tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24233993440308884712024-02-20T14:08:29.918-08:00Krazy EightsWhat happens when you take the Marine Corps, Six kids, dogs, grandkids, one Marine (retired as of a second ago) and me and mix them all together? Nothing less than KRAZY!Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.comBlogger174125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-30670790629992381912017-01-21T09:01:00.000-08:002018-07-25T10:18:58.637-07:00Women's March 2017 - Dear Grandaughters,UPDATE: I would just like to say this post was written PRIOR to the news coverage of some of the speakers. I was saddened by the vulgarity and the base attempt at inciting women using lower standards, nasty language and personal attacks. An opportunity wasted to continue to highlight inequality and discrimination that was an embarrassment. I stand by what I wrote, the need to continue to elevate women's issues, but NOT in the manner in which some public figures chose to denigrate others and by doing so denigrated themselves. Shock and Awe should be reserved for military combat, not moving forward the advancement of our society to higher ideals. Stand strong my little women. Hold yourself to a higher standard while representing daughters of our Heavenly Father and don't get sucked into a negative energy that overshadows the higher purpose. <br /><br />Love Grandmother<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivABYRn6fB_wOsVgbW2qtqqmIK7jSZo1uISnFvcFTxXXKVSuYSJARA7rS50c8yZJUhOhH0vpJFzMwMTC4wvrR8rXA2KrvE15fuv3QYev3TKN3DB4tQ5QDfC452RxzGcp3U6kqPtXcpCOvN/s1600/IMG_20170116_125236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: black; clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivABYRn6fB_wOsVgbW2qtqqmIK7jSZo1uISnFvcFTxXXKVSuYSJARA7rS50c8yZJUhOhH0vpJFzMwMTC4wvrR8rXA2KrvE15fuv3QYev3TKN3DB4tQ5QDfC452RxzGcp3U6kqPtXcpCOvN/s640/IMG_20170116_125236.jpg" width="640" /></a></3><br />
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My dear granddaughters,</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi03H5BZuBXAbM1gCwtgg2yyoP7aXBEjLn-39sk1viTeqe5x8exTQqBwvGtlYSzWIgb2HHmA8A2fWglnLSYcw2rJRDA-TvXqvHxAs9nwC_cfmmDhVLBtZjvWqklypOz-l-jRt0N-u7SY7AW/s1600/20170116_122301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi03H5BZuBXAbM1gCwtgg2yyoP7aXBEjLn-39sk1viTeqe5x8exTQqBwvGtlYSzWIgb2HHmA8A2fWglnLSYcw2rJRDA-TvXqvHxAs9nwC_cfmmDhVLBtZjvWqklypOz-l-jRt0N-u7SY7AW/s320/20170116_122301.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Consider your world thoughtfully.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Nt7oaTMPuY9Mcma4YIbXGHPr-Zf4Lv9OzEzFuAc0KxNgqQx13efA-UpIV8vlkv7ectpLuVfb_Mw3qXs8UxS2PhtrMDC48W3m6duZXdCgxO5jZpPR9yk7CYvhJONptx7-HU-83fnF_-0c/s1600/20170116_125601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a>I am so grateful the campaign politics of 2016 has come to an end. I knew it would, one way or the other. I knew there would be those who mourned Jan. 20, 2017 and others who cheered, celebrated and looked forward to "change". It's like that every four years. There is always a winner of an election and there is always a loser of an election. You will experience being on both sides. Don't be a snotty winner and don't be a boobing loser. Stand up, overcome and put your shoulder to the wheel. Life goes on and there is dirty clothes to wash and toilets to scrub.<br />
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This post is not about who won or who lost, but about you my little girl. My sweet grand-recruit 3. The events of yesterday and those of tomorrow will shape the world you will find yourself in when you are my age. You have some influence. Be wise about where you exert that influence. Otherwise you will feel unsettled, hopeless and exhausted. Act where you can and don't take on what you have no control over.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always walk with purpose and determination</td></tr>
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I find myself more reflective and less vocal as I get older. I think I saw a meme somewhere that said that is what wisdom does to you. I don't know if that's true, I think I'm just tired and really don't care to engage in the heated debates that often have resulted in hurt feelings, name calling and demeaning of someone who you call 'friend'. That result cancels out any real sharing of thought, opinion or ideology. Keep that in mind. Berating and belittling some one's view point will never end well or be productive. Just watch footage from this past year. Even if you "win" your argument, you will lose something much greater.<br />
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I have my opinion, believe me. It's just as strong and defined as the next grandmother, but I find I don't need to always engage and defend it. It's still mine. I've done a lot more listening this go round.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_0fLgIkoekuHvcMP51zwS7eyrCVv1VpEgT1Nbt1QKi5EcA_O9Sdnk5CQsl2k1t5EwKJOmm0Y3t0jdm1HuCbGgrkX5mlTwvne0kHQI08dWXY27YOOwcQRr9jILIXWXKb-2qXxSJRUAPQT/s1600/20170116_122300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="little girl with hand on hip" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_0fLgIkoekuHvcMP51zwS7eyrCVv1VpEgT1Nbt1QKi5EcA_O9Sdnk5CQsl2k1t5EwKJOmm0Y3t0jdm1HuCbGgrkX5mlTwvne0kHQI08dWXY27YOOwcQRr9jILIXWXKb-2qXxSJRUAPQT/s400/20170116_122300.jpg" title="GR3 hand on hip" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Be firm and strong when you find what you believe.</td></tr>
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I am not marching in person. I have a hard time with large crowds, the energy, the possibilities of what could happen are just not something I want to deal with... New Year's Eve in downtown San Antonio many years ago ruined me and my ability to handle enormous crowds where I might be trampled to death, or stabbed, or crushed or kidnapped or... you get the picture.<br />
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My behind was pinched repeatedly that New Year's Eve on the way to the car and when Granddaddy Oohrah encircled me in his arms and pushed us through the crowd a knife fight broke out right in the direction he was pushing me. YES, I probably need therapy, but avoidance has worked well since 1997. I however am in my heart marching and cheering those on who are moved to march to show solidarity and support for women's rights. I am after all a woman, I gave birth to women and they in turn are giving me the most precious people, my tiny grand-women.<br />
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Does that mean I'm a bra burner? Does that mean I want to hold the Priesthood? Um, no. An emphatic no. I have no idea what each woman today marches for. What their personal issue might be that draws them into crowds of thousands.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrx8ClhVAE9p76KOuiy806Rs2ylx2COLw7cQznsoBE-W9miWMAldB_Lt8RgPxv6ADEo5B9pznXD92jsJlbNl8_-Z_GquuP1ikFaRfqTJ9BimgOzhkJvBfszhm4GD0fSRv9q8Kw60E_S45l/s1600/20170116_122258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrx8ClhVAE9p76KOuiy806Rs2ylx2COLw7cQznsoBE-W9miWMAldB_Lt8RgPxv6ADEo5B9pznXD92jsJlbNl8_-Z_GquuP1ikFaRfqTJ9BimgOzhkJvBfszhm4GD0fSRv9q8Kw60E_S45l/s320/20170116_122258.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dance whenever you want!</td></tr>
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And I am so okay with each person having their own personal motivation, even if it's not high on my list or if I have a different opinion or view of what women's rights looks like. I don't know that I do, I'm just sticking that caveat in there. I want you and your sister to allow others the room to have their own thoughts and opinions, even if you don't agree with them. THAT IS OKAY. You can love them for who they are without agreeing with them. Your not the boss of them. If you do engage in conversation, state your beliefs and stand by them, but be kind. You will never regret being kind. I promise you.<br />
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If I were to march it would be so my posterity would honor, love and cherish the women in their lives. It would be so you would cherish each other and the gifts you each bring to our family, especially because you are women. Unique beautiful daughters of God who have a purpose and who are strong, smart and kind. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlxzmj2CA0iBCzZXnWsLBh08zgFpea0oxUutGxM3e8S6Ad0-sgmeoOHMvmNF35AWT62fxryazeYFffuzGuNTf2ce6zYS3ZmsddpvRifTxB9jsezl4IfA4l5TRaN4u4FpRx_BZkXYRv5xhX/s1600/IMG_20161117_160433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlxzmj2CA0iBCzZXnWsLBh08zgFpea0oxUutGxM3e8S6Ad0-sgmeoOHMvmNF35AWT62fxryazeYFffuzGuNTf2ce6zYS3ZmsddpvRifTxB9jsezl4IfA4l5TRaN4u4FpRx_BZkXYRv5xhX/s200/IMG_20161117_160433.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">9 day old grand-recruit 4, my sweet granddaughter</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguDX8VikYW2HVQ7C1lkJUshCgija2CvN-aaGxrfZnNuSrCpijIGtlvrRu8oQV-S3WLDvwxhSp6JFcr1YgpICY8fyZ6co0fuxI9V0fff6GlG2V8_5O_kuiXz2k6GJAZFFZOh5c2JiEnHMAr/s1600/20170116_122242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguDX8VikYW2HVQ7C1lkJUshCgija2CvN-aaGxrfZnNuSrCpijIGtlvrRu8oQV-S3WLDvwxhSp6JFcr1YgpICY8fyZ6co0fuxI9V0fff6GlG2V8_5O_kuiXz2k6GJAZFFZOh5c2JiEnHMAr/s200/20170116_122242.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GR3 loves GR4 and is the sweetest when talking to her sister.</td></tr>
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I would march for each woman's agency to determine what she needs to march for, even if it is against what I believe I should march for. I wouldn't march out of fear for the future because of Donald Trump or any other man. He is but a player on a much bigger, more eternal stage. He will go away just like all presidents go away. He is just a man. One I will pray for, one I hope can do what is right and good and one who I hope gets his Twitter account taken away... </div>
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I prayed for President Obama, and I prayed for President Clinton. Wanting good things for our country is not just for one political party or the other. What each administration leaves as their legacy will just stack neatly on top of every other administrations legacy like a wonky mismatched stack of Lego's. So I think a women's march should take place after every inauguration. Not just this year. </div>
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Let's march EVERY four years to remind whomever is in office that we are not a silent uneducated population. We are here and not going away. We have voices and will express them... And we vote. We are intricately woven into the history of this nation and we are integral to the strength of our country. </div>
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American women will not go quietly into the night. We won't be shoved back into obscurity. I can't even imagine that being a possibility, but who knows. It doesn't hurt to remind the pant suits that we can wear them too.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVoKzF7X7BudOEHNyQx2q1uh6J3Y0juRB6bvBV767cfHSvSbseoDdQFHpFzXYQSZ7EOWjMz9Ofcmu_C7yKMEOt6dcEBo3rUWeXhL_ZVm8ODLIhrJnOAIro-qbGOB7LoZx6TKD0Zsu8W_0/s1600/20170116_125601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVoKzF7X7BudOEHNyQx2q1uh6J3Y0juRB6bvBV767cfHSvSbseoDdQFHpFzXYQSZ7EOWjMz9Ofcmu_C7yKMEOt6dcEBo3rUWeXhL_ZVm8ODLIhrJnOAIro-qbGOB7LoZx6TKD0Zsu8W_0/s320/20170116_125601.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandmother and GR3 </td></tr>
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Many I am saddened march out of fear. Not for the crowds like me, but for the future. I think faith should replace fear. Faith in a higher power, whatever your higher power is. Mine is Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and in their plan. I would march in faith, which ironically because of my very mortal fear, I won't go march. I'm a mess. I know. Hopefully I don't ruin you...<br />
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I want each of you to be allowed to live by the dictates of your own conscious. I want you to have equal pay for equal work, I want you to honor those who have gone before that fought for our civil rights so you and I could vote, and we could decide all by ourselves what we think and who we support and if we want to share that or not. I support the march because I believe freedom to choose is one of the biggest blessings in our lives.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtt9OMJkfh1UjuaJBteZUfkFf9H_tq5uwim3JkuW673O2KIScTmdICNaxb_Jehg9qn0Gx5sqX6Qnju9K4Nr_SNPj3h7p1_GwkD-1zSjjxyHpjgMHHWvM_yo5B7kdk1PAHH1UEJKr4RiiE/s1600/20170114_110411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtt9OMJkfh1UjuaJBteZUfkFf9H_tq5uwim3JkuW673O2KIScTmdICNaxb_Jehg9qn0Gx5sqX6Qnju9K4Nr_SNPj3h7p1_GwkD-1zSjjxyHpjgMHHWvM_yo5B7kdk1PAHH1UEJKr4RiiE/s320/20170114_110411.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Find your own style!</td></tr>
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So you can be a mom, or you can be an astronaut or you can be both. Or a ninja. A ninja who wears pearls.<br />
<br />Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-50142819784868427902014-09-20T04:29:00.000-07:002014-09-20T04:29:28.858-07:00The Start to Retirement Life: So Much Fun, However There is Always a Fly in the Ointment...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJY_pzJO1a5MxQJtnecDL-VtVLsLRgEh14R2qMNITPR09YIP8HPqicPABrdHEBh7sKp01XMUQHPPFGr4BdhNUg2ch70UKy25GeFnBXMbSwOfjVUiuY2GAEGPoo-awxLTaNkB5e6DjYOT0H/s1600/IMG_0392medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJY_pzJO1a5MxQJtnecDL-VtVLsLRgEh14R2qMNITPR09YIP8HPqicPABrdHEBh7sKp01XMUQHPPFGr4BdhNUg2ch70UKy25GeFnBXMbSwOfjVUiuY2GAEGPoo-awxLTaNkB5e6DjYOT0H/s1600/IMG_0392medium.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My darling friend's<br /> wedding</td></tr>
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Since June so much has happened. We moved, started a new church/Ward, schools, teams, new friends, one of my dear friends got a new husband, (he is fabulous!) we have a new granddaughter, The Marine started his first post retirement job and on and on and on. My heart is truly full. And Elder Recruit 2 comes home in just 4 short weeks.<br />
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Did I say full? No, my heart is growing three sizes, and I think it was already feeling full to start with!<br />
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There is only one problem that truly has me concerned, perplexed and just uncomfortable dang it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDInFe2KTCR5Zhqf_UU2hQ02OsfYUaq9X-0crkiSyOv5nOFI29qsARlaOiF3BfYNBwE3CfbBGkroXZCt8F3hy_GXIZDIN0Mbw5V2QQ6pc7jChV5u0iHqU0rrOKI3i4kh6JVAy5LZDWRmcv/s1600/IMG_8422mediumfile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDInFe2KTCR5Zhqf_UU2hQ02OsfYUaq9X-0crkiSyOv5nOFI29qsARlaOiF3BfYNBwE3CfbBGkroXZCt8F3hy_GXIZDIN0Mbw5V2QQ6pc7jChV5u0iHqU0rrOKI3i4kh6JVAy5LZDWRmcv/s1600/IMG_8422mediumfile.jpg" height="320" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wedding set up<br /> "I've been driving/working look"</td></tr>
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It's The Marine and his facial hair. I hate it.<br />
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Now hate is a strong word and I know this, but I feel THAT strongly about his whiskers. I have even threatened to not shave until he does and have made darn good starts, but then I just gross myself out and pull out the razors.<br />
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He grew a full beard and then trimmed it down to the goatee type thing, that to his credit he groomed faithfully.<br />
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In the beginning I indulged this hairy behavior because, well, it was expected. Almost 28 years of faithful shaving (except on leave, I'll admit he had moments) I figured the boy was entitled to some face fur. But then it just kept staying there, you know like moss? It spread out and continued to cover every surface.<br />
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A couple of months had gone by and I began to suggest (whine) that maybe it was time to morph back into the man I fell in love with. No joy for Kelli.<br />
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Then one day he appeared. That hunky Marine I said I do to. I was elated. He truly loves me! I leaped upon him in glee and smoothed my cheek next to his, sighing with happiness and contentment. I said "you love me, you really love me!"<br />
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A slight pause which gave me pause.<br />
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"Um, sure, of course I do" the now soft cheeked Old Marine said.<br />
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I looked at him. He grinned. I asked "WHAT?"<br />
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"Well, actually I've been trimming and it started going crooked, so I've hit the reset button. I'm starting over."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLM5-rPuFiPe2OvJzEfFuTZIvWZ4KPHqR32UgXLFS4KdNSd6w2Xkg54hrhc6eNiqvpVBcPR5dUiluzTXu4jMBE6cvbEDN-qUIdJiMp8ilwdysWmqEQ70sYwXij_Q6ZOErfK3XjKYknixM/s1600/IMG_0393medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLM5-rPuFiPe2OvJzEfFuTZIvWZ4KPHqR32UgXLFS4KdNSd6w2Xkg54hrhc6eNiqvpVBcPR5dUiluzTXu4jMBE6cvbEDN-qUIdJiMp8ilwdysWmqEQ70sYwXij_Q6ZOErfK3XjKYknixM/s1600/IMG_0393medium.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love him in spite of the whiskers.<br /> I just didn't think <br />to add no whiskers to our vows.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
NOOOOOOOO! Say it isn't so! This is a bad dream. WAKE UP WAKE UP<br />
<br />
Yes, yes he did. Now we are back to the scratchy dirty phase. I so want to go take a little razor and just shave little divots into the whiskers while he sleeps. You know, how rich people stomp divots during a polo match? Only I'd use a razor. In the dead of night, dressed in black.<br />
<br />
Then I would run. Really, really fast.<br />
<br />
Or a strip of hair depilatory down the center of his chin. Only I'd have to be ready to never sleep again as the next night I'd find the center of my head slathered in said depilatory.<br />
<br />
This would also involve very fast running at some point as well. So due to the fact that I abhor running, and I appreciate a good night's sleep, I continue to bear this burden of facial hair experimentation with the same grace and resolve I faced many challenges from life with a Marine. Grim determination, a great deal of complaining, continued hollow empty threats, tantrums and shortly bribery.<br />
<br />
There was a reason I married a Marine. I always thought it was the uniform. I now know it was because I could actually see his FACE!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBNQaTvbF6sW0yvF5TjXcqwHpNdeg7zQP1XVD7SH2ktk0lQBHsWFgBx0KUAEdTRM5IbwHt-ca5x2UORUiG8ovikYH6b5jBujsVbOMC2765cS9Kmlu5y1uqCeHRYgup5g-CiSVEOYzMuK_/s1600/IMG_0389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBNQaTvbF6sW0yvF5TjXcqwHpNdeg7zQP1XVD7SH2ktk0lQBHsWFgBx0KUAEdTRM5IbwHt-ca5x2UORUiG8ovikYH6b5jBujsVbOMC2765cS9Kmlu5y1uqCeHRYgup5g-CiSVEOYzMuK_/s1600/IMG_0389.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm pretty sure I am thinking about his facial hair. <br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDInFe2KTCR5Zhqf_UU2hQ02OsfYUaq9X-0crkiSyOv5nOFI29qsARlaOiF3BfYNBwE3CfbBGkroXZCt8F3hy_GXIZDIN0Mbw5V2QQ6pc7jChV5u0iHqU0rrOKI3i4kh6JVAy5LZDWRmcv/s1600/IMG_8422mediumfile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-4152416332686111992014-06-09T18:25:00.002-07:002014-06-09T18:26:32.085-07:00Dear Marine - How I've been emotionally damaged...Dear Marine<br />
I sit here at 2000 pondering what to write to you. The picture of Recruits 5 and 6 you sent "our two peas in a pod" tucked in for the night in the RV on their way to our new home was adorable. I love our peas.<br />
<br />
I look around at all that needs to be done and wonder what was I thinking kicking you all out??<br />
<br />
Then I remember, I am amazing. I have this. And I also remember the reason I kicked you out. It was because of the recipe box 23 years ago. Do you remember that? WELL LET ME REFRESH YOUR MEMORY...<br />
<br />
Once upon a time there was a beautiful young Marine wife. She had just given birth to an adorable tiny princess and was having to pack up her little life and move home with her mom and dad because her handsome prince (Marine) was deploying to Desert Storm.<br />
<br />
The fabulous young wife had the utmost faith in her dashing Marine's ability to pack all she felt she would need back home with her mom and dad during their separation. She was packing for an unknown amount of time but leaving many of their belongings behind in storage in Oceanside, California.<br />
<br />
She was also preparing for your death. I mean her Marine's potential demise. Why? because he was a Recon Marine AND a communicator. Someone had ridiculously told her that his life expectancy in combat was 4 seconds. REALLY??? Who the heck would tell her that? Well I don't remember but some crazy nut did.<br />
<br />
So there was this recipe box. They had received it as part of a wedding shower where everyone provided recipes and the dry goods. Uncle Korean War Marine even gave the young Marine a can opener saying that he knew the women in this family and he knew that if the young Marine had that can opener he would never starve no matter what the new bride tried to fix out of the recipe box.<br />
<br />
The young Marine did not realize what that recipe box represented to the sensitive but brilliant young Marine bride.<br />
<br />
As items accumulated for the trip back home there began to be a great tension in the land. The Marine removed items and the young bride wisely and expertly and dare I say, eloquently, made a solid case for each and every item he questioned. Finally his desperate little beady eyes, I mean seeking eyes, fell upon the tiny, almost invisible yet symbolic recipe box.<br />
<br />
He latched onto it in a desperate attempt to not lose his last man card and to prove he was right that she was packing too much and non essential items.<br />
<br />
He said "AHA, you do not need that recipe box." He thought he had finally found the one item that she could not effectively defend other than to stamp her delicate foot and declare that it was indeed going.<br />
<br />
How could she tell him he was going to die? How could she explain that that recipe box represented the new life they had started together? She knew he needed to know she was strong and valiant and if she were to reveal all it would weaken his resolve to go to war. Well not really because being UA and a deserter is terribly unsat. Anyway... She wanted his last memories of her to be of strength, wisdom and courage. Yes that's better.<br />
<br />
The little family arrived at their destination. He unloaded her and the princess and she began to put away the few meager belongings she had fought so hard to keep.<br />
<br />
She looked and looked for that little tiny, insignificant in size recipe box only to discover the horrid Marine had snuck into the pile of "to go" items and moved it to the "storage" items all with swift, silent, and deadly skill that such men are known for. It was a devastating blow. She staunchly made it through that deployment and many more in the next 25 years. However it made a lasting impression on the tender and impressionable young wife. So much so that it affected certain decision making skills...<br />
<br />
SO THAT IS NOW WHY I KICKED YOU OUT AND I'M HAVING A NERVOUS BREAK DOWN.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklpqSBDu-fYg43XDP0HbJqtZGW8UPmYqFiXQHYjdobkvjnGufXo6Hr6arKiRQEYYajTZOdnmWjn073ICOCU0LSirXSEA1x4BL4M7DZczdnN-mtKE7rxs5c3R58OIOfF3aw1Qg3LLGpFWe/s1600/IMG_3785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklpqSBDu-fYg43XDP0HbJqtZGW8UPmYqFiXQHYjdobkvjnGufXo6Hr6arKiRQEYYajTZOdnmWjn073ICOCU0LSirXSEA1x4BL4M7DZczdnN-mtKE7rxs5c3R58OIOfF3aw1Qg3LLGpFWe/s1600/IMG_3785.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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Love,<br />
Your darling forever companion. FOREVER COMPANION....Do you feel it?<br />
<br />
<br />Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-22279420899428886182014-06-08T18:36:00.004-07:002014-06-08T18:36:59.169-07:00Confessions of a Missionary Mom<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoC-2WdUO2WQbcXwioxMmq9VtsLB_CfjmOJEkeekdKZHFn_cv6dEkHqnZOosWPLN-ghHEvJZgZDSbEaYjwmkevrwBL9AEa2392mowhBqfW9oDSW-pcQ6gPt9sLzdpLD3sRrXA3Xnt6JAq/s1600/DSCF0553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoC-2WdUO2WQbcXwioxMmq9VtsLB_CfjmOJEkeekdKZHFn_cv6dEkHqnZOosWPLN-ghHEvJZgZDSbEaYjwmkevrwBL9AEa2392mowhBqfW9oDSW-pcQ6gPt9sLzdpLD3sRrXA3Xnt6JAq/s1600/DSCF0553.JPG" height="320" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have no idea why this<br />
piano is in the yard.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My son. My sweet, wonderful son who is currently serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, he never ceases to amaze (surprise) and inspire me.<br />
<br />
I have loved watching him grow from afar. His emails, letters, and Facebook posts have woven together a picture of sorts of his journey from "greenie" to seasoned missionary.<br />
<br />
His writings have matured and his understanding of the Gospel and Christ's love for all His children has been wonderful to read. And then one day you see the title of a blog post that says <a href="http://sunwardsoul.blogspot.com/2014/06/confessions-of-missionary-dont-tell-my.html" target="_blank">Don't Tell My Mom</a>. It opens with "if anyone has an inappropriate family it's me..." WHAT??? However in the end he redeems himself and I laugh with him AT us.<br />
<br />
Buuuuutttt.... I'd like to take just a minute to clarify somethings.<br />
<br />
1. It wasn't just Dove Soap. One day while living in El Paso, Texas Recruits 1 AND 2 both were in need of a little vocabulary cleaning. Recruit 1 climbed the stairs to her room spitting and wailing and gnashing her teeth about how awful it was. Recruit 2 followed close behind saying "you know, it's not that bad once you get used to it.". It was then I knew I had my work cut out for me. In their defense this has been a challenge for their mother, I am working on replacing 'burn' words with big SAT words. One time Recruit 2 told me "mom, your so much smarter than that word." Just recently Recruit 4 said "that was just uncalled for". I have smart children.<br />
<br />
2. Poop is important. I am a firm believer in healthy body systems and mothers need to know these things. I can't help it if I had mostly boys and they are inherently gross. And funny, but mostly gross.<br />
<br />
3. Recruit 4 swears he's the one that hickied Recruit 6's head. I told you that's why <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcKKy5QSDA06qFneExW9Q87QcE4OOorSxGPDPH_cXwYNY_ProGvmlDNtEdrXUtsjKRbVk4AI28-lJI4YbICQepSfmUty1Kx4MKb6qCvXNr7BYcENxAmtt7zgUVobwdp8LYdXq9kV7Ye8n/s1600/IMG_5624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcKKy5QSDA06qFneExW9Q87QcE4OOorSxGPDPH_cXwYNY_ProGvmlDNtEdrXUtsjKRbVk4AI28-lJI4YbICQepSfmUty1Kx4MKb6qCvXNr7BYcENxAmtt7zgUVobwdp8LYdXq9kV7Ye8n/s1600/IMG_5624.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recruit 4</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I need to blog. My children will tell my history wrong. And now I really don't know who did what. Elder Recruit 2 your power is great you have siblings believing your version of the past and when you go to fix it, they refuse to believe you.<br />
<br />
4. In spite of the family secret now revealed in the blog o'sphere that my family is inappropriate (I say normal) I am fully supportive of Elder Recruit 2's message.<br />
<br />
God is a loving wonderful Father in heaven and is waiting for us to make good choices. He WANTS to bless us and sends us help in so many ways. If we ever feel God is far away from us, maybe we should consider that we are far way from Him. He will never leave us, but we often turn from his loving guidance and<br />
his commandments thereby distancing ourselves from his blessings.<br />
<br />
As night closes in here in this beautiful state we have called home for the last ten years I can't help but feel my Saviors love and see God's hand in my life. The advance party leaves tomorrow by 0830 (Grandmother, The Marine and Recruits 5 and 6). Our house is rented, The Marine has a job, no one has gone to jail and we are all well (mostly, I am fighting some nasty something).<br />
<br />
This in spite of the tear stained cheeks of Recruit 3 as she begins the rounds of saying goodbye to her friends, my splitting headache and upper respiratory infection, the dwindling bank account, the trials of moving, vehicles, short fuses, anxiety, excited children nervous dogs, goodbyes yet to be said, 2500 miles of hwy between each of us and an unknown future, address or friends waiting to be made.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizsmFIzKx6yAdCxnS7mWqG5sxrX7Qx5_IHlCdQ5nRKvAgCqKIWaC4jTSzvZwfsnVaGFDtr8JkX08gxxWZDX7gzaRUHxgG_gwUJWUniDt34rqCeCoQls59xdq35oAZPvzPX3i_r0Dqxlnhp/s1600/IMG_9952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizsmFIzKx6yAdCxnS7mWqG5sxrX7Qx5_IHlCdQ5nRKvAgCqKIWaC4jTSzvZwfsnVaGFDtr8JkX08gxxWZDX7gzaRUHxgG_gwUJWUniDt34rqCeCoQls59xdq35oAZPvzPX3i_r0Dqxlnhp/s1600/IMG_9952.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kisses</td></tr>
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Tonight I feel peace and love, what's even better, even though a few hours ago I was making faces behind The Marine's back because I was annoyed, it doesn't change the fact that I not only love my sweetheart I still LIKE him and am glad he is mine as we face this next chapter of our lives together. My heart is full and my cup runneth over.<br />
<br />
And yes, my family is fabulously inappropriate! ;)Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-56734709437676689812014-06-07T19:12:00.000-07:002014-06-07T19:12:06.473-07:003 Down 3 to Go!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Today we watched Recruit 3 graduate. For real. It happened. She is our third to get through the hallowed halls of high school. We secretly high five over her head this morning as we prepare to make our way to our high school's football stadium.<br />
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It was a beautiful Saturday to celebrate the graduating class of 2014. Sitting in the stands I reflected on the joys of motherhood and the goodness that is parenting. </div>
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No not really. I have three more to get out of the house and they are all boys. I really don't have time or energy to reflect... at all.</div>
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We are missing a few of our family folks, Grams, Elder Recruit 2, Recruit 1's fabulous husband and other aunts, uncles and cousins. However we are blessed to know they wish they were with us. </div>
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Meanwhile back at the church building we had a luncheon for our three graduating seniors and their families. I have to say, all the food was yummy, great company and the high light was this amazing Neapolitan cake. Sister Cake Baker outdid her self. I mean coconut, strawberry and chocolate were beyond delicious. </div>
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Now begins the packing up of our ten years here at this duty station. I did reflect on how blessed we have been to have the family and friends in our lives the past ten years. Military makes friends family and this duty station has been no exception. A little piece of them goes with us and I know pieces of us stay here. Seriously, I am pretty sure the 273rd dump run ensures parts and pieces of us will be here long after we have all passed on.<br />
<br />
And my reflection on motherhood as I listen to Recruit 1 sing with big Red and Recruit 4 jokes and for once the two of them are enjoying each other's company and not having a war of words and almost fist. I reflect that God is good, family is forever and how much I really LIKE my kids.<br />
<br />
<br />Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-15931593080788027622014-06-06T18:34:00.000-07:002014-06-06T19:03:59.049-07:00Life with a Retired Marine!<div>
*Note - recently I have felt bad not keeping up on my blog aka my story to my posterity. I am attempting to (once again) pick up the proverbial pen and record my history because my kids tend to tell it wrong!</div>
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Times they are a changin'!<br />
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The Marine is on a Mission Impossible Marathon. Not Tom Cruise's either. Recruit 1 has introduced her dad to Netflix. He found THE OLD Mission Impossible. He's addicted. 7 years worth of episode are running on his tablet. I have to say the thematic music is quite entertaining. I keep looking over to see what is happening but then I am lost... lost in the crazy amazing sixties hair styles. I don't want to watch the old Mission Impossible. While I think Tom Cruise has turned a strange corner in his life and I know longer hope to run into him on the street, I do enjoy his movies. But those aren't on. And I turned off cable. So I'll blog.<br />
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The Marine retired. My life as I knew it ended on 13 February. He was home. ALL the time. He has no troops. He had no office. I still worked. The problem is I work from home. We had to have a talk. I told him he was invading my space. He told me it was his space. I said I'm at work. He said your in the kitchen... I sighed. Loudly. </div>
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We had to have another talk. I told him he was bugging me. He told me I was inefficient. I told him stop watching. He told me he couldn't. I then made the mistake of asking why not. He answered, rubber necking at train wrecks or traffic accidents was part of the human condition.</div>
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I was not alone when it came to adjusting to the constant presence of the Marine. Recruit 3, now a senior in high school and only in school for a half day was also trying to figure out how to deal with the attention we were now receiving. The first few days of The Marine NOT going to work Recruit would come home, forget he had retired and ask "why are you here?" The Marine in a somewhat offended and annoyed tone would say "I live here, it's my house is that okay?" </div>
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Recruit 3 would sigh and cut her eyes, but wisely kept her mouth shut... most of the time. </div>
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Finally the day came when she could contain herself no more. The Marine needed troops. I refused to be his troop. By default and because she was home earlier than everyone else, Recruit 3 became his troop. It all came spilling out as she yelled in frustration "when are you leaving? Don't you need to go get a job?!"</div>
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The Marine calmly explained he had decided to extend his time at home. I remained calm, he refrained from laughing and Recruit 3 retreated to her room in deep despair. </div>
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Finally, March 24th arrived. Recruit 3 and I waved as The Marine left in his new Ford Fusion. The big grey truck was dying a loud, smokey death so we put it out of it's misery in exchange for fuel efficiency during our transition from active duty to the world of retirees. The Marine was leaving for Texas. He was on his way to Recruit 1's house to begin the job search. </div>
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I was ready for things to move forward but it had been a while since I had been home without The Marine in town. I hadn't seen much of him in the last four years due to his job with the Marine Corps and his church calling as the Bishop the last 21/2 years for our church. But he had at least been in the same 95 mile geographic area with us. I wondered if I was going to be able to manage all that still needed to be done to get our home ready to be sold, keep it up to show potential buyers (which I knew would be just truckloads waiting to tour my kingdom...) </div>
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What you need to understand is if I didn't want to do something all I had to do was look inadequate, flail around and whine. The Marine would, in disgust and annoyance, say "stop stop just stop. Move, just let me do it" and there you go. I could retreat to my room and watch my shows while whatever task I had decided I didn't want to do would get done. In record time and quite well. Four years of flailing my arms around and moaning was now looming over me. Had I lost my edge? </div>
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I went to bed wondering what the next few months would bring. </div>
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Sometime during the night the switch flipped. Just like that I woke up in deployment mode. It was amazing. I bounced out of bed, got the kids up, made it to seminary and started the next few months off with a bang. It was good to know the skills I accidentally developed during many separations from my Marine over the last 25 + years were not lost. </div>
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The adventure of transition had truly begun!</div>
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Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-45819255246282075272013-03-30T18:52:00.002-07:002013-03-30T18:52:43.837-07:00Easter weekend 2013 - Saturday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been a good day. Recruit 1 will be here by the end of this week with the two reds. I am looking forward to having these two tiny people in my home! I am learning what it means to have joy in your posterity! We are in for a busy week, but all of it involves good things and I am amazed at how blessed we truly are! Even when Marines turn cranky. I'm not sure why I bring out the cranky in him... but sadly I do.<br />
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So today was supposed to be a day of work. I had everything planned. Sort off. I have a work trip to DC and since it's spring break the Marine is coming along with me and we are bring Recruits 4-6. In preparation, because we live on the edge of the world, I typically have to pick my rental car up Friday or Monday. So I had PLANNED to get it yesterday (Friday). I also needed to get my hair cut and we had a church social to go to. A potato bar. I signed up to bring something. I'm not sure what.<br />
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So I ended up being at the hair place for two hours, was trying to get home so the Marine and Bishop was not late to church, realizing I still had no idea what I had said I would bring. I ran in, threw on some make up, changed my shirt, threw everyone in the car, screamed around corners to the church, ran in side announced, rather loudly, in the kitchen I had no idea what I was supposed to bring so what did they need? Sour cream. Got it! Recruit 4 and I ran back out and as I was pulling into the grocery store parking lot at 6pm on the nose I realized I had not gotten my rental car. I called, QUICKLY, but no answer. Seriously? They close at six. I really thought my rental car peep would wait for me. I rent like almost every month. I discovered in that moment, I was really not that special.<br />
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So I thought no worries, the recording says they're open tomorrow 9-12. (that would be Saturday, if you remember in the beginning of this post I mentioned I had to get a rental car either Friday or Monday. There is a reason for that.<br />
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So this morning the Marine drives with me to the rental car place. Locked up as tight as a stinkin' drum. THEY ARE NOT OPEN ON WEEKENDS. I knew that, but the erroneous voice message had given me false hope. I called the town 11 miles to the East of us, the guy whose name is TRAVIS was apparently about to spontaneously combust. Evidently he had triple the people this morning wanting cars than he normally had. My towns rental office is a satellite office of his rental office, so I innocently asked "well, what happened to the car I had reserved last night?" I seriously thought his head was going to pop right off over the phone. The Marine could hear him all the way on the other side of the truck.<br />
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So I called the town 19 miles to the West of us. I was put on hold. We sat in the parking lot. On hold. The Marine began to describe to me his cocnern about my personal business organization. The conversation went down hill. All the while the recording from the rental car company playing in the background about how fabulous they were because they were a family owned business and how well they treated their customers any time any where any day. I suggest we just drive there and show up. We stopped and filled the truck up. THE BIG DIESEL TRUCK. That's important because it takes a minute or two for that thing to fill up. I was still on hold.<br />
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We drove almost all the way to the airport location when Charles, the rental guy finally came back on. Sure I can help you, come on in. I said we'll be their in two minutes.<br />
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We pulled into the airport, I went inside leaving the cranky man in the truck. It was the wrong rental car place. Who knew there were two? No Charles in sight. There was however a lovely lady named Lori. I said Lori, listen, I'm in some trouble here. I need help. I CANNOT go back out to that enormous truck with that cranky old man and tell him there's no Charles in here. We are approximately almost two hours into this little errand to pick up a rental. Please, please tell me I can just get a car here.<br />
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She hesitated, looked over to the counter where all the other reservations were lined up, looked back at me. I looked at her. I tried to not beg with my eyes. She finally said, okay let's see what I've got left. YAY!!!!<br />
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I started the paper work for a Jeep Patriot. Not my favorite, but it was a car. And I was creeping up on two hours what should have taken 15 minutes. I ran out, grabbed the Marine's driver's license and finished up the paper work. I walked out with my new BFF Lori and waived at the Marine. I had the keys, he didn't need to wait. But he did. What a sweet man. He must have been worried something else would go wrong and he didn't want to strand me.<br />
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I chatted happily, walked around the car, looked inside. It's brand new, and only had 1100 miles on it. I heard the Marine drive up where my BFF and I were chatting away. He rolled down the window. I thought he want's to see the car I was getting. Lori laughed and waived at him and said no worries, all is well! He didn't respond. He didn't smile. He just starred at me. I thought "what the heck is wrong with him". He held out his hand. Oh, he wanted to hold my hand, but that is totally weird. What is WRONG with him???<br />
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He raised an eyebrow. I suddenly realized I still had his driver's license. OH! "here you go honey, (giggle, laugh) Didn't realize I still had your license!" I handed it to him. "I wondered why you hadn't left..." He shook his head, took his license and drove off. I looked at Lori shrugged my shoulders and said "Marines, what are ya gonna do?"<br />
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The day continued much better after that. It ended with a lovely family dinner and then family prayer in which Recruit 6 asked that we be blessed with a safe trip to "see the amazing things in D.C. and have good family bondage". Nice.Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-49307122508791351042013-03-28T23:27:00.002-07:002013-03-28T23:27:44.944-07:00When insomnia attacksIt's 0220 in the morning. I've been reading old blog posts. The Marine is snoring to my right and I think the little red dog is under the bed scratching. At least I hope that is him.<br />
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I received one of the nicest compliments today. Recruit 4 came into the bedroom when I was reading an old blog post and he said "you know mom, I really liked your blog, I wish you would write some more".<br />
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He is definitely sweet on occasion!<br />
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As usual there has been some time between posts and it's been filled with a lot of life. Recruit 1 has had another baby, another boy with fabulous red hair, Recruit 2 has been out on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints for almost 5 months, Recruit 3 is about to wrap up her junior year and I just put her on a plane to go visit Recruit 1. Recruit 4 will be starting high school next year, Recruit 5 is playing lacrosse and getting a temper, and Recruit 6 while a little older than the last time I posted is still my baby and still thinks he is going to grow up to be a ninja.<br />
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The Marine is still my Bishop, but in a year's time will put away his uniform and become the Retired Marine. This next year is going to be filled with preparation for some major life changes for the Marine and I. It's been a long time and the only life we have known together has been with the Corps in the middle of it.<br />
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Where will we go? What will we do? Well, the possibilities are endless. While I know this next year will bring some new stresses, it's also a little like the weeks leading up to Christmas. The future is in beautifully wrapped gifts with big bows under the warm glow of white lights sprinkled throughout a tree decorated with memories and symbols of our life.<br />
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I am going to stand in this moment of endless possibilities and dream. The world is our oyster and right now at 0229 in the morning, anything is possible!<br />
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~Kelli<br />
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<br />Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-16734475746835141972012-08-25T20:29:00.000-07:002012-08-25T21:18:28.330-07:00Happy Birthday Marine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Marine hasn't figured it out yet, and quite frankly, I just realized it when I saw the date on my computer. Today is the Marine's personal Marine Corps Birthday. The day he went into boot camp. The day he got off the DI's bus, stepped on to the yellow footprints and became a man. Okay, well started the journey. He was only a lowly worm recruit, but a short time later he received his Eagle Globe and Anchor and earned the name Marine.<br />
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A name he has honored for the last 26 years and I have no doubt will continue to honor it. Even when he is 80 years old and addled minded. He'll still know enough to stand at attention for the National Anthem and the Marine's Hymn.<br />
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I have learned a lot from him over the years. Leadership, attention to detail, integrity, hard work, you quit when the job is done, not when it's 1630, trust in your gear, training, and fellow Marine, or in my case Marine Wife. Those traits have gotten us through a lot of deployments, separations, (because of training, schools, and exercises), and many moves.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Marine with Recruits 1 and 3. Daddy's girls.</td></tr>
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People ask how I feel about certain political situations. Sometimes as a Marine Corps family there's not a lot of time to argue politics. We are too busy caring for those around us, strengthening and uplifting our children, our Marines and their families.<br />
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It's been a good life, one I wouldn't trade. It is one of sacrifice, and in the middle of deployments sometimes it seems too much, but in the end we are stronger, learn to dig deeper, and love harder than we might have ever been able to otherwise.<br />
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His leadership in the home, at church and in the Marine Corps is part of who he is. The man is not separated from the Marine, the Marine from the man, or the Priesthood holder from either. He is still on his journey and as retirement looms in our not so distant future, I know there are adventures still to be had.<br />
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Happy birthday you old gungy gruff, wonderful stubborn infuriating and valiant man! We are a little thicker than when we started down this road, but I'm glad we are still traveling it together!<br />
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Love,<br />
The Wife ~<br />
PS you can only call me THE WIFE until midnight tonight. After that I get to smack you!<br />
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<br />Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-4689801458047207042012-08-19T22:53:00.001-07:002012-08-19T22:53:33.153-07:00The Marine and his STUFF<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Marine has a new title. Well new since Thanksgiving weekend 2011. He is now a Marine AND our Bishop. I'm married to a Bishop. Go ahead and a take a moment. I know right? It's hard to believe that in spite of me, the Lord called him to serve in such a humbling, responsible, and incredible calling. It has been a beautiful blessing in our family and it's an experience like no other. I'm trying to be good, really I am. I don't want to make things harder on him. BUT, there are some things that will never change.<br />
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For instance, The Marine's complete anxiety at me touching anything mechanical or electronic of his <a href="http://kelliskrazyeights.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-wearing-your-pajammas-and-driving.html" target="_blank">to include his TRUCK</a> and his computer stuff. Typically when the Marine's truck decides it needs to take some sick days, <a href="http://kelliskrazyeights.blogspot.com/2009/07/marine-ford-and-tow-truck.html" target="_blank">it does it when he is gone</a>. It's one of the few things I get "the look" for. Even if it's not my fault, which most of the time... it's NOT.<br />
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Today however was a fabulous day in church; great talks, good friends, and right after church the youth and parents gathered in the Relief Society room to watch the video/slide show we had put together that was shown at youth conference this past week.<br />
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Before that could happen I had to run home during the third hour and get a lap top. I had forgotten it. The closest one and the easiest one to grab was THE MARINES. Oh yes I did.<br />
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One of our Stake Presidency members and his fabulous wife visited us today and when I got back I found my Bishop Marine husband chatting in the very first classroom I had to pass. I had his lap top under my arm.<br />
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He was distracted for a moment wanting to know where Recruit 2 was. (I had taken him home, we are all suffering from head colds/allergies or something equally nasty). I hadn't told him I was taking Recruit 2 and expected an eye brow raise, but then he spied <b>it</b>. His Toshiba - under my arm.<br />
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THEN I received the eyebrow raise. One would think I would play it off what with our special guest and all sitting right there. Nope, not me, stuff just happens. Instead of being meek and humble I hugged it tighter to my body and said "oh yeah, that's right, I'M TOUCHING IT" and then I sashayed away.<br />
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In the end my brief victory was thwarted as I couldn't get the movie to play and the Bishop husband had to take over and make it work. eh, it happens.<br />
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Pretty much the eyebrow looks something like this, but only a little less friendly....Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-59974175945262511382012-02-04T20:54:00.000-08:002012-02-04T20:59:48.297-08:00Summer 2011: Trip back homeWhen we went home for the summer, we took Luke and Scratch. I was heading home with the kids to welcome Recruit 1's baby boy to earth! We took our time driving the 1500+ miles. On the road trip out it was just Grammy, (my mother in law) Recruit 4 and Recruit 6. And of course the pups!<br />
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I stopped early enough thinking it would be an adventure to let the boys swim some before dinner and we could all get a good nights rest. What I didn't count on was LUKE freaking out in the hotel room. Our room's window faced the pool, so I opened the window. Now he could see his boys in the water. Um, yeah, anyone wondering if I had forgotten he's a full blooded, home grown LABRADOR. Water is one of his greatest joys. And his boys are just over a fence in water. Without him.<br />
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He tentatively put a paw out. I admonished him and slunk back into the room. See the dark head in the picture below? Old Scratch was wanting to check things out too. <br />
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There's Recruit 6 who was getting concerned about the dogs. I was just annoyed. Not only was Luke trying to get to the pool, he was being very vocal about it. Not a manly bark either but a yippy puppy bark. <br />
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Old Scratch couldn't get up in the window. His hips are bothering him. He did however manage a random old man dog bark. Just think of what James Earl Jones would sound like if he were a lab. That is who I think of when Scratch finally deems something bark worthy.<br />
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There's Recruit 6, who is the main reason I felt we needed some down time. 25 hours in a car with him isn't always conducive to good mental health.</div>
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But seriously, look at that face. He and his brother were both wonderful on the trip out there. <br />
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Recruit 4 finally couldn't stand how upset the lads were getting so he climbed through the window to comfort Luke.<br />
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Grams was hanging out by the pool the whole time while I ran between the window and the pool. I was glad to have her on the trip!<br />
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Recruit 6 thought it was safe to get back in the pool, that Luke understood he couldn't join him.</div>
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Yeah, Luke was right back up there ready to leap out. He's spotted other folks in the pool, he was quiet for about 2 minutes. So we ended pool time earlier than we meant to. Fortunately the time we did spend outside unwinding from a day of driving was just enough to have the desired effect. Recruit 6 was passed out which meant a restful evening for the rest of us!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFdD_QmdphikdWWkNK9dFkQoN92HWqmEXfBUX9Y_WkV4EWi6JaaO17GLP5pwjd99fcNLvknRtc5dPRti-_JzjKdFhOOyf1nWzEh9cfgi3-8HLda7FVu5Ihm5h3URFJKEEzjY4Kj6M-9iM/s1600/IMG_1155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFdD_QmdphikdWWkNK9dFkQoN92HWqmEXfBUX9Y_WkV4EWi6JaaO17GLP5pwjd99fcNLvknRtc5dPRti-_JzjKdFhOOyf1nWzEh9cfgi3-8HLda7FVu5Ihm5h3URFJKEEzjY4Kj6M-9iM/s320/IMG_1155.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-58317172910925953582011-12-28T08:17:00.000-08:002011-12-28T08:17:32.603-08:00Marine Corps Ball, Holidays, and Career<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So first of all MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! I am quite pleased to say everyone was home for Christmas to include my wonderful Mother. She isn't in the picture because she was not feeling well and went to bed a little earlier. I only have a second to pop in but wanted to share our family, because they are fun! and wanted to share where I've been blogging lately:</div>
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I am now an official blogger for Military OneSource. I love writing and life has been crazy and not allowed me the time to write. So I am fixing to cheat. I want to post the "official" blogs I've been writing for military lifestyle on the Military OneSource Blog Brigade, and who knows... I might just find the inspiration and time to get back Krazy Eights!!!<br />
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Military Life<br />
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<a href="http://blog-brigade.militaryonesource.mil/2011/12/22/road-to-retirement-when-your-service-member-is-home-more-than-gone/" target="_blank">When Your Service Member is Home More Than Gone</a><br />
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<a href="http://blog-brigade.militaryonesource.mil/2011/11/18/road-to-retirement-reflecting-on-the-marine-corps-ball/" target="_blank">Reflecting on the Marine Corps Ball</a><br />
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Some Holiday Posts<br />
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<a href="http://blog-brigade.militaryonesource.mil/2011/12/19/road-to-retirement-where-did-your-joy-go/" target="_blank">Where did your joy go?</a><br />
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<a href="http://blog-brigade.militaryonesource.mil/2011/12/20/road-to-retirement-when-kids-leave/" target="_blank">When Kids Leave</a><br />
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<a href="http://blog-brigade.militaryonesource.mil/2011/12/20/road-to-retirement-setting-expectations-for-your-teens-during-the-holidays/" target="_blank">Setting Expectations for your Teens During Holidays</a><br />
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Careers<br />
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<a href="http://blog-brigade.militaryonesource.mil/2011/12/28/road-to-retirement-juggling-home-career-kids/" target="_blank">Juggling Career and Family</a><br />
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<br />Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-86391339846757965872011-09-06T19:34:00.000-07:002011-09-06T19:34:42.750-07:00Sweet Sixteen and never.... oh well, Sweet Sixteen...<br />Today is my number 3 Recruits Sweet Sixteen birthday. She received her birthday in sections. Sunday we gave her a present. She, insisted, or maybe I insisted... I don't remember. Below you see her a whole year ago. She has had quite a year... But I think her birthday pictures from THIS year reflect who she is truly becoming....<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recruit 3 on her 15th birthday</td></tr>
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<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/AVvXsEij1CGuKrsBTonjfdndhs3tETdPLVWohjqNfX00T43W_SHNBWOHmp4NTAzs2TlumUwGuM0SEWV9EVU7eWjwPVjPVuCEgzM_5BUguUv8DD40MFoq7TZsNtB4DWuXom4g1UZm0EFBH7i2wTzD/s1600/IMG_6650blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij1CGuKrsBTonjfdndhs3tETdPLVWohjqNfX00T43W_SHNBWOHmp4NTAzs2TlumUwGuM0SEWV9EVU7eWjwPVjPVuCEgzM_5BUguUv8DD40MFoq7TZsNtB4DWuXom4g1UZm0EFBH7i2wTzD/s400/IMG_6650blog.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Should I worry?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisVwyWX9vK_YfOakYemlUOqXd6JWvD6oysAphyztagL6BV1TdnFDt7qxI3F63jnTTaVuvcFvva3OiiBLcL0QIQwUf5946RoWRAVImYQHtCk_nlsQo8Kbsuc03laU6297Adz1CdYSZ7DtZN/s1600/IMG_6655blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisVwyWX9vK_YfOakYemlUOqXd6JWvD6oysAphyztagL6BV1TdnFDt7qxI3F63jnTTaVuvcFvva3OiiBLcL0QIQwUf5946RoWRAVImYQHtCk_nlsQo8Kbsuc03laU6297Adz1CdYSZ7DtZN/s400/IMG_6655blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She had a friend over. Just one. It's a school night. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlezk4oVDbPFv205WklB4ZkBjfyfnVRWu6CDOa22Qs6mfhoTsv1KZAQpUlBgpSILmibnzH_WZY_odDrqhf6-UGA4kgPKxxMu0MjWahV2DL4V12z29qwcHf0kAAHDlRlxJBbOWfrPe2WW-R/s1600/IMG_6660blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlezk4oVDbPFv205WklB4ZkBjfyfnVRWu6CDOa22Qs6mfhoTsv1KZAQpUlBgpSILmibnzH_WZY_odDrqhf6-UGA4kgPKxxMu0MjWahV2DL4V12z29qwcHf0kAAHDlRlxJBbOWfrPe2WW-R/s320/IMG_6660blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are no words....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Actually, this child is quite a beauty when she isn't snarling her nose or shoving icing in her mouth...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bHyF2J7LUr92CyRYT9p8ql7fHrKxS1uW4m7lUS5HFCk1kXMFShCVLAIy1IR-EnsVn12GofXYr3Y0VKodTpzg8o0CAw2AzNs8lboxkYveKSMdWcoh2WFLs7iMkuZ__wIuaIMD2oH5Vd2L/s1600/IMG_3848tu.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/AVvXsEg2bHyF2J7LUr92CyRYT9p8ql7fHrKxS1uW4m7lUS5HFCk1kXMFShCVLAIy1IR-EnsVn12GofXYr3Y0VKodTpzg8o0CAw2AzNs8lboxkYveKSMdWcoh2WFLs7iMkuZ__wIuaIMD2oH5Vd2L/s400/IMG_3848tu.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXaVMbVCYhyEGAvAZ1sSEy56zMS1J88B2DcWcB5PUYhH_o_W-NBlrUKvzy1ywZfmx51CbUG3Q0iZPjVmx6WXJ63lAsunM_upSRa5rjgd1WikDkP-MwpkwnGsc04YboUSHu2dACtEmIatsu/s1600/IMG_3828tu.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/AVvXsEjXaVMbVCYhyEGAvAZ1sSEy56zMS1J88B2DcWcB5PUYhH_o_W-NBlrUKvzy1ywZfmx51CbUG3Q0iZPjVmx6WXJ63lAsunM_upSRa5rjgd1WikDkP-MwpkwnGsc04YboUSHu2dACtEmIatsu/s400/IMG_3828tu.jpg" width="266" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmW0qVU4Nd0JlGGE6a_dXL_htpvEeUlX53tDnguLTrqdtNDlEYGb0IDxRHfNMgQ6bs6KFyOfF15uYfmjoXXWgibm68opbaUxyGMDuApvqMKbxVOK5r3K-_a9WuJJ0fwfEa-55ZkeVLG6AM/s1600/IMG_3849tu.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/AVvXsEgmW0qVU4Nd0JlGGE6a_dXL_htpvEeUlX53tDnguLTrqdtNDlEYGb0IDxRHfNMgQ6bs6KFyOfF15uYfmjoXXWgibm68opbaUxyGMDuApvqMKbxVOK5r3K-_a9WuJJ0fwfEa-55ZkeVLG6AM/s320/IMG_3849tu.jpg" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPjqK0CZZxYMC5jNPtyMfQdRkBXFoURwynvCTUDn3agRnC3Q9Zv2smChsUFcoIS-pz7-c5Jhlf1uypeQ0Hcy98GWwhuWFpVsMVF3LWDkNZe85cHXMJtKnYB2r5PE6dPbUINa-HGIY8l_P/s1600/IMG_3832tu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPjqK0CZZxYMC5jNPtyMfQdRkBXFoURwynvCTUDn3agRnC3Q9Zv2smChsUFcoIS-pz7-c5Jhlf1uypeQ0Hcy98GWwhuWFpVsMVF3LWDkNZe85cHXMJtKnYB2r5PE6dPbUINa-HGIY8l_P/s320/IMG_3832tu.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
This morning I wished Recruit 3 happy birthday... Via Facebook. We were leaving for seminary and she was MAKING ME LATE...<br />
and as we were leaving she said, "you didn't wish me a happy birthday!" I looked at her and said, "yes I did, I did it on facebook"....<br />
My how they don't like it when the tables are turned.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1y064gD3zWc-ZQ77aLrtJ7Lc7eX8YmCnoGc_agVw2xoX1FmeIXmcA5EH1FuDHLfz55ejf8d0kJLiJxYXE2T_Owij4UkXKW4ikzpRImLnWfMr1gi6RYUFnXOlvcMeSw_e4jOkgN5KMlsqM/s1600/IMG_3859tu.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/AVvXsEj1y064gD3zWc-ZQ77aLrtJ7Lc7eX8YmCnoGc_agVw2xoX1FmeIXmcA5EH1FuDHLfz55ejf8d0kJLiJxYXE2T_Owij4UkXKW4ikzpRImLnWfMr1gi6RYUFnXOlvcMeSw_e4jOkgN5KMlsqM/s400/IMG_3859tu.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
This child has always been the enigma. When ever I say<br />
that, she always has to look up what enigma means. You'd think she'd remember. It's an enigma to her....<br />
<br />
<br />
I want to wish Recruit 3 a wonderful and eventful and joyous<br />
year 16 of her life! I'm so glad she is mine!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0efnvQTytYg75x8cs-KeE1LvpnpdxbDUkaOWc0R7ELgU2FmOSZHolFxr29fPiQyl2E-uVHrTo3pGIEYUkeqL9DK3EoErEj0181iRep5yLxgKV0Pw5FnVMRXojKTOicAMoOF4jWJmi2uU/s1600/IMG_3871tu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0efnvQTytYg75x8cs-KeE1LvpnpdxbDUkaOWc0R7ELgU2FmOSZHolFxr29fPiQyl2E-uVHrTo3pGIEYUkeqL9DK3EoErEj0181iRep5yLxgKV0Pw5FnVMRXojKTOicAMoOF4jWJmi2uU/s400/IMG_3871tu.jpg" width="266" /></a>If the Marine could move her off his truck he would have... He had already left to head back to Marine Land with the boys. Football season was starting. Recruit 3 and I had the truck! I'm totally serious. It's a whole blog worthy entry I know... </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKONWVvvMwWVT81R8claVYNalhExEba5c2X_EhG3HHIV1AIgpkho7vHtaw4cdod55XsVdFqEssyjvANAPWvD5monsaLrQ81NMquNiJ13g5Hjs28tL10FPMkGKb918ZTi_OlXuG5rz3_Zf/s1600/IMG_3873tu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKONWVvvMwWVT81R8claVYNalhExEba5c2X_EhG3HHIV1AIgpkho7vHtaw4cdod55XsVdFqEssyjvANAPWvD5monsaLrQ81NMquNiJ13g5Hjs28tL10FPMkGKb918ZTi_OlXuG5rz3_Zf/s640/IMG_3873tu.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the sass in these purple boots are just but a small part of what's in the gal wearing them...</td></tr>
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Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-57926712706610663372011-03-17T19:10:00.000-07:002011-03-17T19:35:21.361-07:00Hurricane Preparedness with Recruits<div>Hurricane season often gives our family a chance to work together. Usually in the 11<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> hour getting ready for an impending hurricane. Or the potential for an impending hurricane. I took these last year and never took the time to post them. So, I'm sitting in the den listening to something about heavy artillery. Not by choice.</div><div><br /></div><div>The guy just said the "the thing about heavy artillery is it's heavy..." Oh my gosh... I could have written that text... Anyway, back to hurricanes. I'm blocking out the Military Channel.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let me walk you through my pictures. Here you see the Marine giving direction and guidance to the recruits. We have to make room in the garage for our fence. It's an awful vinyl fence that has to be taken down every hurricane. It's a pain. The reason, it's awful and vinyl and we live on a corner lot. The winds whip through here like... well like a HURRICANE! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Ib-eXES9FTxlB3nNXpVEntC9Gy1zP2EiM1bqBrFmhH2GlinYiv3xWVXsJtflzWpJC4BxA6UTySTAX8NMFw0-UVdY-AjP6eJUjelZA3x5gdQjdS2Ok0-ut5uqK5f-bFlhXGAv5e9iiYw6/s1600/blog4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Ib-eXES9FTxlB3nNXpVEntC9Gy1zP2EiM1bqBrFmhH2GlinYiv3xWVXsJtflzWpJC4BxA6UTySTAX8NMFw0-UVdY-AjP6eJUjelZA3x5gdQjdS2Ok0-ut5uqK5f-bFlhXGAv5e9iiYw6/s400/blog4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237711279162898" /></a><br /><div>Everyone works. The two little recruits had on their headlamps. They were ready for a power outage. At any moment. They blinded me several times. They blinded The Marine. I haven't seen their headlamps recently now that I think about it... Note to self, hurricane season is starting again, get new headlamps for recruits.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jVFXSUC3Oar8YIoeAXpVjlzck39Dctc0-qFtfnKdiqScSgfwLg1YZX57IDPZApYXDtgm7upTpLgKQpi8zhfYVELHWj2gWQAG_vB65nmzJnjXRz4SfJmddkINEub7pcpw8hPPiltK6V_U/s1600/blog5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jVFXSUC3Oar8YIoeAXpVjlzck39Dctc0-qFtfnKdiqScSgfwLg1YZX57IDPZApYXDtgm7upTpLgKQpi8zhfYVELHWj2gWQAG_vB65nmzJnjXRz4SfJmddkINEub7pcpw8hPPiltK6V_U/s400/blog5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237713012579650" /></a><br /></div><div>The Marine continues to guide and educate the Recruits. See the paint can in his hand. He's not holding it up for hurricane preparedness. Someone had spray painted the shelves on the other<br /> side of the refrigerator and freezer you see in the garage there. Someone did it. No one admitted to being Someone.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ngMiycwQ9_DJaRHjHZZHwTDBVBnncAYdoFo-fxJlFhEGWVTbw1w5z9YI-I0QPgYtrE_HWi0YulfkfMgraQEbqWH6avnGgkf54JxBMgPX9mraTpsilXmTzGKxM0L_8tntFpLfnWfMWCHF/s1600/blog7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ngMiycwQ9_DJaRHjHZZHwTDBVBnncAYdoFo-fxJlFhEGWVTbw1w5z9YI-I0QPgYtrE_HWi0YulfkfMgraQEbqWH6avnGgkf54JxBMgPX9mraTpsilXmTzGKxM0L_8tntFpLfnWfMWCHF/s400/blog7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237701980113154" /></a>What I think is hysterical, only because I was behind the camera and not helping, is the Marine asks, "WHO SPRAY PAINTED THE SHELVES". Then he is surprised No One speaks up. So now they all get the talk. I don't remember the details of the talk. But the talk usually follows the same format. 1. What the offense is; 2. what he is going to do to anyone caught committing said offense; 3. and finally what will happen to EVERYONE if it happens again, usually involving horrible and undesirable body part removal.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReji43nxfbGxacQ6OvKqJb9ZIDWGY4eEcdEoiw8zmGfyst9h0QGwib54CHhBDOeiUDLmdcDjr8tsbiYMmGvx0ftJH0f29vcCL3blAVlwYZgNJoRkYCiVJlILvETelhRG6bEpItG3GLCwa/s1600/blog6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReji43nxfbGxacQ6OvKqJb9ZIDWGY4eEcdEoiw8zmGfyst9h0QGwib54CHhBDOeiUDLmdcDjr8tsbiYMmGvx0ftJH0f29vcCL3blAVlwYZgNJoRkYCiVJlILvETelhRG6bEpItG3GLCwa/s400/blog6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237703710049874" /></a><br /></div><div>Recruit 2 working, you can see it's not exactly a pleasant climate out. Hurricane season is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">inconveniently</span> during warm and humid weather. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1VS0y_lq7yL8WTVRTHEnbUgyM66Yo_HhX0reFngvWTkdLGOG0Nr32HAQrrbHgM2Dey4ln-0zz6B21-AWF3lUNtNZanAH8D6HFBvLc-n4FuketA3xBEzju1CCGCgJSAjaauuQHdj3gbWv/s1600/blog8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1VS0y_lq7yL8WTVRTHEnbUgyM66Yo_HhX0reFngvWTkdLGOG0Nr32HAQrrbHgM2Dey4ln-0zz6B21-AWF3lUNtNZanAH8D6HFBvLc-n4FuketA3xBEzju1CCGCgJSAjaauuQHdj3gbWv/s400/blog8.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237449287902274" /></a>Recruit 3 was helping too. I was still taking pictures. It was important for posterity.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjby5zZh79UEFL7ecp1fbZR7L2huiSEQYj7GeDiRBW3G1XlOklEuWN2nNUoPQ5Cn5BhFTNi0U-H0fFwfSd0CeytO4MKFQfDGXaEEu0Tn3hUsD8TBjVkmVOhawLB8zkfl4lmeAwvdqkP-4iF/s1600/blog12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjby5zZh79UEFL7ecp1fbZR7L2huiSEQYj7GeDiRBW3G1XlOklEuWN2nNUoPQ5Cn5BhFTNi0U-H0fFwfSd0CeytO4MKFQfDGXaEEu0Tn3hUsD8TBjVkmVOhawLB8zkfl4lmeAwvdqkP-4iF/s400/blog12.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237445108649186" /></a>At one point Recruit 6 is distracted. I wasn't sure what was going on, so I watched him. I thought maybe a ball or something had rolled under the bush.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuTdKHKiTDGezcsGbhUr5tYnM6nSu6FntRILbRWgemkCUGYYye2enQHNLG0iFzpHU9WMuq-aekcl1e4RRY_FwUY1CjjTfDXcr0WPkdEz307gDiZ_uSrI8FQMy31_euhEFMuMPVv0Y4YjA/s1600/blog1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuTdKHKiTDGezcsGbhUr5tYnM6nSu6FntRILbRWgemkCUGYYye2enQHNLG0iFzpHU9WMuq-aekcl1e4RRY_FwUY1CjjTfDXcr0WPkdEz307gDiZ_uSrI8FQMy31_euhEFMuMPVv0Y4YjA/s400/blog1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237446088044850" /></a>He was still busy crawling around and had called Recruit 5 over. I stopped him for a picture.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6oWTr6b0S0is52HWsZvAtMzcDGWKEGRDp3cGUhxg5BT0KDWR1b5eMsJpf7RKwyLXm3pKZSnU2hcebUK4KxJgYZ-MQ1gjMSLONU62syZM94d7ZydsTMIf3EK_Fh6iZARjixMGdawtfjZNV/s1600/blog2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6oWTr6b0S0is52HWsZvAtMzcDGWKEGRDp3cGUhxg5BT0KDWR1b5eMsJpf7RKwyLXm3pKZSnU2hcebUK4KxJgYZ-MQ1gjMSLONU62syZM94d7ZydsTMIf3EK_Fh6iZARjixMGdawtfjZNV/s400/blog2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237443386434418" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><u><span><span>Now I realize that they are actually looking AT something instead of FOR something.</span></span></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6oWTr6b0S0is52HWsZvAtMzcDGWKEGRDp3cGUhxg5BT0KDWR1b5eMsJpf7RKwyLXm3pKZSnU2hcebUK4KxJgYZ-MQ1gjMSLONU62syZM94d7ZydsTMIf3EK_Fh6iZARjixMGdawtfjZNV/s1600/blog2.jpg"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLyPbf9xyMQMM45ijyvAJvguvFxACK3DvjIa8r9khCdPnSL4icP50sXbvDGz_NFrEuhFhumtgVs8C2gQnkF3EKxT-RejioPwv0cHmA1pmoV_g5OiOhNfNy2VOwIbiOYs6-OIFdJnhw0YJ/s1600/blog9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLyPbf9xyMQMM45ijyvAJvguvFxACK3DvjIa8r9khCdPnSL4icP50sXbvDGz_NFrEuhFhumtgVs8C2gQnkF3EKxT-RejioPwv0cHmA1pmoV_g5OiOhNfNy2VOwIbiOYs6-OIFdJnhw0YJ/s400/blog9.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237137488413426" /></a> </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Yay</span> for mom and her headlamps. They came in really handing when checking out a bush in the dark when they were supposed to be helping prepare the yard and the house.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhikXwpLjpgTF9T4IhK4Ocw1MMGAnEljHegzUZMNBQ7wzVc9N6tS1xcNFd_p-uxezKr3rwtJZ_Oq24TpGmQeL4vjYaZ0hHUKfFfCsBwumWhahUIrc9cSbOu-ken2BCXcvXpOvGN7P1rBjF/s1600/blog10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhikXwpLjpgTF9T4IhK4Ocw1MMGAnEljHegzUZMNBQ7wzVc9N6tS1xcNFd_p-uxezKr3rwtJZ_Oq24TpGmQeL4vjYaZ0hHUKfFfCsBwumWhahUIrc9cSbOu-ken2BCXcvXpOvGN7P1rBjF/s400/blog10.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237135415741282" /></a>And what were they checking out? A disgusting Frog. They made me squat down there and take a picture of it!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWqoD0ABmD28_gekKkPMKU9zxWr24j8tPkDnyxGsWgtrLzUKmhFYrdTKtfcIxpFlv2-_D0xNvQvPywZWoEcLYENRcD2SRZJSITWEsSwIoHqq_KxU6tpDNz9K9etbbxpyp2UGUqPBGS7nU/s1600/blog11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWqoD0ABmD28_gekKkPMKU9zxWr24j8tPkDnyxGsWgtrLzUKmhFYrdTKtfcIxpFlv2-_D0xNvQvPywZWoEcLYENRcD2SRZJSITWEsSwIoHqq_KxU6tpDNz9K9etbbxpyp2UGUqPBGS7nU/s400/blog11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237126768327474" /></a>Then we had to do a posed photo of them together. With their headlamps. I love hurricane preparedness. I love headlamps! I've got to go to the store...</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWAkyueXj_HaFWLF36zVlZZwurCkwVfHKsoAE-hqAhNTKbCjY7eBFP1kgIiE-WEIPz7lHUEaEv4imczVPRaTYHJfjfvrH-_BEeTnPnnNSdLl0AmHVngKERay0bd8i2whxbUPt8W-wIEei/s1600/blog3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWAkyueXj_HaFWLF36zVlZZwurCkwVfHKsoAE-hqAhNTKbCjY7eBFP1kgIiE-WEIPz7lHUEaEv4imczVPRaTYHJfjfvrH-_BEeTnPnnNSdLl0AmHVngKERay0bd8i2whxbUPt8W-wIEei/s400/blog3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585237128708871890" /></a><br /></div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-45397089847752039912011-03-07T22:38:00.000-08:002011-03-07T22:53:05.496-08:00This is a BAD DOG<div>I couldn't find Luke. I kept calling him, then I looked out the back door. He was a very very naughty puppy.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Emb5SzCq1yzDPlAh4FRVJyoG4gBO0rH3lY7baocXLdLQNa7qBkjrtEzhUPPtZBnBac8fsxKYz11wrg0SA7Cjh-1hfvsblslwOOMQgp-__l5rwnAJvb31-HNsW4mJfa1bZkmQNJ-w59Xk/s1600/lukeblog3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Emb5SzCq1yzDPlAh4FRVJyoG4gBO0rH3lY7baocXLdLQNa7qBkjrtEzhUPPtZBnBac8fsxKYz11wrg0SA7Cjh-1hfvsblslwOOMQgp-__l5rwnAJvb31-HNsW4mJfa1bZkmQNJ-w59Xk/s400/lukeblog3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581596713167376802" /></a>But he looks so handsome and regal! He usually jumps up and runs to me when he sees me.<div>I'm thinking he was thinking if he just stayed really still I wouldn't see him.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGR5FWvuRJ7RbJeDWxxpU6-2cJeo7tm-vlRW9WNvHhQUxoWXYYGugCcrriQitqSjiqYzaZ036Vx3fMPdxyK59YyahZPcd4Dya7Sz_FzJpVqZStcX4zpocUi127Zj4v4tq8-k9pYUEGg-y/s1600/lukeblog1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGR5FWvuRJ7RbJeDWxxpU6-2cJeo7tm-vlRW9WNvHhQUxoWXYYGugCcrriQitqSjiqYzaZ036Vx3fMPdxyK59YyahZPcd4Dya7Sz_FzJpVqZStcX4zpocUi127Zj4v4tq8-k9pYUEGg-y/s400/lukeblog1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581596711638518018" /></a>He only moved enough to pull his head back a little but NEVER took his eyes off me. He really should have been barbecued for this.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WDDelnrWPsxL_VrVrEXvkF1wUdsMTHaw4zTLmX7hepSkfJSWHSCu05YHDb216U76thD-eTDCNOxi8n-Mnc9GLk_UAcGlUKGIPfUgY8Rlcm_oxMHuYc3cRvohxugKVgGS-xo6M23boxad/s1600/lukeblog4.jpg"></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WDDelnrWPsxL_VrVrEXvkF1wUdsMTHaw4zTLmX7hepSkfJSWHSCu05YHDb216U76thD-eTDCNOxi8n-Mnc9GLk_UAcGlUKGIPfUgY8Rlcm_oxMHuYc3cRvohxugKVgGS-xo6M23boxad/s1600/lukeblog4.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WDDelnrWPsxL_VrVrEXvkF1wUdsMTHaw4zTLmX7hepSkfJSWHSCu05YHDb216U76thD-eTDCNOxi8n-Mnc9GLk_UAcGlUKGIPfUgY8Rlcm_oxMHuYc3cRvohxugKVgGS-xo6M23boxad/s400/lukeblog4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581596702873815650" /></a>To make matters worse, I could recognize the toilet paper, but I have no idea what else was torn up or where the back to that office chair came from.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8izF7boaoGE64mHMgXeZkMrDOQbjY1uX-hQMw6jh5Pbjxbg0nbw7KVrt9ct_DlcC0gW8ayTz1xgTfRj7MNsfcFxPg1kSMLwxuIcWQqKu0cfZ6a89Zzw7f58MsAdmHbBPSL7f-ZVXRKh8Q/s1600/lukeblog2.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8izF7boaoGE64mHMgXeZkMrDOQbjY1uX-hQMw6jh5Pbjxbg0nbw7KVrt9ct_DlcC0gW8ayTz1xgTfRj7MNsfcFxPg1kSMLwxuIcWQqKu0cfZ6a89Zzw7f58MsAdmHbBPSL7f-ZVXRKh8Q/s400/lukeblog2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581596701764700370" /></a>Sigh... Boys and puppies. There's a lot of clean up involved...</div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-83883104433360922552011-03-06T20:15:00.000-08:002011-03-06T20:33:43.200-08:00HODGE PODGEI was looking for a picture to write about and none jumped at me today. So I decided to write about church with The Marine. He usually sits on the end with maybe ONE child between us. This leaves me with the others all to my left. <div><br /></div><div>I end up missing half the talks because I am busy shoving boys off of me, snapping my fingers a the older ones, and saying SHHHHH a lot.<br /><div><br /></div><div>I have also been getting tapped a lot lately. Tap Tap Tap. In fact, this is not the first post I have written about being tapped. I really can't stand to be tapped. I even gave them options tonight at dinner instead of tapping me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today I was tapped by three of them almost simultaneously. Again the Marine looks at me as if I am the most intolerant woman on the planet when I exclaim in a stage whisper "STOP TAPPING ME".</div><div><br /></div><div> In addition to being tapped out... LOL, sorry a little wrestling humor which I only know about because Recruit 6 was sitting on Recruit 5's back one day yelling "TAP OUT TAP OUT".</div><div><br /></div><div>As I was saying. In addition to being tapped out, I was hot. Not like "ooh baby" hot, but like "oh my gosh I am going to pass out Peri-menopausal" hot. I know the Bishopric saw me fanning myself like crazy with my print out for my Sunday school lesson. I think they thought it was funny. I didn't see them smile, but the Marine was laughing at me and they are all in cahoots. I could feel it.</div><div><br /></div><div>So what was the Marine's solution? He made me move to the end seat and put himself between me and the children.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was moved. Not emotionally moved, but physically moved. By the Marine.</div><div><br /></div><div>He says he was protecting me. I think he was isolating me and protecting them. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was actually nice. The Marine had to lean over several times. AND Recruit 2 was drawing on Recruit 3's dress because she wouldn't circle the words he found looking over her shoulder at her word search. (It was a New Testament word search in case people are wondering why she was doing a word search in church). </div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine gave Recruit 2 the eyebrow. Recruit 2 gave the Marine the "grin". I sat on the end and fanned myself trying to catch the Bishop's eye to tell him I was hot and going to pass out. The Bishop didn't see me.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine did. nuts.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine: "Who are you talking to???"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "no one"</div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine: "Yes you are."</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "nuh uh. I was singing the hymn..."</div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine: "No you weren't you were mouthing to the Bishop you were going to pass out"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "Well so, it doesn't matter he didn't see me anyway, and besides, I am going to pass out"</div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine: some sort of disgusted grimace at my irreverance. Probably the lying too, but I'm not sure. I didn't bring it up again. </div><div><br /></div><div>I did stop trying to send the Bishop a message though. Next time I'm just going to go punch the button for the controller and make it cold. </div><div><br /></div><div>So then after sacrament I taught the 12-13 years olds for a friend of mine today. They weren't as bad as I expected. Recruit 4 is in there. He was just as bad as I expected. However he answered some of the questions and accurately.... He is an enigma.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 3 and I left before the third hour started. She got hit on the side of her face with the lacrosse ball yesterday and her jaw/ear area hasn't stopped hurting.</div><div><br /></div><div>We got x-rays. She is just bruised/sore. But the x-ray tech, one we have never seen before amazingly enough had heard of Recruit 3, or rather the avulsion fracture she had to her occipital (occiput) bone on the back of her head in December from a fall during cheer practice doing the death dive stunt. She is famous. or rather her skull. The crack head.</div><div><br /></div><div>I came home and took a fabulous nap. I need it. Nothing beats a Sunday nap....</div><div><br /></div><div>Now I am ready for bed. 0500 comes early in this house and the week starts again!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. I think the Marine was protecting me today. I've decided that's what I am going with.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-29443832607678736022011-02-27T14:25:00.000-08:002011-02-27T15:00:52.224-08:00Recruit 6 and Sacrament<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijklHHLiMMY-FjeUyFGYiPvPQLIVUd_9KNNqdp5gGLeyag0Ji6j0oq8HEe-PaheyX8Szu4CbY71GsLti9jvdYoYGKiJr5Tn2HvDLU5cuSflD0UlHMl_SxOqc9Y9CQ6yQm6NUeyaQBjcr4m/s1600/Sundayblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijklHHLiMMY-FjeUyFGYiPvPQLIVUd_9KNNqdp5gGLeyag0Ji6j0oq8HEe-PaheyX8Szu4CbY71GsLti9jvdYoYGKiJr5Tn2HvDLU5cuSflD0UlHMl_SxOqc9Y9CQ6yQm6NUeyaQBjcr4m/s400/Sundayblog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578507821710275666" /></a><br />Every Sunday we attend Sacrament meeting. Every Sacrament meeting with the exception of Stake conference or General Conference which each occurs twice a year, we have the opportunity to receive the sacrament bread and water. This is not a new or unusual event in Recruit 6's life. In fact, it's as familiar to him as any other family activity, event, or tradition we have. <div><br /></div><div>So it never fails to amaze me when one of my children need additional teaching about Sacrament and why we are there. It also never fails to be DURING SACRAMENT when we have these lessons.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6 "When are we eating?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "What?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6: "I'm hungry"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "shh, we are not eating, you get a piece of bread and little cup of water and your supposed to be thinking about Jesus right now."</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6 slumps back, picks up his church back pack, unzips it and pulls out a giant conch shell Elder "E" gave to him last Sunday before he left on his mission. He holds it up to his ear. I ignore this. Mostly because I was touched Elder E gave it to him and because I miss Elder E too. And if it would keep him still and quiet then super.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6: "Mom, Mom, MOM, MOM" <poke poke=""> </poke></div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "STOP IT, shhhhh, WHAT?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6: "Mom, um... you can hear the ocean. Do you want to hear it?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "no thank you."</div><div><br /></div><div>The sacrament prayer is given and the bread is being passed. Recruit 3 passes the tray to Recruit 6 who starts to grab with his left hand. We teach our children to take the sacrament and pass the tray with their Right hand. I correct him. This throws him off. Completely.</div><div><br /></div><div>He drops the piece of bread he had picked up, became agitated and now didn't know what piece to take. So he fishes around.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 3 is trying not to laugh. I'm having a hot flash and getting irritated. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine is in prayerful, peaceful contemplation next to me completely unaware, or ignoring us. </div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6 locates the piece of bread he is actually going to take and passes the tray to me and I hopefully grabbed the first piece he had put back. I can't do anything about all the other pieces he hovered over. I apologize to those behind us today. Which is most of our side of the chapel. We are in the fourth row of chairs from the front. He took a bath a few days ago. His hands were fairly clean.</div><div><br /></div><div>We pass the tray on and Recruit 6 leans over: "I need water".</div><div><br /></div><div>I just look at him.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6: more insistent, "I need to get water"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "We are fixing to bless the water. Just hush"</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6: "Well can I have a big cup? Do we get the big cups?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "NO" (last Sunday they ran out of the regular little sacrament cups and we had to use bigger ones and he was annoyed because he was not one of the recipients of the bigger cups that day either.</div><div><br /></div><div>The water is blessed and passed without incident. The first speaker begins their talk.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6: "I need water, can I go get water?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "No"</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6 takes out his shells, his pens, his paper, zips his back pack, pokes me a couple of times, packs everything up zips his backpack back up, sits on me, gets off of me, sits on me, pokes me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6: "Mom, Mom, Mom" <tap tap=""></tap></div><div><br /></div><div>I really was about to lose it. Meanwhile on my right side sits the Marine oblivious to it all, or ignoring us.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: poking Recruit 6 in the chest repeatedly. "Do you like that? STOP poking me... now what?"</div><div><br /></div><div>He giggles and says noooooo. I didn't mean for him to giggle.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6: "If you break something, it's still something"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "True" I turn back to the speaker.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6 goes on. "Like a dollar bill, if you crumple a dollar bill, it's still a dollar bill."</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "True" both times I acknowledge him and return my attention to the speaker.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tap Tap Tap "MOM"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: about to completely lose it not to mention the hot flash setting in. "What?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6: "Can I go get some water?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "NOOOOO"</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 6 with big green eyes gazing up at me somewhat mystified as to my response, "But why not? It's so good for my body?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I turned away from him. Took a deep breath and turned back and explained he could go once Sacrament meeting was over. He could get a drink then before his class. </div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile the Marine is annoyed at me for all the movement and my obvious growing irritation and impatience with our precious son. The darling.</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine: "You need to relax and just let him do his thing"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: with a hiss "You are completely unaware of what is happening here, and I am hot and he has been touching me repeatedly and zip zip unzip unzip zip zip... I cannot take much more."</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine: "That's because I am focusing on the talks" and said with a very pointed tone of voice at me. As if I am purposely playing around. Oh that smug old man. I wanted to poke poke poke him a few times. I refrained. I was starting to sweat. He gave me that "ha, your in menopause look". I wanted to poke him harder.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile I have now raised his awareness of the zip unzip poke poke poke and he leans over, and tells Recruit 6 in a VERY MEAN, all Marine-y voice to put it up and set his backpack down. Recruit 6 is now completely wounded and begins to cry. The Marine steps in to assist me just as the closing song is being sung. I've already endured over an hour of this. NOW he helps? </div><div><br /></div><div>And I have to get Recruit 6 quiet by the end of the last verse so no one hears his sobs during the closing prayer. We are not in a very big chapel. </div><div><br /></div><div> I'm sitting at the other end of our row next Sunday. </div><div><br /></div><div>Alone. </div><div><br /></div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-69479484454422824442011-02-26T04:01:00.000-08:002011-02-26T04:15:42.304-08:00Too earlyIt's Saturday morning and I'm up. I didn't need to be up as early I am, but Luke thought I needed to be. He jumped on the bed, sat on Recruit 6, who sometime in the night snuck into my "pocket", and then rolled over him, stretched out next to me, and started licking. Everything.<div><br /></div><div>Me, Recruit 6, himself. And not in that order.</div><div><br /></div><div>I finally got up to let him and Scratch out, but I had to stand at the door because a panel on our fence blew down yesterday. So I was assaulted by early morning February air. </div><div><br /></div><div>I did attempt to crawl back into bed between the Marine and Recruit 6 (if someone didn't understand this blog that whole sentence is just wrong) and I laid there for thirty minutes really wanting to fall back asleep. </div><div><br /></div><div>I couldn't, my mind was awake and the following thoughts, all at once were running through it at a high rate of speed.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I need to get my taxes done"</div><div>"I need to fill out the FAFSA" (or whatever those initials are)</div><div>"I need to pee"</div><div>"I need to fill out the insurance claim forms from the cars being broken into"</div><div>"My house stinks"</div><div>"Recruit 6 stinks"</div><div><br /></div><div>It was all too much. So I got up and checked out Facebook. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes that really stresses me out. Especially if there are any potentially contentious posts. I just click through them.</div><div><br /></div><div>So now I have to really get moving. We have a full day of Lacrosse and I need to make a to do list for Recruit 1 and 4. They are taking care of the little boys today since the girls all have a Lacrosse game in another town. The joy would be to see if they actually look at my list.</div><div><br /></div><div>My BF is bringing her camera with us to the girl's game. I get to touch it, so maybe I'll have some pictures of our adventures today to load up later! Sigh... one can dream...</div><div><br /></div><div>In the meantime, I have to go awaken the Marine. That is always a dicey move. </div><div><br /></div><div>I did scare him though early early this morning. I guess I startled him awake by snoring in his ear. At least this time he just informed me I had startled him instead of going all mean and nasty forcing me to use bad words. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I grunted and turned over to snore in Recruit 6's ear. He likes it, he snuggled into my pocket and sighed deeply as only a 6 year old can. It made me jealous.</div><div><br /></div><div>I having nothing of value to add to this post. I am just procrastinating to avoid what I know is next. The awakening of the beasties, to include husband and sons.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wish me luck...<br /><br /></div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-16092044607700898292011-02-24T19:56:00.000-08:002011-02-24T20:49:03.023-08:00Thrilling ThursdaySo today is not even a day I can begin to describe. Suffice it to say it was busy, challenging and filled with many little "seriously???" moments. Two of which I'll share.<div><br /></div><div>First one. and I have to provide some background:</div><div><br /></div><div>I have always been gifted with words. Writing, speaking, yelling, screaming... whatever. Rarely do words fail me. It is possible however, I could maybe, sort of, out talk a few folks. I don't know. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've also always been very sensitive, so when my mother-in-law and sister-in-law said one day they saw the perfect t-shirt for me, I was flattered. Until they described it. It was a stick figure</div><div> ( I was very thin once upon a time) with a flip top head, mouth wide open and the caption on the shirt said, "HELP! I'm talking and can't shut up!" I was sad. I really was. </div><div><br /></div><div> And I don't remember but probably told them so in 3000 words.</div><div><br /></div><div>So. Lately, I've been having issues with my jaw popping and cracking and it has progressively gotten worse. I mean to the point I can't chew, open my mouth, yawn, snort, giggle, or grimace without a pop or a crack. </div><div><br /></div><div>I finally made it to the orthodontist today. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have to get a splint. </div><div><br /></div><div>For my jaw. </div><div><br /></div><div>What's worse. I had to call The Marine and tell him I had to get a splint.</div><div><br /></div><div>For my jaw. </div><div><br /></div><div>The comments and jokes and wisecracks have only just begun to roll in.</div><div><br /></div><div>Event number two:</div><div><br /></div><div>I was all ready to head to Recruit 2's first Lacrosse scrimmage tonight. I had blankets, extra jackets, and the video camera. As I pull to the end of our street, Recruit 2 calls. I answer with "What did you forget, I just left the house!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 2 said "Mom! The jeep overheated and I'm broke down on the hwy" (in the median, not on the side). The Marine told him next time he breaks down and pulls into the median instead of off to the side he was going to just run over him instead of rescue him.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was heading to the practice fields to get Recruits 5 and 6 from their Lacrosse practice when he called me, so I told Recruit 2 to call his Dad and call me back so I would know what to get. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine called, gave me instructions and said he would meet me at the jeep. Now, I'm just frazzled already at this point with the events of the day, to include the fact my face will soon be splinted. </div><div><br /></div><div>Add to that worry and it's getting dark and my Recruit and his friend (of the female persuasion) are in the middle of the highway with an overheating jeep. It was probably on fire! It was probably on Fire and the looky-lou drivers would lose control of their vehicles and crash into my children! OR they would be kidnapped and sold as child slaves to a third world country. </div><div><br /></div><div>As my mind races, my foot drops heavier and heavier on the gas. I finally see the blinking hazard lights in the distant and zip over and pull in behind the jeep. As I do bright blue lights of a state trooper zip over and pull in behind me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Seriously??? Because of the recent theft, I do not have my driver's license and I have no idea how fast I was driving. My heart was in my tennis shoes. Like under the insole. I was walking on my heart. </div><div><br /></div><div>He doesn't get out of his vehicle. Which I thought was odd, so now I was actually worried about moving around too much. I didn't want him to think I was trying to escape.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 2 obviously didn't have the same fear because he started pulling out the water, and radiator green fluid I had brought. I walk back to troopers car, slowly, with my hands showing and empty. I've seen cop shows.</div><div><br /></div><div>and he asks if we need help. Ah... It's the only time I've had a state trooper pull over behind me and not frown at me while whipping out a ticket pad.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was probably speeding and so I was more than happy to hear him ask if we were okay and what was going on. He was keeping us safe by sitting there with those seizure inducing lights flashing and not asking for my license, insurance and registration. It was a whole new experience for me! </div><div><br /></div><div>I tell him what is happening and that the Marine will be there shortly. He said he would stay until we got out of the median. And he did. Blue lights flashing the whole time. I had to not look at them. I would have needed Kepra or some other anti seizure med...</div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine arrived, took over and we discovered there was a nice size crack in the radiator. I told the Marine I would drive the jeep home and Recruit 2 could take the van and all the kids and they could all continue on their way and go to the game. I would be fine.</div><div><br /></div><div>I knew how to pull over and pour more water in the radiator.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yep, didn't work too well. I hadn't gone a full mile and I had to pull over. I pulled into a "fuel market" and opened the hood. Steam rose out of the jeep in a big cloud. </div><div><br /></div><div>A helpful fellow offered me advice as I was filling the radiator up with water. He suggested I go in and ask for an egg. It would just "seal that baby right up". Or, "pepper will do the trick too, just dump a whole thing of pepper in there." </div><div><br /></div><div>Why thank you kind stranger who must be high.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am happy to report I did not do either. I did however call my insurance company and discovered I have towing coverage. Rock on, tow man cometh and take me home. </div><div><br /></div><div>While waiting for the tow man, I called the Marine and told him my plan. He said if that's what I wanted to do, but sounded somewhat uneasy about having left me to handle this, at my insistence.</div><div><br /></div><div>What he probably doesn't get is being alone outside a well lit, but somewhat sketchy, fuel market, all alone (yes I said it twice) was actually not a bad way to spend the evening. However I realized then I didn't want to ride with the tow man. What if he was a secret rapist? Or worse... I'm not sure what is worse, but what if? </div><div><br /></div><div>So I called one of my BFs. </div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "Hey BF, whatcha doin?"</div><div><br /></div><div>BF: "Eating dinner"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "Well how would you like to meet me at the ____ sketchy Fuel Market and wait with me while the tow man comes and picks up the jeep?"</div><div><br /></div><div>BF: "Well alright, I'll be right there!"</div><div><br /></div><div>And that was it! She left her dinner and came to hang out with me. As we pulled out of the parking lot of the sketchy fuel market, BF pointed down a side road and said, "see, right down there a month or two ago a man had the crap beat out of him and died."</div><div><br /></div><div>Well BF, I am glad you waited till we were pulling out to share that tidbit with me! Otherwise I would have felt compelled to practice my Ninja moves outside your suburban like Recruit 6 does and quite frankly I was really just too tired for that. </div><div><br /></div><div>I did get to go back to her house and eat her left over dinner though and the Marine joined us. Super nice! It was delish and the company was even better!</div><div><br /></div><div>So now I am just finishing up a breakfast casserole to cook at 0500 tomorrow for my seminary class, winding down from the eventful day, and blogging all at the same time. </div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 4 and Scratch are snoring on the couch, the Marine just set the alarm on the house and retired for the evening. All the other Recruits are in their respective beds, I wasn't raped by a motorcycle gang at the sketchy fuel market, and Recruit 2 didn't break an ankle at his first scrimmage. Today is closed down and labeled a success! </div><div><br /></div><div>I can only imagine what tomorrow will bring!</div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-61278988186491911572011-02-22T18:34:00.000-08:002011-02-22T19:15:00.900-08:00"I love to see the Temple... I'm going there some day...."<div>In December, when Recruit 1 came out for Christmas, she came in time to attend the Temple on a youth Temple trip with our family. It was Recruit 4's first time to attend the Temple and it was our families first time to be in the Temple together with four of our six children. The Temple we attend is about two and a half to three hours from where we live, so it's always an adventure.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.ldschurchtemples.com/">The Temple</a> for Latter Day Saints is a holy and sacred place. It is a wonderful place to go, grow, and draw close to the Lord. As converts to the church the Marine and I look back in awe those 18 odd years ago when our family was young and small. To look at these pictures now fills me with joy and happiness. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's appropriate that I post this tonight because the Marine and I finished up teaching the Temple Prep class for our ward. It has been wonderful to spend time with the Marine twice a week for three weeks teaching and preparing others to attend the Temple. Plus he's really cute and I love watching him teach... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWq1mNsvjJCSf7gGEw4fxWWVIQTeyxx4FBQ-Jn8v2fnRTDs-q76Xdr_WFIoYf5RqK1P5pP7NV4gr4vZLMlTg-SmkcqHy16wfkKKryXDWMqwNXcZVhfr_F4ja-Axv35LbJGE1HFBSRWXZqk/s1600/blog1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWq1mNsvjJCSf7gGEw4fxWWVIQTeyxx4FBQ-Jn8v2fnRTDs-q76Xdr_WFIoYf5RqK1P5pP7NV4gr4vZLMlTg-SmkcqHy16wfkKKryXDWMqwNXcZVhfr_F4ja-Axv35LbJGE1HFBSRWXZqk/s400/blog1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709484760418914" /></a>The day we drove to the Temple was cold, and wet and yucky and gross. However you can tell I am tickled to be closed in with my wonderful family and making this trip. It would have been nice if the Son-in-law could have been with us, but he had not yet arrived in town. Something about a job, having to support Recruit 1, I don't know, something like that...<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq7O0LnuQ_NH7wViGQPNBhHf7oqkIAxRW7xRVQJQAOMDZYB1bbqB8qoYm0qV0u9_F7N-wfHSZYsRwrDjkn7Em-ehPR2-YDtiORBrBey3bxbrDtdoSu-TPuONW6UQDuYbIibXdK2wUchmHv/s1600/blog2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq7O0LnuQ_NH7wViGQPNBhHf7oqkIAxRW7xRVQJQAOMDZYB1bbqB8qoYm0qV0u9_F7N-wfHSZYsRwrDjkn7Em-ehPR2-YDtiORBrBey3bxbrDtdoSu-TPuONW6UQDuYbIibXdK2wUchmHv/s400/blog2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709388244860962" /></a>It was nice for the Recruits to spend time together. Craziness abounded and the close quarters brought out the best of everyone! I know these two miss each other. Gross children. What's a mom to do?</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfPoO8JyzEF3yOMa7zevXNEfILPUoAVKdKHp8Ssw-pRibrbRJ4C2KoiM-ryaKoVHyERSneHyH7tne5V0BXJgHaimw9RFnePqH2S0muD6GOCocb-msA3ngf_iwuskmYZab9uvNi0JDaw2zr/s1600/blog3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfPoO8JyzEF3yOMa7zevXNEfILPUoAVKdKHp8Ssw-pRibrbRJ4C2KoiM-ryaKoVHyERSneHyH7tne5V0BXJgHaimw9RFnePqH2S0muD6GOCocb-msA3ngf_iwuskmYZab9uvNi0JDaw2zr/s400/blog3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709388332548194" /></a>Recruit 3 plugged in, but was still participating in family fun. She is such a doll. Sometimes like a barbie, sometimes like a princess, and sometimes like Chuckie from that scary movie I've never seen. The previews freaked me out.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JKuQ6CVELR-7-OtmtuW76l396Vy7qmjvdEhz3PMt82llzRsqcp6RZbL68sfz-dkr941pzjaEg5bzsV5b3l_B1jxMCPgtGD65haKWqP7Xtvxdy7VXwGHiLVTmBkosuRTAjCoHIaL3N0zD/s1600/blog4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JKuQ6CVELR-7-OtmtuW76l396Vy7qmjvdEhz3PMt82llzRsqcp6RZbL68sfz-dkr941pzjaEg5bzsV5b3l_B1jxMCPgtGD65haKWqP7Xtvxdy7VXwGHiLVTmBkosuRTAjCoHIaL3N0zD/s400/blog4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709383338375218" /></a>You can barely see Recruit 4 in the back seat too. He plugged in and ignored us. Pretty typical. He's 12.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TjDF8a_jHLaGI8ceXTgczSFUE_3jz1TmLUdTkb-TSfYLbidxsw9-HkXnCvukFCVkQPupzShwcTGMnrk-16xeI54DxkER5FmJ6OS3FBgdW2f1V9mEhZcuMmIXYjs-yiOSHYq8JpQROQfh/s1600/blog5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TjDF8a_jHLaGI8ceXTgczSFUE_3jz1TmLUdTkb-TSfYLbidxsw9-HkXnCvukFCVkQPupzShwcTGMnrk-16xeI54DxkER5FmJ6OS3FBgdW2f1V9mEhZcuMmIXYjs-yiOSHYq8JpQROQfh/s400/blog5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709383653640690" /></a>We really had to contain him in his excitement for his first Temple trip... He seriously is just to excited for his own good.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4mtb_QEjmNmqiYxhoyksa5COnltg3SO_M5-iUy1EZGExrMnlXbSXlvzvw_W0Q4R2TE_WP1QRQ7tlMIHfCR1T8qw6caoJcLP_nEXmMXQMW1Vq4ZubiULfQoW8PPTKm5rEI_sZcK95qTYg/s1600/blog6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4mtb_QEjmNmqiYxhoyksa5COnltg3SO_M5-iUy1EZGExrMnlXbSXlvzvw_W0Q4R2TE_WP1QRQ7tlMIHfCR1T8qw6caoJcLP_nEXmMXQMW1Vq4ZubiULfQoW8PPTKm5rEI_sZcK95qTYg/s400/blog6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709382067548722" /></a>You can tell everyone is happy to be together, all the beautiful smiles . And Recruit 4, wow, we had to really calm him down! Out of control that one.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ryg4UBem4MXaWwRU1cDQOifyu1tD-QE3r6Qme1BhXMh1h5_pg3O9Z-t4YuJaycNvx5zD3es2S0hhA3xzqD7VNf0mzQ01qHRCjcnRT81cHbuel2Ory3IlJ53vBPRyIaJjIU0kJyL0dKB7/s1600/blog7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ryg4UBem4MXaWwRU1cDQOifyu1tD-QE3r6Qme1BhXMh1h5_pg3O9Z-t4YuJaycNvx5zD3es2S0hhA3xzqD7VNf0mzQ01qHRCjcnRT81cHbuel2Ory3IlJ53vBPRyIaJjIU0kJyL0dKB7/s400/blog7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709157827351666" /></a>If I remember right, we started talking to Recruit 2 about his future. He pretended to go to asleep.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFvfwULjgQ4J-qA7BAm2a6rk6sX620PEOps1EKzgmK8cqalq9S0YCZNkiXB4t5VPdz9vKJnOih1JZA4VPZtAbQage9Xhhov6pfAMfmXNdiJxYUTMM539bpLZa67loUpVInpS0DDbTp3Kzm/s1600/blog8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFvfwULjgQ4J-qA7BAm2a6rk6sX620PEOps1EKzgmK8cqalq9S0YCZNkiXB4t5VPdz9vKJnOih1JZA4VPZtAbQage9Xhhov6pfAMfmXNdiJxYUTMM539bpLZa67loUpVInpS0DDbTp3Kzm/s400/blog8.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709151585549330" /></a>And the Marine! I mean really, could he just be any jollier??? You can tell Recruit 4 takes after his father with all their out of control craziness!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBIxBbSUHziygBV8dz4CqtTPNOEHfhdECYihZRKESqrRPQzjilcCs-TPJYVMQCyGgS52SmBKWDL7Bedpkaea7s93q4wML99HX_0idxy2Z3oFrXFyBA8Tw-V9NhIfZi5WGuBjIMTEQTTpn/s1600/blog9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBIxBbSUHziygBV8dz4CqtTPNOEHfhdECYihZRKESqrRPQzjilcCs-TPJYVMQCyGgS52SmBKWDL7Bedpkaea7s93q4wML99HX_0idxy2Z3oFrXFyBA8Tw-V9NhIfZi5WGuBjIMTEQTTpn/s400/blog9.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709148138594834" /></a>Family self portrait! There's the real Marine. Recruit 4 is there, promise, we didn't throw him out on the highway. You just can't see him.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Au_xKWAGpVK5hUrezqA3r3khM3EcHpK51eMHad7R8vk8YzG__V4mo-RdRENB73jBFJ2WU8_DaMaP6gHbMzJ9anNNTyMBI8XLXUwxSDvmwdK1KMfCH04znBGcyimBcn-Drqhm2K9abY9d/s1600/blog10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Au_xKWAGpVK5hUrezqA3r3khM3EcHpK51eMHad7R8vk8YzG__V4mo-RdRENB73jBFJ2WU8_DaMaP6gHbMzJ9anNNTyMBI8XLXUwxSDvmwdK1KMfCH04znBGcyimBcn-Drqhm2K9abY9d/s400/blog10.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709145843466834" /></a>What a blessing and joy it was to have her home for this day. Wish we lived closer. sigh...</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJwSI5YMcOv7N4lX5dzWS3jahzcyhq34PDOIQO4FXZvBvvN3d-KRIySAf8-cZxPzV5_F-grgXDlOTe2BzgbxIjV5sFPi6x6XJohlNfc1lsYwvyFaJdBl7tGnaot0XLfNV8v8TQJyKQEDl/s1600/blog11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJwSI5YMcOv7N4lX5dzWS3jahzcyhq34PDOIQO4FXZvBvvN3d-KRIySAf8-cZxPzV5_F-grgXDlOTe2BzgbxIjV5sFPi6x6XJohlNfc1lsYwvyFaJdBl7tGnaot0XLfNV8v8TQJyKQEDl/s400/blog11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576709142320327170" /></a>I don't remember, and I don't want to know what caused this look from Recruit 2. I'm sure it was gross.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimj6ltvEQIWbdnmpfQB4cyB4u57vQoB2Gq6ZzGyd_mwDrsFXIpHikIBOzSxMXRsd0cGgCYVdCZP0snFbnxI5tMjSr6fFbtx0hRBtLf7VgcVJI9zKIhwZMtZXr1PGbtP72YlWkijXjMYF0Q/s1600/blog12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimj6ltvEQIWbdnmpfQB4cyB4u57vQoB2Gq6ZzGyd_mwDrsFXIpHikIBOzSxMXRsd0cGgCYVdCZP0snFbnxI5tMjSr6fFbtx0hRBtLf7VgcVJI9zKIhwZMtZXr1PGbtP72YlWkijXjMYF0Q/s400/blog12.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708882178978354" /></a>Now this is a funny story. We are eating before going into the Temple and Recruit 1 had to call the Son-in-law because she spent money at the Book Store and needed to let him know BECAUSE (and this is insane and something we will NEVER have) every time she uses the check or credit card, he gets a text notification!!! NO WAY! The Marine would have had a heart attack if we had that set up. She was "discussing" her recent purchase outside the Wendy's with him while we all ate... and laughed at her.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwXqbVBwVx7p1RxCalhN9XCeMV4e3Bubklv7DsZDMWNwZCqKhF0l3NUzAB3eWNWoOsSmvpkxE_6MsTMR9BoFvMj86pL6az4A7URIBgr9ibPQJB0PkEzBKpw9sgt2PPKFQXw-zlHz4t31Vr/s1600/blog13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwXqbVBwVx7p1RxCalhN9XCeMV4e3Bubklv7DsZDMWNwZCqKhF0l3NUzAB3eWNWoOsSmvpkxE_6MsTMR9BoFvMj86pL6az4A7URIBgr9ibPQJB0PkEzBKpw9sgt2PPKFQXw-zlHz4t31Vr/s400/blog13.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708882290946738" /></a>Even after eating his joy is still contagious. Really, we need to calm him down. People were staring.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmPqTkqGbNElkQq2DnLV6kOcMOZf4Acl8UfV1nTV6oNoE_6Zps0eeNZxsenKvtWKREyYdatVPP-SUHlnUQ3P0pRmWa1_uIF2XlUt1WfXyI-KvZ34RlHk5Y9l9tFjCAES2Z3I0F6RT0aKm/s1600/blog14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmPqTkqGbNElkQq2DnLV6kOcMOZf4Acl8UfV1nTV6oNoE_6Zps0eeNZxsenKvtWKREyYdatVPP-SUHlnUQ3P0pRmWa1_uIF2XlUt1WfXyI-KvZ34RlHk5Y9l9tFjCAES2Z3I0F6RT0aKm/s400/blog14.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708881451300626" /></a>I don't remember, and I don't want to know what caused this expression either. I just wished he had shaved ALL the way. He's just excited he's growing facial hair that connects.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvqcR-12rRwi-QNK9Uw4134o39kj5LH4pmFjwD2mH0tQqX-d78Ol_iZsPR8ohSqpoJ0tBBRZw0Kv9JWXVDmr33lIYIzUVZG0pAUDhoM4vvNZ07WtQ_rbsU6nFK31XVT3NRgcRe6CXytlg/s1600/blog15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvqcR-12rRwi-QNK9Uw4134o39kj5LH4pmFjwD2mH0tQqX-d78Ol_iZsPR8ohSqpoJ0tBBRZw0Kv9JWXVDmr33lIYIzUVZG0pAUDhoM4vvNZ07WtQ_rbsU6nFK31XVT3NRgcRe6CXytlg/s400/blog15.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708879124502994" /></a>Outside the Temple. It's so beautiful and peaceful. I have no idea where Recruits 3 and 4 are. Probably already inside. It was COLD! By the way, we are not wearing white tights. Summer sun, o where art thou?</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqlyIV0x74yp9oCQYBeNStITzHjLbLZ4iScWmUkd3rZ69As-eqDhxFs7osIaRoquNRBoAsv4K2q4d-vPl8-PPlvO_9K7fHO-GQfN0798WD1Lb9XOj6XMKDQcsxuNow_oPwhOl7H3r6Z976/s1600/blog16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqlyIV0x74yp9oCQYBeNStITzHjLbLZ4iScWmUkd3rZ69As-eqDhxFs7osIaRoquNRBoAsv4K2q4d-vPl8-PPlvO_9K7fHO-GQfN0798WD1Lb9XOj6XMKDQcsxuNow_oPwhOl7H3r6Z976/s400/blog16.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708879934813618" /></a>Just a little extra love. You can see Recruit 2 really loves this time with his sister and I.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTG-CV8Hth5zM4U4Df0WwFDdseYaXY35bMX41hyphenhyphenFeq6T2OZEkLsdSZFfql1oYNua3DlnMy_lpubqx8tdpxz_AwLLyVVFIFs5Aer-Y2Gbxi8OBXlqct71VuOojXmTEyh8-9WXd6J4O94gA/s1600/blog19.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTG-CV8Hth5zM4U4Df0WwFDdseYaXY35bMX41hyphenhyphenFeq6T2OZEkLsdSZFfql1oYNua3DlnMy_lpubqx8tdpxz_AwLLyVVFIFs5Aer-Y2Gbxi8OBXlqct71VuOojXmTEyh8-9WXd6J4O94gA/s400/blog19.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708590143296738" /></a>On the way out. Recruit 4 AT LAST is showing an expression. Only problem is it involves his tongue. He has asked several times when we are going back. Never could have guessed that he had a great time!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJQnam_n7N7V28qSozRiO9_oyfqg4peD8b-Y6pDGJro6cv893JzxA5uMqMHP1p9FxRj4GYh-1K0aQ8KYkdLw1xABAnXyuTgZyIgYncBNL-s6ojSudsj0S6g2aGXI-qxaHHh3Gc25jExcg/s1600/blog20.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 383px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJQnam_n7N7V28qSozRiO9_oyfqg4peD8b-Y6pDGJro6cv893JzxA5uMqMHP1p9FxRj4GYh-1K0aQ8KYkdLw1xABAnXyuTgZyIgYncBNL-s6ojSudsj0S6g2aGXI-qxaHHh3Gc25jExcg/s400/blog20.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708588564594226" /></a>Notice the choke hold? Prior to the camera snapping there were softly spoken words of love into his tiny man cub ears. At least I got one decent smile!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialWGOYfkbQ9tqjdphV7JCCs77AoRmBC1WV5_6dzKymvuKn5H6Q499OptHRk_CvTOagZNBRd_JXoAbqP17hJxr8D6OO6HqQxwVAYObYEdzBxt9tHKNhyphenhyphenLXtVSWVjRWQNy_kavTkaG7oV7k/s1600/blog21.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialWGOYfkbQ9tqjdphV7JCCs77AoRmBC1WV5_6dzKymvuKn5H6Q499OptHRk_CvTOagZNBRd_JXoAbqP17hJxr8D6OO6HqQxwVAYObYEdzBxt9tHKNhyphenhyphenLXtVSWVjRWQNy_kavTkaG7oV7k/s400/blog21.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708584096186898" /></a>By the time we got out of the Temple the temp had dropped, there was snow/sleet coming down and we were all quite chilled. But wait, Recruit 4 is actively engaged in a family photo! It was such a beautiful day! It was also quite a pleasant and happy trip. Rare, and not something we can always say with this many siblings stuck in close quarters together. Such cute kids. I decided to keep them all for Christmas.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieV_86RVCs4t7XeqhTZj9LByg32d0U_QjXofocYKl7bq13d2h12dE6bcvKDCpjY2GoHmwy4fhVru9S7OR08WJCiVL2FeIxw4NwUA-By3wvXN6-7gb8qrGJy5lt2d3lqsPXXoIXW1Ri-dxJ/s1600/blog17.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieV_86RVCs4t7XeqhTZj9LByg32d0U_QjXofocYKl7bq13d2h12dE6bcvKDCpjY2GoHmwy4fhVru9S7OR08WJCiVL2FeIxw4NwUA-By3wvXN6-7gb8qrGJy5lt2d3lqsPXXoIXW1Ri-dxJ/s400/blog17.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708581816961522" /></a>These last two pictures represents what is important to me. Of course I'm missing a few family members, but you get the point, and they were there in my heart. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUGgHAxknyCARmoDe8BzLGyOPTpQWZ-Ptp7k0AT4-xC5JjTE_T8zyAY9j8g6A_rt9V2YnJ2SH82ZIuJ1fFOjoeU4RNEy6WpUpKOp2MmG3KoKlZJNRzjoz6SmE4xXi6nMM2oi3pIDGcbPT/s1600/blog18.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUGgHAxknyCARmoDe8BzLGyOPTpQWZ-Ptp7k0AT4-xC5JjTE_T8zyAY9j8g6A_rt9V2YnJ2SH82ZIuJ1fFOjoeU4RNEy6WpUpKOp2MmG3KoKlZJNRzjoz6SmE4xXi6nMM2oi3pIDGcbPT/s400/blog18.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576708577276991650" /></a>P.S. Recruit 4 is not disabled. He is just being a toot and his new thing is to mess up every picture he can. I love these people! </div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-128462657127777292011-02-21T14:19:00.000-08:002011-02-21T15:19:12.498-08:00What Does a Marine Family Do During the Holidays?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsw1cF0oL74xKUiRt-YTHbaPEN-kCNJ-eoMscqBTVXsH4TAM62rTIIv8481ll7ov6T3Sb7tULLSzmfUdk8fiHk5W5MiRygx7lXMXPjFDBXxR2VkUC0tL4zj3UuLql3Vp_M0seXZPgawQMQ/s1600/blog1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsw1cF0oL74xKUiRt-YTHbaPEN-kCNJ-eoMscqBTVXsH4TAM62rTIIv8481ll7ov6T3Sb7tULLSzmfUdk8fiHk5W5MiRygx7lXMXPjFDBXxR2VkUC0tL4zj3UuLql3Vp_M0seXZPgawQMQ/s400/blog1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576279239471550466" /></a><div>We shoot each other. But of Course!</div><div><br /></div>Yes, it's February and I'm writing about the 2010 holiday season.<div>As our family grows up and adds in-laws, and soon grandchildren. We thought it would be fun to add some traditions.</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div>It doesn't have to always be the same tradition, but one that involves an activity of some kind to make memories and have family members work together. Or play together. And take pictures of course!</div><div><br /></div><div><div>This year we had a Christmas Day Nerf War. The Marine and I were on opposite teams. We set up and played capture the flag. It was the Son-in-laws idea. On his mission he shared how he and other Elders (the title our missionary goes by, like Elder Smith, Elder Jones etc) would play capture the flag. He laid down the rules, some of which I followed. Some of which I guess I didn't hear clearly. There were certain areas of the building we didn't play in. So some areas were off limits.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div>Either way my team beat the Marine's team several times! I was giddy with victory! Only to get assaulted repeatedly by the Marine's team every chance they got. I was targeted. I know I was.</div><div><br /></div><div>I grabbed their "flag" one time and ran around the building to the other side screaming "I got it, I got it" only to find out we were in a time out. The Marine was working on a jammed weapon. Everyone just looked at me and said "WE ARE NOT PLAYING RIGHT NOW". Both teams said this. I was sad. </div><div><br /></div><div>I said, yeah but if we were I WON I WON!</div><div><br /></div><div>Well no one told me. But it makes sense now why I wasn't challenged. And oh how I ran... it was thrilling!</div><div><br /></div><div>There were claims several times of cheating. I explained AGAIN that I wasn't cheating... I just didn't quite understand the rules. The Son-in-law obviously had a communication issue with me and the Marine, well he's just mean and always accuses me of manipulating something or bending the rules, or making them up as I go. So. I'm the mother.</div><div><br /></div><div>Muwahahahahaahahahahah</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div>Let's just say my team kicked booty! And looked good doing it!</div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmwKZfEC583Kv1H7bJyo177NqaCOSOEZ9XhxKGmLOB9Y_iO0gslFhED1N9xr4Z4LOOgkKceUv3Q5ZlkeOf0WeKT3fBVmFRaNqwc4Wa9kTNqEBC-V_I5813O_Q7vKmxUYPu56bF8O5r-kG/s1600/blog2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmwKZfEC583Kv1H7bJyo177NqaCOSOEZ9XhxKGmLOB9Y_iO0gslFhED1N9xr4Z4LOOgkKceUv3Q5ZlkeOf0WeKT3fBVmFRaNqwc4Wa9kTNqEBC-V_I5813O_Q7vKmxUYPu56bF8O5r-kG/s400/blog2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576279241451560930" /></a>Check out my weapon. I know it's mine because as of the time this picture was taken, I was the only Mommy. Next year I will have to be Grandmother, or if MY mom is playing, well, I will have to be Grandmother 2 or something.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SLo21JJ_D2NZMBs0WvLdFPUfD8oMPF9T4vyIIBufSuX_5XpNsbD2gDDRSR2FiruTzcvzwa0Mzuonva6icfRAg6Tq_LjStI81mNZrgTFAdaNyhiOTVbwT7QwcMQOh_culD7HOtV9tJzbI/s1600/blog3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SLo21JJ_D2NZMBs0WvLdFPUfD8oMPF9T4vyIIBufSuX_5XpNsbD2gDDRSR2FiruTzcvzwa0Mzuonva6icfRAg6Tq_LjStI81mNZrgTFAdaNyhiOTVbwT7QwcMQOh_culD7HOtV9tJzbI/s400/blog3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576279234267514226" /></a>This picture was really for The Marine. I had just shot him. I think he enjoyed it. Not sure, but why wouldn't he. Although now looking at this picture I see somewhat of what might be considered a crazed look in my eye.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGj6Vv97Yp0JvkosGj1pxHr-6FLATfq-ZC7C97oNjOxzLdheSPXGW7OX-AGCcPKt7RuwFU6-Ff3M7bnZ31pXS-88XvyKM92AQB96hVPbF00dMr5ZS4cENIZj0lpuDmJRiWnRPo_roUYgG/s400/blog4.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576279230387424546" />My girls. They were both on The Marine's team. I had the other boys. I think they were discussing strategy. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP6JBwVrJRNkweahTi_pDbovxP1gEce9JXUL-tmZN5oqg3-RxCkqNTYexHrrTGARBWhXtZ1iOC6ChrEZ6cnZcONKdhyKgQa5Yqw_qj0ta4jQF7JJ3U82FzlJDr2eshi50CwjcaYGJXD6TR/s1600/blog5.jpg"></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP6JBwVrJRNkweahTi_pDbovxP1gEce9JXUL-tmZN5oqg3-RxCkqNTYexHrrTGARBWhXtZ1iOC6ChrEZ6cnZcONKdhyKgQa5Yqw_qj0ta4jQF7JJ3U82FzlJDr2eshi50CwjcaYGJXD6TR/s1600/blog5.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP6JBwVrJRNkweahTi_pDbovxP1gEce9JXUL-tmZN5oqg3-RxCkqNTYexHrrTGARBWhXtZ1iOC6ChrEZ6cnZcONKdhyKgQa5Yqw_qj0ta4jQF7JJ3U82FzlJDr2eshi50CwjcaYGJXD6TR/s400/blog5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576279065219177282" /></a>Or maybe they were plotting. Or discussing different ways to wear the latest Nerf accessory. You can see baby poking out a little! Let's all take a moment to sigh. Recruit One is so tiny that baby has no room! She is going to be a big round belly with arms and legs sticking out by July! </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEdYCG_Yd7m4wkzdXwct31yvKnX2gpgYvd132I0le66WdwiRTmhDEDF3W8l08RtVLD70uxfkKrrR9hVT5baNlShka8sE5XvT5AYtAti5XNuMnx9HUp22gUDMRfIMJhtLSqulTLr3lGBAnQ/s1600/blog6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEdYCG_Yd7m4wkzdXwct31yvKnX2gpgYvd132I0le66WdwiRTmhDEDF3W8l08RtVLD70uxfkKrrR9hVT5baNlShka8sE5XvT5AYtAti5XNuMnx9HUp22gUDMRfIMJhtLSqulTLr3lGBAnQ/s400/blog6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576279064063255826" /></a>The Marine got a remote helicopter. It came with us too so he could have a safer place to fly it rather than my house! He now flies it in the house and when I am sitting in my chair working, he hovers over me and tries to land it on me. It's annoying. I pretend like I don't know he's dive bombing me. It is only hard to ignore when the hovering mini copter is blowing my hair.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjElInBda7NWvP18FIvnQkxjxPxMAvqjYCOtzmZVbaPtZHfX5aMPGM04vpSs0IhHUGvQy2I2MHVRNsx4_REL66LVX9SKmLWLsgO9E8mog8GwrXnKnGV2WpwWdQAu5CozVVxX986nsfvfwi9/s1600/blog7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjElInBda7NWvP18FIvnQkxjxPxMAvqjYCOtzmZVbaPtZHfX5aMPGM04vpSs0IhHUGvQy2I2MHVRNsx4_REL66LVX9SKmLWLsgO9E8mog8GwrXnKnGV2WpwWdQAu5CozVVxX986nsfvfwi9/s400/blog7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576279053297022434" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Here you see it hovering around the Christmas tree in the foyer. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVQxtPa6HbUi3sts7BEd6aSnPwGwBdn7Ua3GmYp2Dio7YUSOcLdYCxW3i63cLLcuvVr1f1RzD_UX8rvtzHzPFl_7i2Vm57p0TqaiQg3FkxlZZrQS67KPi_56pTKcjuN_Xhuljdd_ESRaG/s400/blog8.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576279054405504050" /></div><div>Here you see the Son-In-Law checking his weapon. He was on my team. I KNOW he was tickled to be on his Mother-in-law's team! I mean who wouldn't be?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5ejHOlW5J0BoOW1W9qMPzi8TU9Z1BVduLPjqEYaT9JZrSChyphenhyphenkY8WAkyOcdkwg5wZk0MdRnV2L1G3IOiM-L_38I2Uqqkwr6_k1SFzplNvcW122NSKfugj3z5Yq0PJzgye0g_cyIX9xCYE/s400/blog9.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576279056603678274" /></div><div>Here is Recruit 4, he is totally excited. I just don't remember why. The problem with blogging two months later... </div><div><br /></div><div>It was really a lot of fun and if NERF guns weren't so stinkin' expensive I'd say let's do it next year. I'm thinking we need a paint ball war next year. I bet the cost of buying all the Nerf guns would be the same as paint ball rental. The base has a paint ball field. I wonder what it would cost to rent it just for us. I think it would be a hoot to have The Marine family against another family from church. Good times, Good times... Recruit One will have have our new grand baby so I can sit out and bounce him while they all splatter each other.</div><div><br /></div><div>OR...</div><div><br /></div><div>OH I KNOW, I could start buying coveralls now, and get our team name put on the back and get the other family to buy different colored coveralls and put their team name on the back and... Oh I've got planning to do... </div><div><br /></div><div>I've got to find another family for the shoot out. </div><div><br /></div><div>This could be good.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-45306196750424833072011-02-20T17:56:00.000-08:002011-02-20T18:50:17.553-08:00My Birthday Review<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-etSNFRefL34Nv2p9P85vqzFva-o9rbmUJ26qPFMZUlyDNSM4l0mPwoYM9xwR-zrBPY2LL90qKY0LCmxYxygXwXEM5YVEtP4aaqc6swtZcDkr1ri-NbIZaN_iu6SlODZT3FXpI0-quwx5/s1600/birthdayblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-etSNFRefL34Nv2p9P85vqzFva-o9rbmUJ26qPFMZUlyDNSM4l0mPwoYM9xwR-zrBPY2LL90qKY0LCmxYxygXwXEM5YVEtP4aaqc6swtZcDkr1ri-NbIZaN_iu6SlODZT3FXpI0-quwx5/s400/birthdayblog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575969647336455154" /></a><br />February 20th a hundred years ago a little baby girl was born to a young Airman and his wife in Madrid, Spain.<div><br /></div><div>I'd like to say she was a beautiful baby, but she found a letter her mother had written to her grandmother that indicated this might not have been the case. However... later it came true after the newborn phase was through. I promise she became much cuter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, it was me!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>Present number 1:</div><div>Yesterday I drove up and there was a box on my porch. I wondered what did I order now? I hadn't, it was a birthday box from my mother! I love boxes from my mother! I've hidden all the candy but Recruit 6 saw today where it was hidden. It's probably already gone. He is a candy fiend.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today was my actual birthday, and of course The Marine is not here. It's okay though, I won't be here for his birthday this spring either. So there.</div><div><br /></div><div>However, I think he cleaned the bathroom (present number 2) before he left as part of his birthday present to me and NOT his attempt to make me feel bad for not enjoying/performing house work. You can read about what <a href="http://kelliskrazyeights.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-marine-and-what-makes-him-ticked-off.html">ticks him off</a> if you really want to know.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, my birthday. This morning I woke up a few minutes before the alarm went off but laid there a few minutes, knowing that I would have to get up and iron all the white shirts. This is a job usually done by The Marine every Sunday morning. He's not here. I mentioned that. I know.</div><div><br /></div><div>Present number 3:</div><div><br /></div><div>I heard Recruit 2 come down the stairs and get the dogs from my room, shut my door and let them outside. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hmmm. Very interesting.</div><div><br /></div><div>That is not normal. He got up on his own, BEFORE my alarm went off, AND came down stairs AND let the dogs out. Nice... I mean you don't understand. That was truly effort on his part and I was really touched. He's a wonderful almost adult. </div><div><br /></div><div>Present number 4:</div><div>So I jumped out of bed only to find Recruit 2 making breakfast! He was so sweet! I said why are you up? He said, "well I wanted to make you breakfast but you got out of bed." I told him I would gladly eat whatever he fixed, but I had to iron. He was so pleasant about it and didn't complain or anything.</div><div><br /></div><div>Present number 5:</div><div>Wonderful sacrament meeting today! As <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.lds.org">Latter Day Saints</a>, our Sunday main meeting is called a sacrament meeting. Today however we had a malfunction that required we partake of the Sacrament at the end of the meeting instead of at the beginning. So we heard the talks first. </div><div><br /></div><div>The talks were all wonderful. One of my young women students from the seminary class I teach gave a wonderful talk and she looked beautiful up there. Then a friend of mine gave a talk and I just wanted to hug her. She had had a bad morning before church, had altercations with two teen daughters, and then had to come to church and speak about love! I just wanted to give her a giant hug. How many times have I been in her position? A lot. It's really awful to be screaming at your kids and then go to church and have to teach a lesson on kindness, patience, love, etc... Bless her for her honesty! </div><div><br /></div><div>Present 6:</div><div>Recruit 4 is now old enough to pass Sacrament. It really is a gift to see him passing the bread and water so reverently and respectfully. He is a force to be reckoned with and I am grateful to have him as mine.</div><div><br /></div><div>During Sacrament the bread and water are passed. Recruit 6 started stressing out when we didn't get to "eat". I need to talk to him! sigh...</div><div><br /></div><div>Then he wanted a "big" cup. The extra cups they had to get because we were out of our regular little plastic cups were much bigger. He was feeling slighted he had gotten a 'little' cup. I spent a minute trying to explain to him and then finally said "be quiet or I'm taking you out!" (not taking him out like shooting him, but taking him out of the chapel, felt the need to clarify that...)</div><div><br /></div><div>Present number 7:</div><div>Watching Recruit 2 hold a baby during the meeting. She is so calm and patient and loving. Wish she was that way with some of her own brothers. However I truly enjoy watching her with the babies. There is something so calm and peaceful the way she is when she is holding a baby. She will make a wonderful mother one day. (NOT TODAY)</div><div><br /></div><div>Present number 8:</div><div>Sister E. brought me TAMALES!!!! I needed those! I have been wanting tamales since December. I didn't get any for Christmas. They were super yummy. We had them for lunch after church. I miss tamales.</div><div><br /></div><div>Present number 9: </div><div>After church I walked in the house to discover the kitchen and den were clean and the clothes all put away! there was a note with several different Happy Birthday's written by cleaning Elves!!! That was fabulous! </div><div><br /></div><div>Recruit 5 and 6 walked in behind me and both said OH BOY let's check out our room! Only to find that the elves failed to enter their dungeon. Recruit 2 laughed hysterically as the little boys ran to see if the 'elves' had visited their room. The Elves HAD NOT visited their room. It is still a dungeon.</div><div><br /></div><div>Present number 11: </div><div>My "other" sons from church brought me some cookies! I have such love for the youth in my seminary class. I was really touched they brought me yummy treats. </div><div><br /></div><div>Present number 12: </div><div>There was not nearly as much fighting today as there could be and have been before. They were all really trying. There were a few moments... but no blood or ER visits. Success!</div><div><br /></div><div>I heard from my mom, my mom-in-law, and my sweet Recruit 1. Multiple birthday wishes via Facebook and friends at church. It was just wonderful!</div><div><br /></div><div>Living so far away from my family has always been bittersweet. I miss them and I miss "home" but life in the Marine Corps has been good and has brought other "family" into my life I would have missed out on. I am happy and content.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today was a good day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now if the Marine would just come home... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-24551375789566662242011-02-19T13:58:00.001-08:002011-02-19T15:16:49.131-08:00MY MARINE AND WHAT MAKES HIM TICKed off.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX36sz0Am2Sq8izq1uzxSLYn2-etftIqfOqEm4kssgds0nPCNI1VC0f6Ejn0_zOmHzCO8KC9Dl61hMrVBC3XFz5AlfEYUfZGd5aHwsHrF9StWUzD9xAcwsyASOiwRr0Z-vx_WviLNU-d58/s1600/blog1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX36sz0Am2Sq8izq1uzxSLYn2-etftIqfOqEm4kssgds0nPCNI1VC0f6Ejn0_zOmHzCO8KC9Dl61hMrVBC3XFz5AlfEYUfZGd5aHwsHrF9StWUzD9xAcwsyASOiwRr0Z-vx_WviLNU-d58/s400/blog1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575537233130058610" /></a><br />Oh I have missed my blog. I just have not been able to find the time, or when I have the time I am beyond exhausted. So many big and small moments I've missed. Many small things I've posted on Facebook, mostly the funny things the kids say. The big moments have been Recruit One's wedding in December of 2009, the birth and death of my first Grandchild in August of 2010, and the wonderful news of a second, healthy baby boy due to arrive in July of 2011. All of which I am writing, but I just am not ready for it to be on a public blog. Maybe when I've finished and Recruit One is good with it I will share that story. It's beautiful and sad, but filled with love and a true testimony that God lives. <div><br /></div><div>As a writer, I find myself writing in my head and in my heart all the time, but never quite capturing those moments on paper (or computer). I feel like I am not being true to a talent I've been given or to the need to capture moments for my children, and now grandchildren.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, today, I try to begin again to do better. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now this story isn't as tender or as touching as the one about my granddaughter, it's about him. That MAN/Marine I married. sigh. </div><div><br /></div><div>My relationship with my husband, who I truly adore, has been described as volatile before. Not by me, but by a friend of ours. I like to call it feisty, fun, entertaining, energetic. He's always taken very good care of me and has been my knight in shining armour. We banter and quip, and on occasion have a humdinger of a disagreement, but always, always we have been tied to one another that is safe and loving and kind. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I didn't like him very much last night.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well really up until an hour ago I was highly irked (I think it's my hormones. Isn't it always?) In fact up until an hour ago I was thinking up all kinds of revenge-ish things to do. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some of which were: never do his laundry again, always have both dogs and three of the kids in bed with me asleep when he came to bed so he would have to move everyone, drive off in his truck at random and odd moments, cook lots of deserts with nuts in them. He hates nuts. Eat peanut butter right before he wants to be romantic and NOT brush my teeth. He hates peanut butter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, so obviously I'm not talking sabotage. Just How to Annoy My Marine in six easy steps.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Marine is on his way somewhere and will be back in a day or two. Let me just say first before I go any further how much I LOVE MY MARINE. I really do. Please refer back to this sentence in a little while.</div><div><br /></div><div>We had a miscommunication last night. One that resulted in my waking from a dead sleep, him commenting on my snoring and how I just lay around and sleep all the time, and then me grabbing a pillow and storming out to climb onto the top bunk in Recruit 3's room where I promptly fell asleep. For one hour. </div><div><br /></div><div>I then had to go to the bathroom. So without my glasses, in the dark and with a very shifty bed, I had to figure out how to climb back down, avoid all the 'stuff' on the floor to include a lacrosse stick I had injured myself on when I first arrived in her room.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had to then again climb back up the shifty bed, toss and turn, then fall asleep, for another hour. However there was NO WAY I was going back where HE was. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>He also cleaned our bathroom. And started laundry, which is what started his irritation. He has always helped with housework, but not always the bathroom and quite frankly I've been less than diligent. I'm just really really tired all the time and work and the kids and church come before the bathroom. Plus I hate cleaning it. So there, I've said it. </div><div><br /></div><div>My point is, he might, perhaps, maybe had reason to be irritated, but still didn't need to be mean to me in the middle of the night, with me being startled awake. (I've since learned he had fallen asleep sitting up with the computer on his lap and my snoring startled HIM awake first). whatever. </div><div><br /></div><div>So this morning I woke up, not well rested, avoided HIM, got the kids ready and took off for Lacrosse practice, Baseball sign ups, cleat shopping etc. The Marine stopped by the Lacrosse field to say goodbye since he was heading out of town and I had scurried everyone out of the house before he got up. on purpose. I KNOW<>.. I'm awful. I will tell my Bishop tomorrow....</div><div><br /></div><div>He came to my window and kissed me goodbye.</div><div><br /></div><div>I kissed him back.</div><div><br /></div><div>There were people present.</div><div><br /></div><div>He walked around to the passenger window and leaned in and said he knew it killed me to kiss him goodbye.</div><div><br /></div><div>I said no. I didn't mind kissing him because if he died I would feel really bad if I hadn't kissed him.</div><div><br /></div><div>He laughed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>He grinned.</div><div><br /></div><div>I glared.</div><div><br /></div><div>He drove off. I went cleat shopping.</div><div><br /></div><div>Arriving several hours later we arrived home and I took my lunch to my room to sit down and watch a recorded show away from the kids. We'd spent the day together and I was needing a few minutes alone. </div><div><br /></div><div>I couldn't locate the remote to my TV. I figured HE had hidden it as a parting shot.</div><div><br /></div><div>Seriously, would he have stooped that low? YES, I think he would.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I found the remote from the den TV and took it into the bedroom, pointed at the TV and clicked. The TV came on alright, but only to have a screen filled with the snow of death.</div><div><br /></div><div>I knew immediately HE had done something to my cable in the bedroom as an extra parting shot. The poison on the tip of the spear so to speak. If losing the remote wasn't enough, it wouldn't matter when I found it. MARINES!! You really have to know who you are dealing with.</div><div><br /></div><div>I checked the connections. My COMM Marine always says "did you check all the connections first?" whenever I call for help. (please say this in a mimicky whiney voice. I did) So I checked all the connections. No luck. </div><div><br /></div><div>Cable worked everywhere else. Proof he was playing dirty. Really dirty.</div><div><br /></div><div>I grabbed the phone and started to dial. I put it down. I didn't want to call him. He would know he'd gotten me. I could figure this out.</div><div><br /></div><div>No I couldn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>I picked up the phone. </div><div><br /></div><div>I put it down.</div><div><br /></div><div>I sighed heavily.</div><div><br /></div><div>I grabbed it and dialed.</div><div><br /></div><div>One ring, two rings, three rings. Oh this was going to annoy me if he didn't answer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine: "Hello!" (Mr. Happy)</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "What. Did. You. Do. To. The. Cable. In. Our. Room.?" (Mrs. I will never be friendly to you again)</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine: "What? Nothing." (Mr. Innocent)</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "Sure you didn't". and I hung up.</div><div><br /></div><div>About an hour later the phone rings. Meanwhile, I've gone to HULU.com. so I'm a little calmer. Had my TV fix.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: after looking at the caller ID, "HELLO!" (said very firmly and with clear disgruntlement)</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine: "Hey is Wade there? Does he have a minute?" </div><div>small talk small talk blah blah of which I was commenting little.</div><div><br /></div><div>then</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine: "Well, I've been listening to scripture on tape and I'm listening to Alma (in the Book of Mormon) and it's where all the battles are and it's great!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "harrumph" or some other disgusted sound.</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine continues: "and I realized, I needed to call you and I didn't want to battle with you. You are my eternal companion and I love you very much."</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: now softening a little because 1. The Marine was being sweet, and 2. I don't want to be the one to be in trouble with Heavenly Father since now the Marine was being humble. darn it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine Continues: "and to fix the cable you just need to switch the two cables around"</div><div><br /></div><div>I KNEW IT! IT WAS HIM! the rat.</div><div><br /></div><div>In fact, when I was checking those two were loose.... AND I TIGHTENED THEM BACK... Little did I know they were loose because he had switched them. Oh and the remote was back there too. dirty dirty rat.</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine Continues:"and I am very sorry.... and so on... more mushy stuff" that I won't repeat because then he will be annoyed because after all he is The Marine...</div><div><br /></div><div>Kelli: "well. okay. but you really hurt my feelings! And I don't lay around and sleep all day! And yeah, you hurt me deeply"</div><div><br /></div><div>Marine: "Yes, and I've apologized, and I do love you."</div><div><br /></div><div>I can't remember anymore than that because at that point the recruits kept breaking in and I had to yell at them a couple of times. They were ruining the moment.</div><div><br /></div><div>He explained he was asleep when my loud snoring startled him awake and he was just snapping and I thought he was awake already because he was sitting up with the computer on his lap still, which many a time I've removed from his lap, and he was just being mean for no apparent reason.</div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>I love the Marine. He ticks me off but he always makes it better. I tick him off and usually have to clean something to make it up to him. I might be frustrating to live with sometimes - possibly. Don't take that as any sort of admittance to anything. </div><div><br /></div><div>Recently, I think, but I can't be sure, it might have been more than usual.</div><div><br /></div><div> I sat on his side of the bed yesterday eating food. That ticks him off. </div><div><br /></div><div>I hadn't cleaned the bathroom, (in a few... days?) and there was tons of laundry. We had to use monster hooded towels...</div><div><br /></div><div>We've eaten a lot of pizza and McDonald's lately.</div><div><br /></div><div> And other little things, for instance; I have a hard time keeping up with my check card. I'm always looking for it and often have had to go out to the Marine's unit and get his check card from him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well recently two of our vehicles were broken into in our driveway and some things were stolen to included my whole purse (story for another time) and my check card was in there. So I had his. We got into the van to go get my military ID (which was stolen too) and as The Marine was driving and talking he looked down and said, well now that your new check card has arrived can I take mine back out of this bowl down here?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I died. I had meant to move it before he got home so I wouldn't get lectured but I forgot. It was in a bowl sitting under the center console thingy and the bowl was there from something we'd taken to church (it was clean).</div><div><br /></div><div>The who thing struck me as funny and I started laughing. Like giddy stupid laughing that often leads to an asthma attack. He looked at me. He wanted to be irritated but I must have been ridiculous looking and a slight grin started to creep up. He shook his head and said, "you are a mess. An unorganized mess." (if any of my bosses read this he only means personally, not professionally.)</div><div><br /></div><div>He took his card back, got me a new ID card, and then took me to the exchange and bought me a new wallet. He really is sweet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our marriage may have been described as volatile, but I wouldn't have it any other way. He is good for me and I know I am good for him. 22 years, six kids, and a whole lot of Marine Corps and I couldn't ask for a better husband and best friend. And look, he can kiss me in the snow AND hang on to his corn dog bite! He is the most wonderful man in the world!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2QMfLR_k6FMuVMu_z2eMHX8yC8RcPvms3RjqzkUDi8s4UxlqNFC1ppyLy0fbj9fzpnYkibQqHatP1WJgcMFovU-E7E3zrbZBTmRmXvhbrVrB4jN9gfib4dyjLrhStqRIjsFCIH4HJSqd9/s400/blog2.jpg" /></div>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-27665554199280200102010-09-07T16:40:00.000-07:002010-09-07T17:11:29.545-07:00Warning: Possible inappropriate content<div><div><div><div>This story involves Recruit 6. Just a warning. Worried yet? This post could go anywhere ya know...</div><div> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514324850835179298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Eroe2OaNJ7c5mLZQM4CAMlG2JvJkPq4NC1hrNZBmpAvEBVgXcojx8oXslAs-hR8n-OVILQ9Q0eWxAALSPi1SfQHbsGc80pcvVhyphenhyphennZEmyeakC-ie101zqBjm3GGL0Avl0AfCFxHacWhqy/s400/blog4.jpg" /></div><div>This is his second year to play football. He's kinda of well known around here. Sadly, not for his football skill. He is still one of the younger/smaller players. Maybe I should say he is NOTORIOUS, rather than well known. </div><div> </div><div>Why? Well, too look at him you would think it's because of his angelic face and demeanor. Both of which are true... Most of the time.... It's more because of what he has refused to wear since he left diapers far behind. Underwear. He doesn't wear underwear.</div><div> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514324846299271346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQUejOt6uKG6uKexjc7R_3k5yHQZZODcxP24_XeeYnlYux7dvHn1tlQpwofio8lglsVj1dSXORvbdOtoyFCjNIONP88K9a42fNnfA_D6DDgdqUegn6BiheCYVNQB2-guzY4XBXQATnxwQ/s400/blog3.jpg" /></div><div>Many a sun beam and primary teacher at church have found out the hard way. I forgot to warn them. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514324842385713826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYM3Fh3xtSTGBaluW6vBmqXN8R6s-MRZbXB7jcb1hagrv6IELgiZsL6_BWgW2ea5t0n_BzqlkIYjo1HQGjE6ObAAzo4PgriVm9DY-YOZpniJkVuHwOcqZ2UKv-sr8VcoXu7XR6T_T0HGq/s400/blog2.jpg" /></div><div> </div><div>But today, that may have all changed. He came in from football practice tonight and as I took off his football pants, (with him lying on the kitchen floor as I tugged) I noticed BOXER shorts. </div><div> </div><div>Me: Oh my gosh! you have on underwear!</div><div> </div><div>Recruit 6: Yep. I think I'm going to start wearing them.</div><div> </div><div>Me: Oh? why?</div><div> </div><div>Recruit 6: Well, if my pants fall down, someone might see my business. And in the bathroom the other day, my pants came down and someone saw my business and I said HEY DON'T LOOK AT MY BUSINESS!</div><div> </div><div>Me: {hiding my joy} Ah, well that sounds like a great idea.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514324836564631394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXhKdFqGnRyTtWB9Pch9hcEf8QV7zmazVC5nzU_Az9spOmwEllSG3fHcWIUXnrCZ_BYrvbRQ8ON7I_-LVTgZQWb4H_s8FzcX7KKRvH9L_v23iKWGeDCNn6vVmr5kZd6e6nIU8e7UCj1L9j/s400/blog.jpg" /></div></div></div></div><br /><p>SO for all you have been marred by the lack of underwear on our little man child, or worried he was going to run off and join a nudist colony, or worse, become promiscuous before 3rd grade, never fear! Life has a way of working out and society has a way of helping us all mainstream in our own time... darn it. I now will have more laundry to do.</p>Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2423399344030888471.post-1739452350276314792010-09-06T05:52:00.000-07:002010-09-06T06:17:04.530-07:00New beginings, Loss, Birthdays, all in one post.Now it's September. So much has happened in our lives since Christmas day. So much there is no way to ever catch up. I will post a few things for sure. Like Recruit 1's wedding on 30 December 2009, then the second reception on the east coast on 9 January.<br /><br />Then in April we had to say goodbye to our beloved Bradford. He was 15 and a half year old <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Blond</span> lab and had been my faithful companion through many deployments, moves, and new babies.<br /><br />later that same month, Luke, an adorable <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">blond</span> lab, was born and we were able to get him on Memorial weekend. Both of these beautiful animals and faithful family members deserve their own posts.<br /><br />August brought the unexpected and all to early delivery of Recruit one's first baby. She didn't make it and hello's and goodbye's were all done on the same day. The amazing thing was Heavenly Father's hand was over us in a way I had never experienced before.<br /><br />While it was a sad time, the peace we were granted and the comfort was something not of our ability or of this earth. It could only be the love and blessings from a loving Father in Heaven who knew what His children needed and granted it, almost hourly.<br /><br />I returned home to my other five children the day before school started and The Marine was gone on a trip. Hasn't been much time to catch our breath.<br /><br />Today is labor day, 2010. I am tired. I feel old and too young all at the same time. I think about two worlds colliding, one is the past and one is the present, and it makes it seem more plausible to have life fold in on its self, except my fingers are getting stiffer as my joints ache a little more. The Marine snores a little louder and there's more to hold onto when I hug him. That's how I can tell it's the present and I am getting older!<br /><br />Oh, and how could I forget to mention, I've been called as the seminary teacher. That should prove interesting. We've completed one week so far and Hurricane Earl messed up our first Friday Scripture Mastery Day, so I am already having to figure out catch up! I think I am going to LOVE this calling, however... Wow, it's early and recruits 5 and 6 have to go to the church building with us. So far it's not been too disruptive... so far.<br /><br />So if I do one post a day, I'll catch up in a week. I've missed blogging, capturing those random moments and not so normal events my family seems to find themselves involved in.<br /><br />Oh and TODAY is Recruit 3's birthday. I have yet to get her a present and she wants me to MAKE the cake and not buy it. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">ug</span>. She is my only girl <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">comrade</span> in this male dominate house right now. I guess I'll drag my Labor Day relaxing tail to the store and buy a cake mix.<br /><br />As I type this my 85 year old Grandmother and my Mother have <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">embarked</span> on a 3500 mile road trip. I'll be watching their progress like we watch hurricane Earl, Fiona, Gaston, etc.... Recruit 1, myself, my Aunt, and The Marine are all on standby if one of us needs to fly somewhere in the U.S. to drive them back home...<br /><br />I LOVE MY FAMILY!!!!<br /><br />I am pledging now, to myself because that way only I shall be disappointed, to set aside time for my writing. I'm not sure when, but I am looking for some!!!Kellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774512489473685826noreply@blogger.com2