tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-325263782024-03-07T16:16:01.691-05:00The Candrians Down UnderThe CandriansLorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.comBlogger401125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-67183187658093665022016-08-11T09:09:00.000-04:002016-08-11T09:09:55.980-04:00Big 36 Year Old<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The only thing that makes me happier than Ella's pictures is her notes. She doesn't entirely understand why I have this on the wall with the writing face up instead of the lovely picture, but it makes me happy every time I see it, to think that I am her big 36 year old girl. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pp5e2R9X3niNMyoeLK2477-1CycBuzxMCurRX3K8iqo4NBEC_Zqwa6zMftHhh8j2-AWAAJyWSCyiTdEpq7EFlfDuchiMSg12RGpxf16n22csqMzgqdHexxZULt1hsjzpR_sL/s1600/IMG_2311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pp5e2R9X3niNMyoeLK2477-1CycBuzxMCurRX3K8iqo4NBEC_Zqwa6zMftHhh8j2-AWAAJyWSCyiTdEpq7EFlfDuchiMSg12RGpxf16n22csqMzgqdHexxZULt1hsjzpR_sL/s640/IMG_2311.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-hgw6sMGiriPz380QYpI4T_lm3205B5ShCnPsyCnI8qiWaVvFEodkKjjaKXl9LzLmznyq63nlqvIA84CcsZVPEDyCJ8OKP0euymXmk-9GlFtxkvXyWk7WvAcViwRmcXjrlm6/s1600/IMG_2275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-hgw6sMGiriPz380QYpI4T_lm3205B5ShCnPsyCnI8qiWaVvFEodkKjjaKXl9LzLmznyq63nlqvIA84CcsZVPEDyCJ8OKP0euymXmk-9GlFtxkvXyWk7WvAcViwRmcXjrlm6/s640/IMG_2275.JPG" width="480" /></a>I am feeling all grown up with this apple watch I got for my birthday. Was pretty stoked to discover I could take an infinity picture with it combined with my phone. Love. Thirty six fits me nicely.<br />
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-82831064298681595822016-08-09T08:54:00.000-04:002016-08-09T08:55:00.425-04:00Journey Down Under<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been nearly a month since we've gotten to Australia and I'm just now getting to the point that I'm not so fried at the end of the day that I want to do something non-essential, like start my blog up again.<br />
Starting at the beginning of our journey - literally, our journey here. Getting to Australia is no joke. Not to scare anyone off from coming to visit us - it's totally worth it - but here are some numbers:<br />
5:00 pm Saturday - leave for airport<br />
2:00 pm Monday - arrive at hotel in Canberra<br />
16 hours time zone change<br />
29 hours of journey, door to door<br />
3 flights<br />
1 hour at Urgent Care getting diagnosed with strep throat only 1 hour before our journey<br />
3 car seats + 5 backpacks + 7 suitcases + 1 stroller + 3 children + 1 sick adult + 1 healthy adult = NOT a vacation<br />
3 hours of hiding Jake discreetly under a blob of jackets while he slept on the floor before the flight attendants tsk-tsked me and forced us into less comfortable sleeping arrangements<br />
1 missed flight in Sydney<br />
1 time walking away into a corner so that I didn't lose it at my kids or break down crying during the super long and stressful layover in Sydney due to our missed flight and ridiculously long, slow lines<br />
5 Candrians super duper happy to finally arrive in Canberra to start their new adventures!!!<br />
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-65936134155689071732015-04-05T21:35:00.005-04:002015-04-05T22:44:21.394-04:00Jake is One!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here are some tidbits about our family's favorite little guy:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1jKkTgoDeApmXT5atEHaoNe-PZaq9upocKduXgS-42Hw74idBtIThFjsgepb53zWiGfGxxdNC5AD6BdutMwIBscZJGQA31XBvZTyph9pMwLJbUwydVIMkIraeh5RB3ftgQ-N/s1600/IMG_0517.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/AVvXsEim1jKkTgoDeApmXT5atEHaoNe-PZaq9upocKduXgS-42Hw74idBtIThFjsgepb53zWiGfGxxdNC5AD6BdutMwIBscZJGQA31XBvZTyph9pMwLJbUwydVIMkIraeh5RB3ftgQ-N/s1600/IMG_0517.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><span style="text-align: left;">Favorite thing to say: Uh-oh! He says it all day long. There have been many times when he has said other words, understandably enough in context, and then just never says it again. Probably because they are just not as much fun to say as uh-oh.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_7U2h7hEVcTQPuOSC4R4BfrTLfOGcK5Inm6lFLOzIPruOhiFaof_jPwSXRTSSdcEYFCzRwUaqiL5OtZTj1i0DkfslP4xJVKIR8TjGc87M3sX8I1gfUMwVWw-nVojUHrftuje/s1600/IMG_0296.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/AVvXsEhg_7U2h7hEVcTQPuOSC4R4BfrTLfOGcK5Inm6lFLOzIPruOhiFaof_jPwSXRTSSdcEYFCzRwUaqiL5OtZTj1i0DkfslP4xJVKIR8TjGc87M3sX8I1gfUMwVWw-nVojUHrftuje/s1600/IMG_0296.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">He likes to climb under our bar height dining chairs, and then he gets stuck and angry. Our chairs are like the baby equivalent of a chinese finger trap. For a couple months this seemed to be happening several times a day, just kept accidentally trapping himself up under there.</span></div>
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He's a climber. He can already get himself up on the couch, which is worrisome because he has gotten himself up when I wasn't watching and then fallen off.</div>
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Generally, he is really a careful kid.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-OI3wfSvhynuGZ-LXs_2cIktAFKOgRQG6ED_cJY-5K8_mMYFsfpOwv3K-PFz3UF-qKHE2MVA269eZIX2fhM-bFyDHXM2bzEM5kDY54juyZJhZGiEQQf_kSqxksVXucjQOR6pE/s1600/IMG_0465.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/AVvXsEg-OI3wfSvhynuGZ-LXs_2cIktAFKOgRQG6ED_cJY-5K8_mMYFsfpOwv3K-PFz3UF-qKHE2MVA269eZIX2fhM-bFyDHXM2bzEM5kDY54juyZJhZGiEQQf_kSqxksVXucjQOR6pE/s1600/IMG_0465.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><span style="text-align: left;">But not timid. We have a big swing hanging from our tall oak tree, and he likes to go as high as we can get him. He also likes to chase the vacuum. It's pretty cute and funny. He dances when it turns on, as if it is music, and then crawls around after it like a curious cat.</span></div>
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He likes loud noise in general. He bounces up and down when I turn on the blender.<br />
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When he started walking, he was not timid about it at all. Once he took his first step, he just wanted to keep trying all the time. He was terrible at first but the falling never intimidated him. He just wobbled around like a drunken sailor, falling and getting back up over and over again, totally undeterred.</div>
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Weaning him was not an easy process...but now a couple weeks after his first birthday I'm finally on the last leg of that. Jake was really slow to take to solids, just like his siblings, and he would not eat anything until he was about 10.5 months old, and even then not much. And I'm pretty sure I tried everything because I was definitely ready to wean, but he only wanted to nurse. He didn't really start eating decently until a couple weeks before his first birthday. The perfect highlight was how he even rejected eating his birthday cake. Just pushed it away! On the other hand, he loves to eat leaves (oak leaves are his leaf of choice), and this week he sampled mud. It came as no surprise to find out he is now at the 10th percentile for weight. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRtvW9wcTJ3T8iQDBWgEUaVmK2rkfXa30GBfjk1jDnsX1YeAi6ymBs0vOClA3H4ZTz1cmurH2HfkJ0h-0bc2HU6ogjDyzyA7EvAqfWvCKJ9HIXVWXWdnBqgAtV18zll4Kr7MI/s1600/IMG_0307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDys_152ZQIKHC1BbMHRWi8U060ZIR7CRSXj7yxY7P84k8VFgJMS6Btz_z6P0_-nMsEVZyHpbBV0t6ZYIK4xD7Mfh5ryCaYCt34M-Yo49uCFTQEy6aEP6R_0j9c7y0BeNH2jdA/s1600/IMG_0196.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/AVvXsEgDys_152ZQIKHC1BbMHRWi8U060ZIR7CRSXj7yxY7P84k8VFgJMS6Btz_z6P0_-nMsEVZyHpbBV0t6ZYIK4xD7Mfh5ryCaYCt34M-Yo49uCFTQEy6aEP6R_0j9c7y0BeNH2jdA/s1600/IMG_0196.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><br />
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He has an underbite that is totally adorable when he grins. Hopefully it goes away before the dental factor outweighs the adorable factor.<br />
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Michael prays every night in thanks for his "cute adorable buddy Jake". Everyday he wants to sort of wrestle with Jake, which doesn't work out too well and I'm always having to intervene in his "over-loving". </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ella got to him</td></tr>
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Ella is often entertaining Jake and sometimes likes to dress him up. We all adore him. </div>
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He is a terrible sleeper. The worst of our kids, hands down, and it's not like there was a very high bar set by his siblings. I feel like his poor sleep is sort of just a reflection of the crazy year...we skipped all over the place, all over different time zones, all over different homes and hotels, and picked up all sorts of different bugs. It hasn't equated well for his sleep. At least I'll blame it on that in hopes that one of these days he will realize that he is at home, secure in his own bed, he is not sick, he is no longer going to get nursed at night, and he will sleep. Glorious sleep. Wow, that sounds beautiful. Tell me more!</div>
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He has asthma. He has to get a nebulizer treatment everyday as a preventative treatment for when he gets colds that are havoc for his lungs. And he has had a LOT of colds. Asthma runs in my family and I grew up sharing a bed with my sister who was always getting asthma attacks in her sleep. Some were bad enough to send her to the ER room in the middle of the night - which makes it seem more frightening to me when Jake sounds even slightly wheezy at night. Thankfully Rob does not have the same fright of it so I think together we make a good team. And my sister has been a wonderful resource for him!</div>
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Jake hated his first couple nebulizer treatments (you have to keep a mask over the face for 5 - 10 minutes that vaporizes the medicine), but ever since then he has been a total champ...I might even say he likes them. It just highlights what a good-natured, easy-going boy he is. Although I will be happy when I don't have to do this chore anymore, one blessing is how every day it causes us to carve out special time just for Jake. <br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">He loves to be outdoors and gets pretty stoked about trees. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ella got to him</td></tr>
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I really need to purge some emotions by writing this down.<br />
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As some back info, Michael has a swim teacher who grew up in Ashkelon, Israel. Ashkelon is a city right near the border of Gaza, and our swim teacher said he lived only about 7 kilometers away from the border. He says that for him, air-raid sirens and rockets have always just been a part of ordinary life. They face real fighting and attacks there, but he does not worry at all while living in Tel Aviv.<br />
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Up until today, I've felt rather blasé about the missiles coming at Tel Aviv. When we heard the air-raid sirens at our house on Tuesday night, for the first time during this current flare-up, Rob and I just sat on the couch. We were not in the mood to bother getting up, let alone run around grabbing children out of beds, for what we felt was just another siren in the midst of all the sirens we're always hearing - car alarms that falsely go off, home security systems getting tripped, fire alarms tripped by smoke from dinner, etc. Anyway, with the time we spent rolling our eyes at the alarm and contemplating how obnoxious it was going to be to get our kids out of bed, we realized it was probably too late to matter anyway. (For the record, we got a notice later saying that particular siren was - oh, yes - a false alarm.) After the fact, though, I did wonder if despite our nonchalance we should act more prudently. So I started asking everyone what they were doing and found that pretty much everyone I talked to was acting more cautiously, some friends even sleeping in their shelters. Rob and I decided that we would quickly get the kids and go to our safe spot if it happened in the middle of the night. (Daytime prudence was never an issue for me...only when I am trying to sleep. What? A missile directed at my city? Wake me up if it lands on our house.) I do not know exactly how big the different zones are for the sirens, but my guess is a couple miles radius. Since we are at the north end of Tel Aviv, we are at the far reach of the range of the missiles from Gaza and don't get nearly as much activity as south Tel Aviv (which is also generally not a target in the fighting with Gaza except in escalated times like this).<br />
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I talked to some Israelis about it and they said it sounded like we were acting like Israelis...but that, yeah, maybe next time we should take cover. Coming from the locals, it made me take it a little more seriously. I get the sense that Israelis have a hard outer shell when it comes to the fighting, but they take precautions seriously.<br />
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One last thing - there is about thirty to ninety seconds from the time the alarms sound to when the missile could land. So, for me, if I am on my own with my baby, two-year-old, and four-year-old, it isn't too hard if we are all awake and hanging out in the living room. But not so easy if kids are sleeping or we aren't right by a shelter.<br />
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Okay, so here's what happened today. I was at the pool with my kids. Michael was getting a swim lesson, Ella was swimming around basically dead center in the pool, and I was holding Jake when the air-raid siren sounded. I had committed to act quickly and get everyone to a shelter, but I hadn't really thought about how to do that with a baby in my arms and two kids in the pool. I looked at the swim teacher and he was not making a move to do anything, just continuing on with Michael. I asked if he knew exactly where at the Rec. Center the bomb shelter was, expecting him to take the lead with getting Michael over to it while I helped Ella and Jake. He just shook his head and said "they're crazy", and stayed put while Michael and Ella, completely unaware, kept swimming.<br />
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That is when something caught my eye and I looked up and actually saw the missile and the trail of its trajectory in the sky! I was standing there just staring at it and calculating - no, that's not going to land by us. Right? Right?!? Then I saw a second rocket. No, don't think that one will hit us either. Then I felt sick. Calculating whether a rocket is going to hit near you, while simultaneously calculating that you are totally helpless to get all your kids to safety in time if did, is pretty bad for the nerves. Then I saw those two rockets hit each other and explode in the air. The second rocket must have been from the Iron Dome! I felt shaky and tingly, kind of in shock. The sirens were still going so then I was like, Michael, Ella, out of the pool, we're going to play the siren game. (Wheeeee! Yay! Let's go play games in a tiny enclosed space in a basement!) I don't think I mustered a very good game face. By the time we got to the steps to where I assumed the shelter might be, the sirens turned off. <br />
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I thought it was kind of funny that after all the people I talked to making me realize that I should take the sirens more seriously, then I ended up in a situation where I felt totally helpless, with someone who cared even less than I previously had. I think if the teacher had not been someone who grew up in Ashkelon, then maybe he would have gotten the kids out of the pool and I would not have just stood there watching things blow up in the air. I felt helpless and stupid and shocked. About thirty minutes later I really wanted to have a good cry. IBut since I have kids of course I didn't let myself go into that mode. On the flip side, I can't help but feel it's kind of cool that I saw a missile get intercepted by the Iron Dome. Okay, really cool. I never got to see the northern lights when we lived in Sweden, but at least I can say I saw two rockets explode in the sky in Israel!<br />
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Here is what today amounts to for me. I've heard the sirens before. I've heard booms loud enough to rattle our windows. I've seen images on the news and internet. But, those weren't really about war and real people launching real warheads this direction, were they? Not until I saw it with my own two eyes.<br />
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Another funny thing about today is that when I went to the basement of the gazebo-like structure where I figured the bomb shelter would be, I did find a heavy duty bomb door, and it was locked. Classic.*<br />
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As a last side note to anyone who may read this and feel worried about me - please don't worry. Today shook me a bit, but no one even got hurt. What I saw probably shocked me into taking things more seriously now, even though the reality is that we are all pretty safe still here in Tel Aviv. Unless I go for a drive. Drivers here are nuts!<br />
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*post note: Rob found out that the shelter is actually just supposed to be the bathrooms and that the room with the heavy duty door was locked to protect valuables. So I was not actually locked out of the safe room. Although I'd still argue that that room is actually the safest.</div>
Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-76764506778512499482014-06-30T16:39:00.000-04:002014-06-30T16:47:00.337-04:00About Jake<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Jake is such a third child. He is lucky to be born into a busy house with four people to adore him daily. That I am left with little spare time/energy to record everything special about him is a small price to pay for the fact that he gets more people to love him, right? At least that is how the story will go when one day he notices he has about 5% of the mountains of documentation dedicated to his oldest sibling.<br />
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As a newborn, Jake was a very chill little fella. He would even stay calm during middle of the night diaper changes. Even the cold wet wipes on his bare bum didn't phase him.<br />
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I coslept with him for 7 weeks. For the first month he was probably awake more at night than the day, so I was up and down with him all night long. Besides that, when he was sort of sleeping, he was the NOISIEST sleeper ever. So much grunting and meowing and barking and chirping and oinking. But hardly ever a cry during the night. Funny, because he would cry during the day. But at night he did not, even during those diaper changes when he was pooping like 5 times in the middle of the night. He is just so good natured.<br />
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After a couple weeks he started to get pretty fussy, which lasted for the next two months. Then one week he just came out of it like magic. I love when that happens. And now he is back to being our happy, chill little guy.<br />
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Michael calls him a "Likey Boy". He says "Jake, you're a little Likey Boy, huh? Because you just like things." Michael has surprised me with just how much he adores Jake. He loves to tell people about his baby brother. On multiple occasions, Michael has given speeches to complete strangers, like a store cashier, about his adorable baby brother, telling them about his adorable smile and how cute and tiny he is. Michael has even wished to share a bed with Jake so they could snuggle at night. He says he can't wait until Jake is old enough to play with. Once we were driving, Jake was crying, and I said something about how glad I was that this will be our last baby to have to deal with crying in the car. Even through the loud crying, Michael said it made him sad that I said that because he loves having the baby and wishes we could have more and more kids. One of those moments of getting totally schooled by my offspring.<br />
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Jake adores Michael right back and gets overjoyed when he is around. Despite the above story, usually Jake does not cry in the car. Today I dropped Michael off at a friend's house, and as soon as he was gone, Jake started crying. Then on our way back to pick him up, Jake cried the whole way, but magically stopped as soon as Michael got in. Michael sits in the back row so they can see each other. And now I understand the reason behind the fact that Jake cries in the car much less than Michael and Ella did.<br />
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Ella also loves Jake and likes to sing and tell him stories. Sometimes she wants me to put him down, and when I am reading to her she doesn't like him to touch her. But all-in-all, the jealousy issues have been much more mild than I was geared up for. Nothing even close to the crazy jealous behavior Michael had when Ella was a baby.<br />
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I can hardly believe it, but he is starting to suck on the exact same two fingers as Michael and Ella. When Ella chose the same fingers as Michael, I thought it was a cute coincidence. At 2.5 months, I figured she was too young to do something like that intentionally. But a couple weeks ago, Michael was sitting next to Jake with his fingers in his mouth. Jake was studying him intensely, and then he started to work his same fingers into his mouth. He did the same thing a few days later when examining Ella. One thing I have learned more and more with each subsequent child is that they have much, much more going on upstairs than is apparent.<br />
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Jake has a single transverse palmar crease on both hands (one line that goes straight across the palm). The nurse who pointed it out told me "Oh, look, he has a simian crease. That can be an indicator of genetic anomaly, like trisomy 13. But he seems fine, so it's just an interesting feature." Thanks, nurse! For quieting the mind of a fragile new mother. Anyway, clearly he is just fine and I was over any worry quite soon. But, advice to the nurse: if there is an interesting feature on a totally healthy baby, let's not point out it's association to genetic disorders to a mother fresh out of labor, shall we? Now I love his special little crease and love to run my finger along it.<br />
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Sometime within his first week, I laid him down for tummy time on the floor for the first time (or nearly the first?), and almost immediately he rolled over onto his back. I thought it was a funny little accident and put him back on his tummy, and he did it again. Turned out not to be a fluke - even though he doesn't do it every time, he's continued to roll onto his back intermittently since the very beginning.<br />
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For the first couple months, white noise was Magic on him. Truly magic. The first time I tried it he had been crying for a while and I turned on an Ocean Waves sound track. He went from crying to knocked out sleeping within 3 seconds. It was like chloroform. It continued to work like that for several weeks, often with the same immediate effect. It was AWESOME! We downloaded the track onto Rob's iPhone and it rescued us in several car trips.<br />
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I LOVE the miracle blanket and have used it with all my babies. It helps a lot with soothing them and they can't wiggle out. It is a swaddling blanket that is like a straight jacket. Michael was a very wiry baby and even he could not get out of it, so I thought it couldn't be done. But then, at two months, Jake started getting out of it. He seemed to like getting swaddled and I never heard him make even a grunt with getting out. But when I would go in to feed him in the middle of the night and morning, he would have out an arm or two. He's a little Houdini. So I stopped swaddling him at 2.5 months, much earlier than my other two.<br />
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Traveling from Utah to Israel with him stunk about as badly as I thought it would. Nine hours of time zone changes! Blech. Of course he had his first good night of sleep the night before our trip. The flight itself actually wasn't so bad once we finally got into the air and the motion + white noise knocked him out. The hard part is once you are home and you are desperate to sleep but your baby is not. Then I was also worried about all the bad habits I was creating with him out of my desperation to get some sleep.<br />
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He still wakes up twice at night to feed. During the day I often have to feed him every 1 - 2 hours, which seems ridiculous to me for a 3 month old. The problem is that when he is wakeful and hungry, he eats just enough to be satisfied, but then is too social and will not take more. Later, when he does want more he is tired and falls asleep and so again I can't get him to take more. I don't know how we will ever get out of this cycle where I feel like I am nursing him all the time. I have learned by this child not to care too immensely. Pretty sure there will be a time when it will work out rather naturally.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's REALLY into the World Cup right now.</td></tr>
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-16011401329922826282014-06-17T15:19:00.002-04:002014-06-17T15:19:58.798-04:00Father's Day Video<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-15597107392194060772014-05-11T15:37:00.001-04:002014-05-12T01:10:15.165-04:00My Mother<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I recently had the plush existence of <strike>mooching</strike> living with my parents for three months so that I could be in the US to have my baby. Spending regular, everyday moments with my mom, now under the role of a mother myself, renewed my appreciation for what an incredible mother she is.<br />
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My mom is the most patient person I have ever known. That quality, patience, was not passed down in the genes to me. I am mesmerized by how fully she owns it. I even, on occasion, get impatient on her behalf when I think she has every right to lose it. But she is patient with me about that. Anyway, an amazing thing happened when I became a mother. I became patient. My kids have thrown all sorts of tantrums, broken things, soiled things, worn me as thin as a wire from sleep deprivation, etc. Lately I have to get Ella dressed about 5 times in the morning because she keeps deciding something is wrong with every outfit we put on. And the crazy thing is, *most of the time*, I find myself acting like my mother in these situations. It's amazing. She never taught me any of it except by her constant, calm example. I am not a patient person, but because of her, I know how to be patient with my children. It is one of the greatest gifts she has given me. When I do lose my cool, I am acutely aware of how ugly it is. Because of her, I understand intuitively that patience is the best way - and children require so much of it! (Unfortunately, a big difference between my mom and me is that she is patient pretty much ALL the time, and with EVERYONE. If she ever seems ruffled, someone has seriously crossed a line.)<br />
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Another beautiful quality of my mom is how non-judgmental and unimposing she is. I am an extremely independent spirit who quickly butts up against being told to do or be anything other than what I've decided on, so my mother was a match made in heaven for me (both literally and figuratively, I suppose!). I feel that she always gave me a safe, warm, and open environment to be whoever it was that I wanted to be. When I was very young, maybe 5 or 6, I saw my brothers playing baseball and decided I wanted to play baseball also. So she signed me up and let me play on an all-boys team - and my mom is pretty far from being counter-culture like that. She was just supporting what I wanted to do. She never batted an eyelash at my tom-boyishness. She just let me be me. In fact, the only way I can think of in which my mother ever intentionally molded me was when it came to moral issues and in teaching me the gospel of Jesus Christ. She did not compare me to others, did not compare me to siblings, simply did not ever judge. What an incredible gift! I think the only times she did speak up about what I was doing was in issues of morality, spirituality, or safety. And because she reserved judgement for only issues where it mattered, I sensed it and respected it instead of butting up against it as I would naturally be inclined. (Although in matters of physical safety, I know I brought her near to tears with worry on too many occasions, and now I am going to pay for it with a son who is even more reckless than myself....sigh.) And now, even after living with her for three months with my own children, I never once felt judged on any matter involving my own kids or my mothering of them, either.<br />
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Anyway, I could go on for quite some time if it weren't for the three little ones of my own. I just wanted to put in writing a portion of my reflections on what qualities have made my mom such a great mom. What's interesting is that it has nothing to do with anything she has done, but everything to do with who she is. I hope that more of her rubbed off on me while I got to be with her these last three months!<br />
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Happy Mother's Day mom, I love you. </div>
Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-14590087431534178112014-04-07T12:42:00.002-04:002014-04-07T12:42:21.433-04:00Hi Jake<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Jake was born on March 20th. So far he has been a way easier baby then the other two were.<br />
In honor of Jake's birth we got some family pictures. Enjoy.<br />
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Robhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12523594819308397303noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-74172937040369663102014-01-16T16:28:00.000-05:002014-01-17T07:14:31.833-05:00Slow Dance to Three Little Kittens<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm not sure if this video passes as even mildly amusing to others, but Rob and I were in hysterics watching it together.<br />
Yesterday I called Michael and Ella in for lunch and neither responded. I peeked into the sunroom to find them embraced, swaying in perfect unison to the music. Not wanting to ruin the moment, I just sat there and watched the perfect moment from behind the window, trying to stifle my laughter (an impromptu slow dance to Three Little Kittens!) and also almost in tears at the sweetness of it. And then Michael hit repeat and they did it again! By the third round I was willing to risk sneaking a video through the open door, and this is what I caught of their third slow dance together. I'm quite amused at Michael's kisses, Ella wiping them off, and then her perplexed look when she gets pushed away at the end of the dance.<br />
Sweet siblings...<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/830hpb-wNcc" width="560"></iframe></div>
Robhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12523594819308397303noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-37346940670993845752014-01-05T16:38:00.002-05:002014-01-05T16:38:48.936-05:00Winter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Some things we've been up to in the last month or so that we happened to catch on camera (from end of November to today):<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5kpAcgaZxWYnjSv15l9JJI6bJd_VTyrzW7gVZ7KRORDBeWq4dRwBdDVnNUjIRleTwxtellhodQwFov6sdVmZrWywXmWcfiih6Jma7GF58GnUXZiCixjRhMDFCNxqTY9GN1auK/s1600/IMG_0567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5kpAcgaZxWYnjSv15l9JJI6bJd_VTyrzW7gVZ7KRORDBeWq4dRwBdDVnNUjIRleTwxtellhodQwFov6sdVmZrWywXmWcfiih6Jma7GF58GnUXZiCixjRhMDFCNxqTY9GN1auK/s400/IMG_0567.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Church at the Jerusalem Center</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0u6u3LH4BfxnG6RbZrpvAG-Qu6QbCMrjcpKD8SAaiisZnBcBHUm7aauwfH37CDU24onxIwFBH1W775qM4KRSO4Sl3wDk75klzu9yuYIJIqi8UEafb9gkGqoxIjQ_-qgYajgL/s1600/P1030570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0u6u3LH4BfxnG6RbZrpvAG-Qu6QbCMrjcpKD8SAaiisZnBcBHUm7aauwfH37CDU24onxIwFBH1W775qM4KRSO4Sl3wDk75klzu9yuYIJIqi8UEafb9gkGqoxIjQ_-qgYajgL/s400/P1030570.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">At a stalagmite cave in the Jerusalem forest</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_JiTQ1rrk3jEZ_mHHC8lmRne30hToNGMr-QSg-dFaklIJEtolyLaWHjIuCp1C12iRD_25R-ggLqRe_xSYQu5HLiX_6RuyeqGRJtqzSQvvqCor2nAX_B6dzEg1bfCSBZEdXnQD/s1600/IMG_0588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_JiTQ1rrk3jEZ_mHHC8lmRne30hToNGMr-QSg-dFaklIJEtolyLaWHjIuCp1C12iRD_25R-ggLqRe_xSYQu5HLiX_6RuyeqGRJtqzSQvvqCor2nAX_B6dzEg1bfCSBZEdXnQD/s400/IMG_0588.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">I should have known better than to think we could decorate gingerbread houses and expect that the kids could wrap their mind around keeping them as a decoration. </td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTLhmz0njKUqWVLud1awGKFm5Qzs2KCllVhIvcVwHZi7modvPD7R1-87_rGtp66e8V0XBxR8mB2KeCGsE9oPhrc6UriEA-1-dKvW6qzBoigb6P3pFUv_k8plFFJ-knQ6wKEMq/s1600/IMG_0593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTLhmz0njKUqWVLud1awGKFm5Qzs2KCllVhIvcVwHZi7modvPD7R1-87_rGtp66e8V0XBxR8mB2KeCGsE9oPhrc6UriEA-1-dKvW6qzBoigb6P3pFUv_k8plFFJ-knQ6wKEMq/s400/IMG_0593.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Michael was pretty proud of the decoy (pillows under the covers) he fooled me with during our game of hide-and-seek.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDCV0kjVlRqD9hm8RG-QNlWsazgpOk3nI20JC7LVPvCustsr45q6dDp-wJoifiuihQffVAKelRPuU_a7uRZWrrpcA3Idr1K1MWman56n5SyVqgNTaqMCgt13jNYuVtBhT7OHv/s1600/P1030583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDCV0kjVlRqD9hm8RG-QNlWsazgpOk3nI20JC7LVPvCustsr45q6dDp-wJoifiuihQffVAKelRPuU_a7uRZWrrpcA3Idr1K1MWman56n5SyVqgNTaqMCgt13jNYuVtBhT7OHv/s400/P1030583.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">We all love the massage table. The kids think feeding each other through the head hole is soooo much fun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">London trip - Rob took Michael to a Premiere League soccer game.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-Oszqlo3lAq0E4T8qoPC55k9jP01ujNlE8TUUihrJDTzFSHRYGlhWZVEVasUzLd4lFqAZkLNvHDilxlkOFfePoMU1-Up-LqLmMcnxdcgMIxrgEORsUUFYK0HMp9u0rSWql9F/s1600/P1030598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-Oszqlo3lAq0E4T8qoPC55k9jP01ujNlE8TUUihrJDTzFSHRYGlhWZVEVasUzLd4lFqAZkLNvHDilxlkOFfePoMU1-Up-LqLmMcnxdcgMIxrgEORsUUFYK0HMp9u0rSWql9F/s400/P1030598.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="text-align: left;">While Rob and Michael were at the soccer game, I thought I would have some special time with Ella. But all she wanted to do was sit in her stroller holding her balloon while we listened to music. She kept wanting to sit there for at least a half hour. I ended up reading a book. After a child like Michael who craves constant attention, her independence confounds me. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDhuA1d1z5KwaQo08xD5VQxSufs8A0nuNaTrqGGrEGbE2e_hHwtoiO7QBoQVPXHp6A9ITilIUxE1xJawr-IEF1U3Wk1sDTFOw8_YZBtfOMkpPWztEY9Be_bgfbAO1YpIOdRSV/s1600/IMG_0619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDhuA1d1z5KwaQo08xD5VQxSufs8A0nuNaTrqGGrEGbE2e_hHwtoiO7QBoQVPXHp6A9ITilIUxE1xJawr-IEF1U3Wk1sDTFOw8_YZBtfOMkpPWztEY9Be_bgfbAO1YpIOdRSV/s400/IMG_0619.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="text-align: left;"> Rob and I at our annual date to the Nutcracker, this time in a London theater, where we celebrate one of our first dates ever. I think back to each year we go as a snapshot in our life together. This year this picture reminds me of our trip to London to get a taste of Christmas while living in a non-Christian country. My lack of fanciness and jewelry will remind me of having two young children who timed epic tantrums perfectly so that I would not have time for such niceties like dressing up, plus a big pregnant belly so that I cannot fit into any of my nicer dresses. I get teary-eyed at least once every performance, thinking of all these snapshots over the years since the one we fell in love. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmufR264Z1Tzo9hpGcHNVDA4RO7thivxYTWR_mTuMVWq2sVEUzknwkTn-onP96AcjgjKq0sDmCfVBFoD2-yPt3ULJceWTxzU-tP-kWbiTMDVzAfvHjbft1-42oakgO4ai4kudE/s1600/P1030615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmufR264Z1Tzo9hpGcHNVDA4RO7thivxYTWR_mTuMVWq2sVEUzknwkTn-onP96AcjgjKq0sDmCfVBFoD2-yPt3ULJceWTxzU-tP-kWbiTMDVzAfvHjbft1-42oakgO4ai4kudE/s400/P1030615.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="text-align: left;">Buckingham Palace </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQUwHzNLFXeLgo1kYUesXfBHh5mmgXaQrZrOauhodfaqbG9g0seB9zWyHOyf09tJ5ALZKNJJyO_1n4NNfT4cu_2X_mt3SRK2lbmCCb4splfn8lQXIutYCdIGdaU8DwhFRukQa6/s1600/P1030618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQUwHzNLFXeLgo1kYUesXfBHh5mmgXaQrZrOauhodfaqbG9g0seB9zWyHOyf09tJ5ALZKNJJyO_1n4NNfT4cu_2X_mt3SRK2lbmCCb4splfn8lQXIutYCdIGdaU8DwhFRukQa6/s400/P1030618.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The Tube - Cousin Preston, Ella and Michael</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKki2TWcIY_iuZ6gNnU0UFlyzxXNt3Myxy0XUC1E03alvzaN7XbBUXBZEOzvybRlPbMP2w77DwnVDLC1xtqNs5g31xot1NE8sIe5Rzs_sDJfff36M4SWHO2o-nkVPs8MdnDuU/s1600/P1030632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKki2TWcIY_iuZ6gNnU0UFlyzxXNt3Myxy0XUC1E03alvzaN7XbBUXBZEOzvybRlPbMP2w77DwnVDLC1xtqNs5g31xot1NE8sIe5Rzs_sDJfff36M4SWHO2o-nkVPs8MdnDuU/s400/P1030632.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Fascinated by the trains. Michael still practically has the Picadilly Line memorized.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Michael's Christmas jersey</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrM9WidvPaC2nklzpTbRuVO4gixTsf3A2KRc0PG9Q6yN9xPBHAWs7EUHHmecQH7aj6QCCcP-EhtRt6isQ8p2-O_kEXQPg-YumcdV2isuF2vwPwGs-X9c6HQ6IKuF01d9kclGr/s1600/P1030640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrM9WidvPaC2nklzpTbRuVO4gixTsf3A2KRc0PG9Q6yN9xPBHAWs7EUHHmecQH7aj6QCCcP-EhtRt6isQ8p2-O_kEXQPg-YumcdV2isuF2vwPwGs-X9c6HQ6IKuF01d9kclGr/s400/P1030640.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">New Year's Eve celebration. Most Israeli's don't celebrate the western calendar new year, so we came up with our own celebration. I happened to find some unused bottle rockets on the beach several months ago, and sparklers can be bought at the grocery store year round here. So we lit some stuff at the beach with the kids, had them in bed by 9:00 and called it good. </td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WFtjS1e2c0PKrYZ2P4SStlmTXOuJ8X-aVzrZfT0Wwl3flIdc1KUuqLXkHIeTeulHbhY6zL257d4rngqwA3l1DpNT15PrJLCnncf7WaRLLKleNhptEEbgAPRt42Ei0bCGcnCu/s1600/G0010054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WFtjS1e2c0PKrYZ2P4SStlmTXOuJ8X-aVzrZfT0Wwl3flIdc1KUuqLXkHIeTeulHbhY6zL257d4rngqwA3l1DpNT15PrJLCnncf7WaRLLKleNhptEEbgAPRt42Ei0bCGcnCu/s400/G0010054.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Today. A beautiful beach day in January. My favorite thing about Israel. The water is a little cold, but Ella really wanted to put on her swimsuit and go on the surfboard with Rob anyway.</td></tr>
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A funny note from tonight:<br />
Ella was playing with her dolls and I heard her making smacking noises all over them. I was thinking she was doing some sort of funny kisses, but then she looked up and said "Mom, I'm a predator. I eat animals and babies."<br />
Later she put the baby dolls on a tray and was sliding them under a chair. She informed me that she was baking them in the oven.<br />
She's fooling us all with her sweetness!</div>
Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-6785395574963199422013-11-25T15:28:00.000-05:002013-11-25T15:39:15.258-05:0010 things about my kids<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A list of 10 things about my life with my kids lately, just because I'm in the mood...<br />
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Ella, 2 yrs 4 mths:<br />
1. In the last couple weeks, Ella has grown up by about a year. She started refusing her booster seat/tray table at the dinner table, she potty trained, and she is no longer in a crib. I did NOT intend to tackle all these things at once - she suddenly became too cool for a booster seat at the same time that I realized that I must potty train her NOW (our life will be turned upside down in a couple months between long-term traveling, having a baby, and then an international move...so I felt it was now or never). At which time she started trying to climb out of her crib for the first time ever and it became a matter of safety to turn it into a toddler bed. <br />
So suddenly there was a circus act to deal with getting her to stay in her seat at meal times, stay in bed at bedtime, and getting her to use the potty - all at once. Fun times.<br />
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2. She will pull her pants down to her ankles as soon as she realizes she wants to go pee - then waddle like that across the house to get to the bathroom. So cute. She also keeps putting her head into the toilet when she watches it flush. Gross. I'm having a hard time convincing her to change her ways.<br />
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3. Long story short - I got an unexpected ring on the doorbell last week. Someone was calling for me from over our fence (our whole property is fenced in to the sidewalk), asking if this was my little girl. I opened to the front gate to find Ella waddling around the sidewalk next to the busy street - WITH HER PANTS DOWN AROUND HER ANKLES. Oh. My! I was so grateful for that stranger (and grateful it was a stranger...if you know what I mean). Ella was happy as a lark and said she just wanted to go look at our friend's car. Neither of my kids has ever even flirted with going out our front gate until that day, so I was utterly surprised. Now it is on lock-down from the inside, too. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNl0vj-85GVQ07dOK7jm_Ib2BRb-pxMIdX01EHwvvco6C8S3oOHLrG1XgkEovl1vg1r6B_Oq_F50I-FYeyNooRyNgFFnNluHEG2iCF_WcORqDIObgmWsHFBtDmGlqlakUmd34/s1600/G0020030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNl0vj-85GVQ07dOK7jm_Ib2BRb-pxMIdX01EHwvvco6C8S3oOHLrG1XgkEovl1vg1r6B_Oq_F50I-FYeyNooRyNgFFnNluHEG2iCF_WcORqDIObgmWsHFBtDmGlqlakUmd34/s320/G0020030.JPG" width="320" /></a>4. When she decided she had to pee while we were at the park, she just started running waaaaaaaaaay out in the distance to the bathroom all by herself, until she was quite far away and I realized what was going on and ran over to her. She is such an independent, free spirit. <br />
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5. I stepped on something sharp at the beach and let out a yelp when it got stuck in my toe. Ella was immediately by my side, hugging me and sweetly telling me everything was going to be okay and that "in five minutes it will be all better". She was so concerned and so nurturing. She stroked my face and made everything peaceful like she's a mom herself.<br />
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6. When I show the slightest sign of irritation, she says "But mom, why are you furious?". I have no idea where she came up with that choice of words. Tonight I was irritated that she came out of her room after we'd put her to bed, and she said "Mom, but why are you infurious? It'll all be okay. Oooooh, you should just be happy. It's all alright.", as she gently stroked my arm, making me wonder how in the world such a sweet creature could ever cause me frustration. <br />
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7. She is learning stalling techniques at bedtime. She calls us back into her room for questions like "What do animals eat?" and "What is Willy Wonka doing right now?" and "Mommy, are you mommy?". <br />
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8. She loves to go grocery shopping with me and is the most perfectly behaved little angel every second we are in the store. Shopping used to be the activity I did solo on the weekend while Rob watched the kids, until she started requesting to come. It's like she instinctively knows it is a special privilege not to be messed with, so she is perfection in the store.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0BaWpORm3qiUQV5xyw6JMzhBomKqEp1EcnZR3dcQ5EkTanGTlh1-YaGt5Z0rZ_3ofR_oY2kGti4cd5wLa2FpWKOqCYT9Fd15jaXeGiuI1QJhjKp84jmURMDmbxDPgH0j4YYBF/s1600/P1030468.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/AVvXsEg0BaWpORm3qiUQV5xyw6JMzhBomKqEp1EcnZR3dcQ5EkTanGTlh1-YaGt5Z0rZ_3ofR_oY2kGti4cd5wLa2FpWKOqCYT9Fd15jaXeGiuI1QJhjKp84jmURMDmbxDPgH0j4YYBF/s320/P1030468.JPG" width="320" /></a>9. Every time I put her in bed, she barrages me with a chorus of "Goodnight mommy, I love you, I love you three, I love you infinity, I love you, good night..." - the whole script repeated like a broken record anywhere from two to ten times in her squeaky sweet voice. Even though it is utterly adorable, sometimes I have a hard time listening to it ten times before I am allowed to shut the door when it happens to be after a middle of the night visit.<br />
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10. She is my imaginative child, and almost always caught up in her world of make-believe. She designates new favorite friends often, and it can be a cat puzzle piece or an elephant magnet just as easily as a stuffed animal or doll. Her bed is often full of puzzle pieces, pictures, magnets, dolls and stuffed animals. <br />
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Michael, 4 yrs 2 mths:<br />
1. He still has the compulsion to get completely nude - socks off and all - whenever he has to do his business. (Is that mean to blog? It's just kind of funny.)<br />
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2. He loves games. He wants games, games, games, all the time. He eats up all the math games I make up for him and I revel in the way he lights up and asks for more. I love sharing my love of numbers and my love of games with him. When I was a kid, I used to love making up games and making my little brother play them with me. So I love that he loves games also. (Unless it is Chutes and Ladders or Candyland, in which case I want to hide when he pulls them out. I pretty much always cheat with arranging the cards so that we pick some good ones early on and get it over with faster.)<br />
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3. In the last month he is starting to show initiative with helping out around the house more, loving to help set the table, dust, sweep, etc. Which is wonderful and terrifying at the same time. It isn't always easy to let kids "help" when it takes so much more time and energy than doing it myself. I have to paste a smile on my face when I am sweeping and he goes to grab his own broom. At the same time, he is getting better and better and it is absolutely astonishing to think that my baby will soon truly be <i>contributing</i> to an orderly house. Nah...could that really be?<br />
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4. He loves to perform. We had a primary program in sacrament meeting at church last month and he was a ham, clearing his throat and reading some of his lines in a silly way. He asks every week now when he will get to perform again. Not a shy bone in his body. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3vRQdbb-QqcNHZJasfjcsGTjxt4fKi_lIckNUJi1j9q2e7-TbVJvJEtvZn7DgRy_pt0lCGriCgMiMXWQvp_Z6BEXGJxtp4NFz84mBAHhs9JhGdAGeDAE2hrTyl4pxDnsd0LLL/s1600/GOPR0020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3vRQdbb-QqcNHZJasfjcsGTjxt4fKi_lIckNUJi1j9q2e7-TbVJvJEtvZn7DgRy_pt0lCGriCgMiMXWQvp_Z6BEXGJxtp4NFz84mBAHhs9JhGdAGeDAE2hrTyl4pxDnsd0LLL/s320/GOPR0020.JPG" width="274" /></a>5. He likes to rate everything on a scale of one to ten. He handed out an 11 for the first time to a friend's house who has an arcade. He told me that I should build one for him, and said "if I had one then I would play it every minute of every day. Can we get one, please?" Poor kid put the nail in his own coffin with that statement. He obviously hasn't yet learned the subtle art of negotiation.<br />
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6. He still goes wild when we go to the beach and rolls around in the sand like a madman.<br />
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7. He loves us to read chapter books to him before nap and bedtime, which has made reading to him so much more fun. We recently read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory twice because as soon as we were done the first time, he immediately wanted to read it again. It was so much fun to reread this childhood favorite with him and watch the movie together. It is so much more fun to be the mother of a four year old than a baby. I think I would have been better off when Michael was a baby if I'd had four-year-old Michael with me then also. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXOgLVK2CqFLnncl6xuV5yL_chi3vTN9Pjylu1pbi3p9eB2DcPoVCfKVsUhzDWQIXVIaeWd_SMY0vvRss0KPj78zZYbiQVHoLBxvwygRd9OYBUnwRsT_da3B20uf9BnshW-tQ/s1600/P1030463.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/AVvXsEhHXOgLVK2CqFLnncl6xuV5yL_chi3vTN9Pjylu1pbi3p9eB2DcPoVCfKVsUhzDWQIXVIaeWd_SMY0vvRss0KPj78zZYbiQVHoLBxvwygRd9OYBUnwRsT_da3B20uf9BnshW-tQ/s320/P1030463.JPG" width="320" /></a>8. He still sucks his fingers, snuggles his bearsuit, and wears a diaper at night. There is a pretty stark contrast of how old he acts in some ways compared to things that haven't changed since he was a baby. I've tried a lot of different things with the night peeing and haven't had much success. I haven't even begun to try to get him to stop the finger sucking at night because it feels impossible and I dread it.<br />
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9. When he dances, he is all over the floor like a break dancer.<br />
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10. He is fearless on his bike. There was a high curb with a little chip in it, which he decided to treat like a ramp (not even close) and tried to ram his bike right up it. Of course he crashed, but he didn't really seem all that deterred. He is going to be a blast to take mountain biking in a couple years.<br />
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-89511764629867782042013-11-06T08:28:00.002-05:002013-11-06T08:32:27.293-05:00November Rain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Rain is so much more fun when it can run down your bare skin and feel good. I so love our warm climate. My kids love playing in their rain boots and were so stoked for actual rain to play in with them. These pictures remind me so much of my own childhood in southern California.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing to do with this post. Fairy Ella.</td></tr>
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-86472557081072510832013-10-31T10:09:00.001-04:002013-10-31T10:14:01.564-04:00Dancing Robot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm pretty sure it was nearly a year ago that Michael saw a picture of Rob and I in robot costumes and decided he wanted to be a robot for Halloween. Month after month he has kept this idea in his mind and not wavered an iota in his desire to be a robot - which is fascinating to me considering how whimsical and fleeting most ideas from 3 and 4 year olds tend to be.<br />
Naturally, Ella wanted to be a robot, too. She also wanted to be a butterfly. And the beauty of homemade costumes is that I could make that happen.<br />
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The costumes are semi-complete because I didn't think the kids would fare to well in a bulky headpiece. My favorite thing about Ella's costume was that once we added the light to the control panel up front, it lit up a green circle on the ground about a foot in front of her. She kept trying to step on it as we walked around, and it really kept her moving! I think that is the fastest, most decisive walking she has ever done. So I'm now considering taping it to her shirt anytime we walk somewhere. <br />
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Michael got his dance button pressed a lot this night, and he performed almost every time. It was awesome!<br />
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<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/-0_WbVLFRZI/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-0_WbVLFRZI?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-0_WbVLFRZI?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
Sideways video....ooops. I thought I could rotate it but can't figure it out. Ella's tagline as a robot is "I am a robot, you have pretty eyes!". She got it from a book about a kid who dresses up as a robot. I think she's got the robot voice nailed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Showing off his rocket boosters</td></tr>
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Robhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12523594819308397303noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-23231269575114321412013-10-15T14:51:00.003-04:002013-10-15T14:51:51.690-04:00Girls With Guns<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We took a road trip to the Golan Heights, at Israel's northern boarder, to check out Banias Falls<br />
and Nimrod's Fortress.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sneak photos of girls with guns</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The hike was beautiful and fun, and exploring the tremendous Nimrod's fortress (from the 1200's) brought out our inner Indiana Jones. But the most memorable part was all the young adults (although 18 yr olds look like kids to me now) casually hiking around with rifles. Big groups, all dressed casually in civilian clothes, texting on their phones, listening to ipods and playing around...with huge weapons hanging from some of their shoulders like a mere accessory. We asked someone why they would carry rifles on a casual outing to the waterfall, but his vague response was sort of like, why wouldn't they? The obvious guess is that they were <strike>kids</strike> young adults in the military...but it still seemed funny for a just-for-kicks trip to a nature reserve. (At least the guns were not loaded.) The area is right on the boarder of Lebanon and Syria, and at times during our trip we could hear loud blasts echo through the canyon from beyond the boarder, just a few miles away. It was a surreal reminder of what is other people's reality, day-in, day-out, just on the other side of the mountain. And a peek into the crazy things to which people right there where we were are accustomed. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4Xrr2iAQJM4GAjDavbYVB_Ld87Q_HaIjQpqgKxlXSyKpUpccH8zhdW9olr3ILTDcdmLzvyNTVu4kbgCpZNDmyF7P5ni7vxFygZa_4qy6VNcJEgJOq7NmD2bVTBIPCFlw7Q8t/s1600/P1030508.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4Xrr2iAQJM4GAjDavbYVB_Ld87Q_HaIjQpqgKxlXSyKpUpccH8zhdW9olr3ILTDcdmLzvyNTVu4kbgCpZNDmyF7P5ni7vxFygZa_4qy6VNcJEgJOq7NmD2bVTBIPCFlw7Q8t/s400/P1030508.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFxifAe40GNFDE_2NUnhL_99DFynRmk9BaDyep8acgouVUI92bBsnsIrXHOkR1HCs2aKPGVuq90sQIJEWaamwa1TnJ0XrLzOINRJmqOjGcQWrxHx39BlPCQhHZevTKJP_tAgBQ/s1600/P1030507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFxifAe40GNFDE_2NUnhL_99DFynRmk9BaDyep8acgouVUI92bBsnsIrXHOkR1HCs2aKPGVuq90sQIJEWaamwa1TnJ0XrLzOINRJmqOjGcQWrxHx39BlPCQhHZevTKJP_tAgBQ/s400/P1030507.jpg" width="290" /></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring a tower of Nimrod's Fortress</td></tr>
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-70272009937474634242013-10-06T16:20:00.000-04:002013-10-06T16:20:02.318-04:00Sensory Table<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A couple months ago, I found a good deal on a tall coffee table from Ikea and decided to make it into a sensory table. I finally had a good excuse to use our round power saw (is that what it is even called?) and I'd say that cutting up a table with a power tool was definitely the most fun I've ever had doing a project. Happily, the kids have also had hours and hours of fun with the result. Even without the sensory bins inside, a table with two holes has been fun for the kids all on its own. I can't thing of any other toy or activity that has captivated them for such long stretches of time that require ZERO help or attention from me.<br />
Table + bins: $31<br />
Hours of cooking dinner uninterupted: priceless<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaaL0G1zUZr8sg0olZv3K0qTK8G71U1w7_bbTEw6kP2OjfknqiJ_J_CslEt3fCL63yiF5iEYztiVSefBhpUfFo9bH0LXEvNfpf3vwdUgVHvJOYdeg77nPw2aw5M8fvCGIkGTad/s1600/P1030329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaaL0G1zUZr8sg0olZv3K0qTK8G71U1w7_bbTEw6kP2OjfknqiJ_J_CslEt3fCL63yiF5iEYztiVSefBhpUfFo9bH0LXEvNfpf3vwdUgVHvJOYdeg77nPw2aw5M8fvCGIkGTad/s400/P1030329.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black sand and a pretty collection of colorful rocks</td></tr>
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This last picture is with water marbles, which even I can't get enough of running my hands through. <br />
We've also tried rice (colored and scented with Kool-Aid) and seashells.<br />
I got a little kitchen scale, also on the cheap, and hopefully someone, sometime, will learn something about measuring and weighing from it. But if so, it will be on their own, because this is one activity that I revel in doing nothing. (Besides clean up...which is actually far from nothing.)<br />
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-43071919895708287472013-09-30T08:07:00.001-04:002013-09-30T08:07:32.129-04:00Family Visitors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We love, love, loved having Rob's sister Andrea + husband Isaac come to
visit us last week. One love for the fun of their company, another love
for the attention they heaped on the kids, and an extra love for the
pictures they took with their super nice camera. (All pics below are courtesy of Andrea and Isaac.)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rob and Andrea in Capernum (Sea of Galilee behind them)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rob, Isaac, Andrea eating fish caught (by someone else) from the Sea of Galilee</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctOUu9wdckGd2xhE7RYyWdDM5_4iavk4zL0zwqIVN5fo671T45wq6aj8HnJxTUquNSRlD7tyhzlOeHgoVp7K10Ohl62vtK2eMOQF58tUtEaS7vKU8vgAlztTTd6mSCsHJSubs/s1600/IMG_1264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctOUu9wdckGd2xhE7RYyWdDM5_4iavk4zL0zwqIVN5fo671T45wq6aj8HnJxTUquNSRlD7tyhzlOeHgoVp7K10Ohl62vtK2eMOQF58tUtEaS7vKU8vgAlztTTd6mSCsHJSubs/s640/IMG_1264.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ella, Herzliya Beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcFHvkhpa6zs_rBZbC1MjtAIG7dvhZIKB4nRVyE8OwReHyiuefzifSP7dsNfrgSjT_MHjVV2H6H4zyxhhGvDa7LdBg6HAjgV8LNLZtngfuPSciwgEbzpGp_1YkyQhehGVhArBz/s1600/IMG_1269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcFHvkhpa6zs_rBZbC1MjtAIG7dvhZIKB4nRVyE8OwReHyiuefzifSP7dsNfrgSjT_MHjVV2H6H4zyxhhGvDa7LdBg6HAjgV8LNLZtngfuPSciwgEbzpGp_1YkyQhehGVhArBz/s400/IMG_1269.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael, Herzliya Beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Iw4q-kQQXdpggzyFBYROWXn9d4L8ALyyC-dufqk5M6o65VxzdHFrMh8nSZHKLnafAIN2fflLvL-T2cdUkEkiWIQvFTKFkaK54NjdED-gF19spcgT3Dx0aEgU84SKac0gnbJx/s1600/IMG_1332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Iw4q-kQQXdpggzyFBYROWXn9d4L8ALyyC-dufqk5M6o65VxzdHFrMh8nSZHKLnafAIN2fflLvL-T2cdUkEkiWIQvFTKFkaK54NjdED-gF19spcgT3Dx0aEgU84SKac0gnbJx/s400/IMG_1332.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isaac, Ella</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4wXUfp9klxvKXqS54e287x_b3wVm4bt-8eDNHzyqZyJ_YhmG0erSW-zzZcc4xNki5fO51QFnK82d8X_QXpEqmGoVTeSOlMwkhExBWlBLAR-b_sZRrHvmIHG8v8sQkt-jwXvN/s1600/IMG_1406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4wXUfp9klxvKXqS54e287x_b3wVm4bt-8eDNHzyqZyJ_YhmG0erSW-zzZcc4xNki5fO51QFnK82d8X_QXpEqmGoVTeSOlMwkhExBWlBLAR-b_sZRrHvmIHG8v8sQkt-jwXvN/s640/IMG_1406.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mediterranean Sea at sunset (again...picture credit to Andrea!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip4rlUz_yFn7g7XZtxXsQBehSLbgDnjBfIip4UskLyIM98ZtKxMgu1Mll1AR4Jd5wCeZVcfbkCosiOMhnFEWyzMYpPIMAJpVqUt63Nf-cRlTTg0fFIV8nrT_YBXuxUCTQwqGx-/s1600/IMG_1541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip4rlUz_yFn7g7XZtxXsQBehSLbgDnjBfIip4UskLyIM98ZtKxMgu1Mll1AR4Jd5wCeZVcfbkCosiOMhnFEWyzMYpPIMAJpVqUt63Nf-cRlTTg0fFIV8nrT_YBXuxUCTQwqGx-/s400/IMG_1541.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael posing as a statue at Caesarea</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84JHyZs0KwcMrPzi92Ue_emKo3qH6EOSWuj96nLmyTytPSzCQEOD83qdwaXEn2lYa3A5xlwC6oX2Wh2g2qKT50Dye9TmbhXalXiKYok1V2-x5xpH_tniu98HkAwgzs7XJr81D/s1600/IMG_1545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84JHyZs0KwcMrPzi92Ue_emKo3qH6EOSWuj96nLmyTytPSzCQEOD83qdwaXEn2lYa3A5xlwC6oX2Wh2g2qKT50Dye9TmbhXalXiKYok1V2-x5xpH_tniu98HkAwgzs7XJr81D/s400/IMG_1545.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Copy-cat Ella, also posing as a statue</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNds43kJ62oP5dZkLOUuaZ25zF259lQ2YPtP28kiNR-CcfYnfQ6sUMaeyksW2DiXGRKef5E7L66Db2ddwagjDJP59Q8MyIBz5MdpMhlXURIyqRBa7pMSAawMYiqdMLO6zFwkJX/s1600/IMG_1551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNds43kJ62oP5dZkLOUuaZ25zF259lQ2YPtP28kiNR-CcfYnfQ6sUMaeyksW2DiXGRKef5E7L66Db2ddwagjDJP59Q8MyIBz5MdpMhlXURIyqRBa7pMSAawMYiqdMLO6zFwkJX/s400/IMG_1551.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrea and Isaac at Caesarea</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-70911589550602098032013-09-13T07:59:00.002-04:002013-09-13T07:59:46.913-04:00Michael's 4th Birthday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For Michael's 4th birthday, we went bowling and ate dinner at the Seven Stars Mall. After we sang "Happy Birthday", a girl approached our table. She was an 8 or 9 year old cutie, prettied up from head to toe and wearing a classic pink ballerina outfit and skirt. She handed Michael a balloon from McDonald's and, using excellent English, wished him a happy birthday. He looked at her in awe, with big eyes but little comment, not sure what to make of her. (She was just another kid eating at the mall who decided to do something nice at random.)<br />
At home that night, out of the blue he asked, "Mom, why did a beautiful princess come give me a balloon today?"<br />
He asked about the beautiful princess again this morning. <br />
I wish I had a picture of her and I hope he always remembers that sweet, beautiful ballerina!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjobK5ABbKr-BmD4jmWqs0nS8F41hVxlRto-jGXhJbENorh6zG_x-h4no9VF9ZehJsDh_gYwaP0P-J66n4PueI7RAJprhty5VkhT9vgFAZa-Z0Ju0cQolXYDKAM2TZlgSBazc/s1600/P1030380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjobK5ABbKr-BmD4jmWqs0nS8F41hVxlRto-jGXhJbENorh6zG_x-h4no9VF9ZehJsDh_gYwaP0P-J66n4PueI7RAJprhty5VkhT9vgFAZa-Z0Ju0cQolXYDKAM2TZlgSBazc/s400/P1030380.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In his new Liverpool jersey from Rob. He was bursting with exuberance all birthday long, from the second he woke up till he went back to bed.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhpsmJBf25wvC4FFGGTBNDqS1EBKXfPQ_brXotEaZs39am3esc6E9XN3ZC0qnulARI7WHxvfLf386PBrDooZPTBO5-YF9xRSgZlri4STnocJr3eZhITulkkwHIEiMrY2nnsok/s1600/P1030401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhpsmJBf25wvC4FFGGTBNDqS1EBKXfPQ_brXotEaZs39am3esc6E9XN3ZC0qnulARI7WHxvfLf386PBrDooZPTBO5-YF9xRSgZlri4STnocJr3eZhITulkkwHIEiMrY2nnsok/s400/P1030401.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His options were bowling with one or two friends, or a party at our house with all of his friends. Lucky me he loves bowling, because I'm way too tired right now for the latter option.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1cbibqeeuc2uoYjYaAcwF_lvkzdE-8LbdTl9Y8wL8rOB48UMfQeEeRUwCZrCyCSnihZanJn8mTVicUyprfStCd-5XgaaglsXKf4IV_dc8Egxf03rekbsYg_9jMMuZIzonc_s/s1600/P1030403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1cbibqeeuc2uoYjYaAcwF_lvkzdE-8LbdTl9Y8wL8rOB48UMfQeEeRUwCZrCyCSnihZanJn8mTVicUyprfStCd-5XgaaglsXKf4IV_dc8Egxf03rekbsYg_9jMMuZIzonc_s/s400/P1030403.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Random quote from this morning: "Mom, why do we have two hands?" How many does he wish he had? Nine.</div>
Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-12638210096003239162013-08-27T16:16:00.000-04:002013-08-27T16:16:39.434-04:00Conversations with Smalls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today's conversation with Michael:<br />
<br />
Mom, I don't like your uterus.<br />
Why not?<br />
Because that is where the baby is growing.<br />
And why don't you like that?<br />
Because, babies take a lot of time and work, you know?<br />
<br />
Yesterday:<br />
Michael: Ella, will you tell me the story again about the umbilical cord?<br />
Ella: Sure. Once upon a time, there was a little baby Michael and he had an umbilical cord. Then he had to get a shot and he cried and he cried. Then he grew and he grew into his normal. <br />
<br />
I think we've been watching one too many videos from babycenter.com. I showed them one once (it's computer graphics of a baby in the womb at different stages of development), and they have begged for more and more. My kids are fascinated by them and it cracks me up to now hear them referencing my uterus, placenta, and the umbilical cord. Nearly everyday Michael examines my belly and announces, yep, it's growing. <br />
<br />
The videos have given my kids an unrealistic view of what can be filmed, however. Michael has also made requests for a video of the baby coming down from heaven and going into my belly, as well as a look inside of a cocoon to see how it turns into a butterfly.<br />
<br />
I am overjoyed about having baby #3! But I will definitely <i>feel</i> more overjoyed again once it feels more like a baby and less like a parasite making me sick all the time. <br />
<br />
The top two reasons I am excited for another child:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0U3EM5xNHTJCGTKdrcrOdG_2yswlf7j0uO1C0wVoisyDBhmrsuP6pUnajpGyNfQWMZfwTYwEfz2eoFVnpkfLAhxmFXGhBQF8fA1Qkk0SrQKJ5OMwOK52wqrxG9ALsvNtoyuoa/s1600/P1030353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0U3EM5xNHTJCGTKdrcrOdG_2yswlf7j0uO1C0wVoisyDBhmrsuP6pUnajpGyNfQWMZfwTYwEfz2eoFVnpkfLAhxmFXGhBQF8fA1Qkk0SrQKJ5OMwOK52wqrxG9ALsvNtoyuoa/s640/P1030353.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was taking some pictures of something else when Ella grabbed the magnifying glass and walked up to the camera just like this. Too perfect!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLA4kuQ84t8ZvrtRN1JJe4Re1om4nY5wg4xkxwtEQ9gAkL_ThEeipTDr9sQoBbl_4D0EHti2nhn0z0-zpgiDLLIOBQz45Pf0grUotSG2KO3dzJ7lWc-bSlWzcg80qm-im7cI1/s1600/P1030356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLA4kuQ84t8ZvrtRN1JJe4Re1om4nY5wg4xkxwtEQ9gAkL_ThEeipTDr9sQoBbl_4D0EHti2nhn0z0-zpgiDLLIOBQz45Pf0grUotSG2KO3dzJ7lWc-bSlWzcg80qm-im7cI1/s640/P1030356.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Copy cat picture with the other cutie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-48442222614691790892013-08-14T16:22:00.000-04:002013-08-14T16:22:38.507-04:00Orderly Ella<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECg5OUHgPfMjca1sblBrQOxlIUV6V3fOJZcztEtxOlC-01nPLXkCcXuMEwbxwLKcQVIksYamFe5nH3qrRekKoVTwJ1qnt3s6pMMzN2wIjzCl6QbjJdxDOIi6tCQhyQwKQYKuZ/s1600/P1030314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECg5OUHgPfMjca1sblBrQOxlIUV6V3fOJZcztEtxOlC-01nPLXkCcXuMEwbxwLKcQVIksYamFe5nH3qrRekKoVTwJ1qnt3s6pMMzN2wIjzCl6QbjJdxDOIi6tCQhyQwKQYKuZ/s1600/P1030314.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
A few months ago I started finding washcloths around the house, only
to discover that my baby Ella likes to get them out to clean. I
thought it was just a phase, but she's kept up with it for so long and
so often that I'd say it's shaping up to be a full blown personality trait. My girl loves to
clean.<br />
<br />
It was especially charming on this day, when the kids were
outside making giant bubbles with some friends. Everyone was going nuts
over the bubbles, when in ran Ella, babbling to herself, "It's dripping
all over, we gotta clean it up", as she headed straight for the drawer
with the washcloths. Then she ran back and dutifully wiped up the drips
as the other kids made the bubbles.<br />
How did we ever get a child like this in our family?!<br />
And how does the same girl make such a blissful, almost artful mess of food all over herself and the surrounding region every time we sit down to eat? <br />
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I<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEO7OjvyMigk3HTLc4CtV9tBYeeehlngj6qtb77EvbVyRSF0on4vhZur2BwpjlmT5OkDqaQ0ilXw09m2R09d8VYkaZNY119vUCIPB3wi8S6kiO-RNMnUA99r1xRjwMUn92mWZ/s1600/P1030313.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></div>
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On a related note, nearly every other night for the last few months, Ella will start to cry within a few minutes of me leaving the room as she goes to sleep. As soon as I come in, she calms down and says in her most proper voice, "Mommy, my blanket has been messed up." It cracks me up. The way she delivers it feels to my ears like the equivalent of "mother dearest, I would like to bring it to your attention that my blanket is not in its proper position."</div>
Robhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12523594819308397303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-5738490824353232822013-07-29T15:19:00.001-04:002013-07-29T15:26:25.165-04:00Five Step Process to Eat Your Dinner<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Before I forget... Last week Michael and Ella were painting in their underwear out back. He wanted to take off his undies and I told him no. My kids are no strangers to running around naked and I couldn't come up with a particular reason why I cared, but this time it just struck me as a bad idea.<br />
Soon after I went inside to help get dinner on, Michael ran inside naked and crying that his bum hurt. Turns out, he took off his undies and almost immediately sat down on a brand-new colony of stinging ants. OUCH! His poor bum was covered in red stings. Every remedy I tried to help reduce the sting just made him scream harder, and the one thing that finally helped was stuffing an ice-pack into his undies. Ella got one sting as well and together they created quite the cacophony.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtKD7TNjxnl4knE0rvwBhj-SsJuL8-I-4ocQQ6ry4jeo0xoyBG7j84mXqboAy30p7knyWH8QbIkMfJt6ETK4vXq5l_hHnVP3ppUCgrviaWixdHU_IUAFeWONvjfIV0maw2QW2/s1600/P1030277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtKD7TNjxnl4knE0rvwBhj-SsJuL8-I-4ocQQ6ry4jeo0xoyBG7j84mXqboAy30p7knyWH8QbIkMfJt6ETK4vXq5l_hHnVP3ppUCgrviaWixdHU_IUAFeWONvjfIV0maw2QW2/s1600/P1030277.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
Now, if only this type of experience would produce perfectly obedient children. Unfortunately they forget quickly. But mothers don't. I will definitely be referencing back to this.<br />
We ate dinner rather late that night after the kids finally settled down. But dinner is often a little interesting in our house, as it is always a task to figure out how to get Michael to put his food in his mouth and chew. I am in utter disbelief that I have produced offspring that actually eats more slowly than I do. SLOWER THAN ME! It is hard to fathom. He actually eats a decently good variety of food and is even willing to try new food. But the time it takes for him to put it in his mouth!!! We have tried all sorts of tactics - but ultimately there is no forcing with food and we usually end up clearing the table and having the dishes done before he finally announces "I think I can finish this in just ten more minutes!". <br />
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Anyway, Michael really likes signs and step-by-step processes, so somehow this night we came up with the 5-Step Process to Eat Your Dinner (and repeat). He loved it so much he turned it into a song, and he did actually end up finishing his one slice of pizza sometime before bed. At which time, Michael insisted on sleeping with the ice-pack in his diaper. <br />
I guess the humor of it all just made it a really amusing night, the kind that makes me just love having a family. Here are a couple random videos I took as I tried to soak in my goofy kids.<br />
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Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-80959738256762166172013-07-22T09:20:00.000-04:002013-07-22T09:20:17.269-04:00Ella Turns 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Some bits about Ella as she turns two:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She is a messy eater and refuses a bib - so she always eats topless.</td></tr>
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She is so very good at self-entertaining. She is very easy going with a pretty long fuse before she gets frustrated. If she does get upset or hurt, she settles down pretty quickly. She has a long attention span. Basically, the stuff that makes her a pretty easy kid. She is a make-believe queen. Her favorite make-believe games almost always involve food. Her favorite books revolve around food, too. She loves an odd book I never really intended for her; it's called "It's Addition" and it has little rhymes about adding things like scoops of ice-cream and lollipops. But she's asked me to read it probably 50 times. So she often will say things like, "Mom, I have equals two pillows". Or "I want two plus equals three spoons" and other nonsense. <br />
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Last month she entered the "Don't look at me" and "Go away" stage. So funny. I could hardly believe it when one morning she even told Michael to stop smiling at her! I thought I still had a couple years before a kid might start with that stuff. <br />
She's always begging me to play crack-the-whip with her in the backyard. I always feel like it is a rough game for her little body but she loves it and likes to be whipped around till she falls over. <br />
She is as silly as can be. She teases me by pretending to offer something and then taking it away. She changes lyrics to songs in silly ways and then laughs her little head off. Like, "Ring around the Rosies, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all... climb on Mommy's back!", as she climbs up my back, laughs, and then demands a horsey ride.<br />
She mixes up words in the cute ways that kids do. Spaghetti is said "spasgetti" and I love the stereotypicalness of it. She calls sunscreen "scumscreem", which always lightens my mood as she yells "BUT I DON'T WANT SCUMSCREEM!".<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bumper cars on her birthday. One of the great things about living in Israel is that they had no qualms about letting her on.</td></tr>
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As she's finally outgrown her fierce attachment to mommy-only, it's cute to see the ways she bonds with dad. She has always been pretty resistant to letting anyone fix her hair, but last month she finally let Rob start putting in pony tails. So he is usually the one to fix her hair before church. It looks the way you might expect from a guy, but still totally cute and totally sweet that she likes him to do her hair.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Look mom, I'm Papa in the Pail!" Her rendition of that picture in Dr. Suess's ABC book. (Related, if you know the book, Ella and Michael both call scissors "zizzors" because of the Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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She is silly and sweet, cautious and confident, independent but still loves to snuggle. Her nicknames, Peaches and The Sweetness, suit her perfectly!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She pretends to be a bird and calls Michael's football container her nest. </td></tr>
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p.s. It cracked me up on the morning of her birthday when Michael was so confused that she hadn't grown up over night. The first thing he said when he saw her in the morning was "But mom, she's still a baby!" and then a steady flow of things like "why isn't she bigger now?", "why didn't she grow?", etc.</div>
Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-69061519381718544742013-07-11T16:35:00.001-04:002013-07-12T01:47:20.760-04:00Roaches<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Does this count as serendipity? Today I found a cockroach lying dead in the dustpan! Short of crawling into the trashcan to die, you don't get any more convenient than that.** This is the second time I have found one dead in the dustpan. Strange and totally helpful of them.<br />
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Last week Rob picked up his huge stand up paddle surf board, and at the very moment he was completely loaded, a giant 2 inch roach ran up his arm! He couldn't do anything! Luckily (???) after it ran up his arm it flew away before attacking his head and forcing him to die or drop the board. <br />
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I used to find it incredibly difficult to kill roaches due to the "crunch factor". But I have invented a genius technique that involves plugging both ears as I bring down my foot. It's like it never happened.<br />
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Cleaning up dead roaches is a daily occurrence around here in the warm months. When we haven't used the guest bathroom tub (in the basement) for a month or longer, when I do finally go in the tub has a near-complete layer of dead bugs littering the bottom. Welcome visitors!<br />
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I have seen, more than once, roaches run across the food on the conveyor belt at the check out in the grocery store. (Also a lot of birds live in the fresh produce section of my store. They are kind to all living creatures in this store, apparently.) <br />
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Who knew I'd ever have so much to say about roaches.<br />
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**After Rob read this he told me that last night he got a soccer ball out of an unused trashcan in the basement, and inside it were several dead roaches. Such cooperative roaches we breed in our house! </div>
Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-58696377865188843612013-07-06T16:41:00.000-04:002013-07-07T01:27:00.848-04:00Michael at Church TodayToday Michael was assigned to read a scripture in Primary. But since it was testimony meeting this week, he decided he wanted to tell his scripture to the whole congregation as well. As soon as he could, he eagerly marched right up to the podium. Sadly, someone else went up right in front of him, probably thinking he was a child on the loose instead of someone who wanted to speak. He turned around and you could just see the disappointment welling up as he walked back. His eyes teared up as he loudly gave us (and everyone else) his sad play-by-play of what just happened. We pacified him by having him go to the front row so he could be first in line for the next turn. Of course everyone was watching by then and the other lady let him go first. He confidently stepped up to the podium, mouth on the mic, wiped away one last tear, and delivered. " '...be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only...' James, chapter 1, verse 22. And I just want to bear my testimony, that if you are good, or bad, you can just be happy. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."<br />
Lots of smiles in the room. It was hard not to laugh out loud at a) the "or bad" part and b) the conviction that he delivered it. He had read the scripture earlier, but he decided right then and there to add the bit at the end. His confidence is astounding, particularly when facing a room full of people. I hope he never loses that total lack of inhibition. It is one of the most joyous things about him.Robhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12523594819308397303noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-3087501800325974292013-06-30T15:35:00.002-04:002013-06-30T15:35:55.664-04:00The Grand Canyon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last month during our R&R trip back the the States, Rob and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary with a river rafting trip through the Grand Canyon. My sister aptly remarked on how perfect we must be for each other if our ideal anniversary trip would entail sleepaing on the ground, not showering for days, and only getting to take a backpack worth of stuff with us. We both thought it was the perfect trip and a fun reminder of how perfect we are for each other.<br />
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The hours just melted away on the river. It felt both serene and adventurous. A lot of laziness as well as a serious hike from the river all the way up to the top of the south rim. Cat naps on the boat under the hot sun whenever I felt the slightest bit drowsy, sandwiched between exhilarating rides through frigid rapids. Just the way I'd like life served up all the time.<br />
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Even the 8 hour drive home was a good time. We stopped whenever we wanted, taking in some side adventures of ziplines, rock shopping that just blew my mind (I really love cool rocks and fossils, much to Rob's surprise after he thought he knew everything about me), and eating some of very fine small-town shakes and burgers. On a side note, I must say that the people and lifestyles in those small little rural towns seem every bit as intriguing and culturally different to me as those I meet abroad. It was a reminder of how big regional differences are even just within the US. <br />
It was really nice to leave behind all the worries of being a parent for a few days and have Rob all to myself (and myself all to Rob). But I also can't wait to do it again when Michael and Ella are old enough to come along!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The milky looking river behind us is the Little Colorado. We hiked up where it fed into the Colorado and got to float down it in our life vests, even through a few small rapids. This was one of my favorite parts of the trip.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "DUKE". Couldn't resist a picture. Never have I sat on a toilet with such a great view! One of the rules of the river was "you can't get privacy, you can only give it."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH53J_aD2KeNPMmEYyYA4qR3SLFFKwPa8esc-AieweM4XNRxklmbmowIAqDZDFvnCXoTnITfaGvaYkQoK9WZow4T1qoHgNDx29Ed7GdeuvnQIPQWBjWHWZDMfZIPhXeb2VaNKv/s1600/GOPR0090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH53J_aD2KeNPMmEYyYA4qR3SLFFKwPa8esc-AieweM4XNRxklmbmowIAqDZDFvnCXoTnITfaGvaYkQoK9WZow4T1qoHgNDx29Ed7GdeuvnQIPQWBjWHWZDMfZIPhXeb2VaNKv/s400/GOPR0090.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We stopped to immerse ourselves in every waterfall we could find along our long, HOT hike up to the top of the South Rim.</td></tr>
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Robhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12523594819308397303noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32526378.post-1852010003952155792013-06-16T14:44:00.004-04:002013-06-16T14:44:31.968-04:00Happy Father's Day!<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HnTkucA8_t0" width="560"></iframe><br />Lorenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04766712212055001777noreply@blogger.com5