly improved your abilities, health, and my self esteem. Frankly I was embarrassed by you, and thought you were somehow less than. Sorry.<br />Thank you for hanging in there. For climbing mountains with abandon and joy on weekends in high school despite being provided zero nutrition. For getting me through school and night shifts at the hospital. For beating every stomach virus and cold that came your way, and staying robustly healthy throughout every stress and every depressive episode. <br />Thanks for carrying my babies to term in luxuriously padded style, even when the doctors said surely, surely any body would miscarry under the circumstances. Thanks for holding on to those girls with ferocious tenacity, even though we had to go in with scalpels and retractors to get them out. Thanks for recovering from three c-sections with speedy ease so I could spend more time with my babies, especially Lily. Thanks for not exploding before we could get her out. That must've been a struggle, but you saved us both. Thanks for providing AMPLE nutrition for my kids, along with the happy favor of ample boobies, even if just for a few months. That was fun. <br />Thanks, yesterday, for running nine miles and for giving me a few glorious moments of effortless, natural rhythm. Like flying. Before, of course, collapsing back into huffing and puffing. Thanks for making me work for it. And today, thanks for reminding me of those 9 miles with proud and contented soreness. I promise to treat you to a spinach smoothie and a soak in the pool after swimming lessons. <br />So Yes, you tend to require more sleep than average, but at least you enjoy it to it's fullest. And you have no natural love of any food green, and instead crave cookies like air, but at least I've learned to supply both. And you tend towards roundness, except where it counts, and you decided your 20s were a good time to have teenage acne, and you are apparently eating your own thyroid, but I am very proud of you. And grateful. So thanks for putting up with me. I couldn't have done, well, anything without you. <br />Also my husband seems to like you. So thanks.<br />Erin<br /><br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-73029985916889257792012-06-11T15:20:00.004-06:002012-06-11T15:20:55.762-06:00LIKE A BOSS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Biopsied like a Boss</span></div>
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So here's the deal...I'm most likely to blog during the following times:<br />
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*Something happens worth reporting<br />
*My kids have been especially bad and funny<br />
*We've been to Disneyland<br />
*I'm pregnant<br />
*I'm training for a half marathon and ran two horrid miles out in the sun earlier and have at least 6 to go for the day, and my kids are sleeping and I'm all outfitted in my running togs and ready to head down to my parents treadmill but man I just would rather sit in a quiet house with a blanket on my lap and a diet coke.<br />
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So you can probably guess what is going on today. Reminder: I will never be pregnant again.<br />
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I keep getting all fired up to start blogging regularly and then I take a tiny break that somehow stretches into almost a month. Although those videos of The Boof were worth at least a couple weeks worth, don't you agree? So, so dear.<br />
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So here's what's going on in case you are still stopping in from time to time:<br />
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*Training for aforementioned Timpanogos half marathon. If you had told me when we got married, or a year ago, or at Christmas, for that matter, that there would soon come a time that my husband and I would go out for a fun 5 mile run on a Saturday evening with our two children in tow, I would have laughed heartily. I have been frequently re-amazed at how after a couple miles I can just keep plodding along now, at a slow but steady 11-12 minute mile pace, without walking (although some would argue my pace IS walking) and enjoy it. To actually feel like it is a little break from the life and all I have to do is turn my volume up or down as needed, take a chug of water now and again, and wrestle my two year old back into the stroller while she screams at full capacity or run back to retrieve my 3-year old from the top of a slight incline that she feels she cannot ride her scooter down, despite having recently learned to use her break. It's relaxing in a mother-of-two-toddlers way. Like going to work for 8 hours. Or standing alone in the bathroom with the door locked. A mini-break.<br />
Anyway, the marathon is on July 28th, and I'm still on schedule. Although most of my runs have been in the breezy evening air or in the quite chilly basement bedroom-now-gym where I grew up at my parent's house. Today while Ella was at a birthday party I took Ava out for a spin around the neighborhood in punishing 68 degree sunlight, and was ready for death a little two quickly...especially since the run only totaled 2.18 miles. I really, really hate the sun. Why do I hate the sun so much? It's not even heat so much...just blinding hateful sunlight. Hmmm.<br />
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*Thyroid blob. My dental assistant a few weeks ago found a blog on my neck that she thought I should have checked out. She made me feel it and I felt nothing. But I went to the clinic at work dutifully and had the doc there check it. He also didn't feel anything, or least reported that it was "subtle." He ordered an ultrasound anyway, which I hurried up to last Friday after receiving an electric shock from some equipment in a patient's room, a wheelchair ride to the ER, an EKG and a naked all over body search for the exit wound. (none found.) But I made it to my ultrasound on time and the patient's procedure was also completed. Also after thorough inspection of the machine it was quietly returned into service and assumed that my heat-sealing technique was to blame...which I concur with at this point.<br />
Anyway, the doctor called later that day to tell me the blob was on the threshold of needing a biopsy, but really nothing to worry about unless it gets bigger, but in any case come back in a year. And that was that.<br />
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*Just Kidding! The doctor called back on Monday to say someone had changed their mind and would I come for a biopsy. On Thursday. At 10. So despite another grueling patient schedule that day I made it to my biopsy, during which the doctor and I discussed Chick-fil-a, and I got four needles in the thyroid. Five if you count the numbing shot, which you should. However it really wasn't bad at all, I would say receiving an epidural is less painful and an amniocentesis is more painful. So there ya go. Also during the biopsy I found out they really weren't concerned with the blob on the left which I had finally found, but the one on the right which was solid and who knew even existed? Geez. So I got a bandaid on my neck, took the above picture of myself for posterity and went on my way. They called back the next morning so say it wasn't cancer, which no one was really worried about as it's rare even with thyroid blobs, and most of the time easy to cure. But it did look like my thyroid was full of attacking white cells which would point to Hashimoto's thyroiditis, a common autoimmune disease. Very stereotypical middle age woman disease. How disappointing. I may or may not get back to the clinic to have more testing done this afternoon, depends on how long my blog keeps me and if I get to my 6 miles. Darn it!<br />
Anyway, it would explain my crazy woman troubles the past year which I feel should have left me dead blood loss by now, my constant state of frozenness, my blue finger tips and lips, my increasing dopiness and forgetfulness, and the progressing dulling of my formally sharp as a tack wit. And maybe with all this running I really should weigh 20 lbs less. Wouldn't that be a treat?<br />
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*Ella wore a princess dress to a party this morning and LIKED IT. She has always been quite violently against princess dresses. But there ya go. She is still wearing it to show Grandpa E and Aunt Snap later, after having worn it all night as well. (There, I admitted it.) She smells like a grubby toddler but looks like a sweetheart. Not that I am a big supporter or princess culture, nor am I against it. Moderation in all things, right?<br />
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Fine fine, off to the treadmill.<br />
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Erin<br />
<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18432415.post-37181378410266808552012-05-14T15:58:00.001-06:002012-05-14T15:58:10.675-06:00Moms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<strike>The day after</strike> MOTHER'S DAY<br />
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This year it hit home that I have *THREE* amazing mothers who brought my family into being. Other than myself of course. My mother, my husband's mother, and Ava's first mother. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9U9PihlI8Ttf8TqOQcRNAigC0YVG8zC_EVL1uY4HTi2tHOfHgoqByF6_zwcuzNDnyTiTFUsYhDhkXFVc_Qw1eyKfYnbGpk6A5HeX7S9QILrPR2tur7Kl4VH1nwcnMpkWDqT_aGg/s1600/IMG_0791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9U9PihlI8Ttf8TqOQcRNAigC0YVG8zC_EVL1uY4HTi2tHOfHgoqByF6_zwcuzNDnyTiTFUsYhDhkXFVc_Qw1eyKfYnbGpk6A5HeX7S9QILrPR2tur7Kl4VH1nwcnMpkWDqT_aGg/s320/IMG_0791.JPG" width="320" /></a>Oh my sweet little mommy, who during my formative years made her expectations and opinions clear, who drove us all over hell and gone to help us meet our potentials, who was when necessary tough and when required, very tender, who only wanted the best for us even when we were at our worst. Who's love and devotion was never in question, who worried too much, who always waited up, who packed sack lunches into the college years, who supplied a warm, happy, love-filled home even when we were in our brattiest, angriest, most rebellious stages. Our relationship wasn't always perfect, as relationships between teenage girls and their mothers don't tend to be. She didn't want me selling myself short. She believed I could do math when I could not. She wasn't wild about my boyfriend selections for the most part. But now I rely on my mommy more than ever. I talk to her daily. I envy her style. I don't know how she kept the house spotless every day of my life. I drop my kids off with her more often than she'd probably prefer. I can't help but spill all the gossip I have to her, vent over my work frustrations, complain about life in general, cry occasionally. She taught me to love reading, writing, quiet time, and to clean just a little bit every day. (It doesn't work as well for me however.) Happily, I know she's proud of me. I tease her often about how relieved she should be, with how we've all turned out when there were times our futures seemed so perilous. I hope she knows how much I love her and how much I need her. I hope she knows what a incredible, funny, sweet, fun mom she was and is. More fun by the minute, really. As we play family basketball and my siblings and I pick her up and trot her around the court and lift her skirt over her head when she makes a basket, I find myself thinking that truly, family is what matters most and I'm so lucky mine is so awesome. </div>
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My mother in law raised my husband from a shrieking bright red ear-infection prone baby into one of the kindest, most sensitive, hard working, humble and strong men I have ever met. She finds the good in everyone, she smiles through everything. When Charlotte stopped breathing as a 3 month old and we thought it was the end, our room in the ER was in total chaos until she arrived. And then she took little post-ictal wailing, shaking Charlotte and rocked her and hummed and smiled in her face, and Charlotte went to sleep. And we all calmed down, and stopped crying, and sat down, and when Charlotte woke up, she was herself again. That is the effect she has on everyone. Calming. Cheering. She is confident with fatally ill infants and screaming angry toddlers. She is comforting to young couples weeping over an unexpected major trial or just bummed about a little weight gain. She is kind, happy and peaceful. I am so, so lucky to have such a mother-in-law. And it's also cool that I can send my kids to her with too-big pants around their ankles and pick them up dressed in custom altered outfits. </div>
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And dear M. The first mother of my incredibly sweet, feisty, funny, beautiful Ava. M is the bravest woman I know. All she's been through, all she's endured, she is always full of hope, smiles, faith, and optimism. She is beautiful, she is funny, she is so, so smart. And good. She is at once young and wise, a student and a teacher. I am so grateful to have such a woman as part of our family, and I hope and pray Ava will grow up knowing and loving this woman who gave her birth, her beauty, her ancient heritage, and her middle name. </div>
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Happy Mother's Day to all the mommies out there, those who are, those who will be. Now or later, in this world or the next. </div>
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<br /></div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03826866296753999239noreply@blogger.com2