tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34214758388642383442024-03-05T21:40:54.405-07:0011th Heaven's Homemaking Haven11th Heaven's Homemaking HavenMom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.comBlogger983125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-81251886766087986422015-03-31T23:47:00.000-06:002017-08-17T14:17:15.146-06:00A First-time Guest Post from John: Flat Tire GratitudeJohn recently became enrolled in an online college degree program offered by BYU Idaho called Pathway. For one of his classes, he has had various writing assignments. Since we've never heard from John here on my blog, I thought it would be fun to post the experience he wrote about. Here's John..... :)<br />
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I had promised the kids a picnic on Saturday. I had to work 4 hours that morning so we got a late start. We borrowed a truck and picked up my 80 y/o Dad who accompanied us while Mom stayed home to get some rest and recuperate from her miscarriage. The kids wanted to go to an abandoned train tunnel some 25 miles from home in a remote area of the mountains. On the way up there, one of the 7 y/o twins, out of the blue said, "I know what we can do if we get a flat tire, we can use this can of FixAFlat"..... I congratulated him on being so observant and smart.<br />
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We had a great time at the tunnel and the river next to it. The kids fell in the river the requisite number of times, we got sand in our food, played with moss in the river, floated pieces of wood down the river, fell on the rocks and got scrapped, all the usual things you would want on a fun outing with the kids. On the way back, suddenly we heard the sickening whoosh, whoosh, whoosh sound of a punctured tire. We pulled over to the side of the dirt road to change the tire but as I got out, I heard another sound of air escaping...... Sure enough, we had two tires going flat. With only one spare, facing a 20+ mile hike back to civilization, one of the kids forgetting his shoes back at the river (Mom wasn't there so we weren't organized....), and knowing that virtually no one traveled this road, the initial response was panic. I said a silent prayer and then I remembered "I know what we can do if we get a flat tire, we can use this can of FixAFlat". I asked the twin to bring me the can of FixAFlat he had seen. We put it in the tire with the slower leak and then set about to change the other tire. As the kids had never experienced changing a tire, it occurred to me that this would be a great chance to teach them all the necessary steps on how to do so. I wish I had taken a picture of the four little kids huddled around the tire taking off, and putting on the lug nuts as well as their awe as they saw how the spare tire was lowered from under the pickup. 45 minutes later, we were on the road again heading home.<br />
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Fast forward to Sunday - My wife asks me to take her Primary class and the lesson is on the Holy Ghost. It hits me.... The twin was prompted by the Holy Ghost to make the comment about the FixAFlat...... I sat down with him to explain this to him. He was pleasantly surprised about being part of the larger plan and then the next revelation comes and I asked: What would have happened if Dad would have been mad (ungrateful) about the flat tire? Who would I have been mad at? His answer - Jesus. Then this lesson on Gratitude.<br />
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So what am I grateful for?<br />
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1. That the the Holy Ghost prompted my young son to make the comment about the FixAFlat that we ultimately used, preventing a pretty big disaster.</div>
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2. The teaching opportunity given me to help my sons learn about the Holy Ghost's influence in our daily lives.</div>
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3. The flat tire / Holy Ghost lesson that I was able to share with the Primary kids (got to love that look of wonder and awe on the kids faces as they are learning.......).</div>
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4. The Holy Ghost teaching me about what really happened that day.</div>
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5. The past Pathway lessons that have helped me to learn to look for the positive and not get angry at situations.</div>
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6. This Pathway lesson on Gratitude and the chance to put all of this in writing. It helped me to see the bigger picture.</div>
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7. The opportunity to teach my kids how to change a flat tire.</div>
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8. A great bonding experience with my boys and with my Dad.</div>
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9. That it is raining outside right now. We live in this very dry Sonoran desert and rain is ALWAYS welcome.</div>
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10. A wonderful wife as my companion on this wonderful life experience</div>
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11. A flat tire.....</div>
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12. The chance to go back to bed and get some sleep before work starts.........<br />
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It is true that "gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others".</div>
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-8574745729319968862015-03-30T03:09:00.002-06:002017-09-14T18:34:49.778-06:00A Musical, A Pregnancy and a Van ExplosionI don't even know where to begin. It's been so long since I've written anything meaningful. But writing has always been therapeutic for me, perhaps because it's a way of releasing creativity and emotion at the same time. So let me start with the musical.<br />
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Six weeks ago I was asked to play the piano for the school musical. The school musical is no small thing. I knew this because I had played for Seven Brides for Seven Brothers three years ago. The students, teachers and community volunteers put in from 80 to 100 hours, or even more in some cases, in a six week period to put on the production. At the time, I had a nursing baby and many other young children, and just the babysitting alone cost me over $500 over the course of the rehearsals and performances. Although it was incredibly rewarding, I had had no idea of the toil and time that would be involved and I told myself I would never do it again.<br />
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Fast forward three years. I was in my kitchen, peacefully going about my business when I received a frantic phone call that the pianist who can committed to play for the musical had suddenly bailed at the last minute, and was there any way I could come that afternoon and fill in until they could find someone else. I went to the school, and as I sat there at the piano, I knew I had to do this. Two of my kids were in the play, various women with no children in the school were helping, and so why couldn't I? My little boys were old enough to sit during the rehearsals and do their homework and play some games on our electronic devices, so yes, I would do it!<br />
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I went home and told John what had happened. I reminded him of the sacrifice our family would be making: floors unswept, dishes undone, frantic simple dinners prepared, little time for anything else but the musical for the next six weeks. The dear man readily agreed to support me.<br />
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Things were going well for the first week. I began to bond with the music director in a way we hadn't before, which was rewarding, and I was enjoying getting to know the students. The little boys behaved unbelievably well during the rehearsals and I just knew I was going to have the time of my life for the next six weeks, working with my two teenagers, getting to know people I hadn't before, and creating something amazing, that evokes emotion for hundreds of people, out of nothing.<br />
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At the beginning of the next week, however, something happened that would drastically change everything. I was cleaning up lunch and I suddenly realized I had not had my monthly telltale sign. I was a week late. I had been so busy at the school, I hadn't even noticed. Since I stock dozens of pregnancy tests I buy from the Dollar Store for the local women, I flippantly decided I'd just go take a test after I clean the kitchen. I probably had the date wrong. I hadn't gotten pregnant for three years. Why would I be so now? The minute after these thoughts went through my mind, my heart suddenly started pounding and I knew, I<i> knew</i>, that I was pregnant. I gave Baby Hippo his device that he gets to play for a few minutes before naptime (By the way, he will no long go by Baby Hippo, as he is now five years old, and a normal weight. He will henceforth by known as the 5-year-old boy). and quickly went to the bathroom with test in hand. I laid it on the counter when I was finished, then went to put a log of wood on the fire, because I love to take a nap in the winter with a small fire going in the fireplace by my bed. When I went back to the counter, there were two lines on the test. My heart seemed to seize and leap at the same time, so various were the emotions I felt as I saw those two lines. Then I looked at the box again, because I momentarily couldn't remember what two lines meant, although I did know, I just couldn't believe it. I was pregnant. For the twelve time. Ironically, just the week before, I had had two friends over who wanted to learn to make bread. One of them had a baby, and as I watched her struggle with him, I told them both, "Every time I'm around someone with a baby, I feel soooo glad I don't have a baby." That being said, a rush of gratitude came into my heart and I immediately knelt down in front of the fire place where it was so warm, and thanked God for the blessing he had given me, the chance to have another child, to be the mother and guardian of eleven beautiful spirits. I was ecstatic.<br />
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I didn't know how or when I would tell John, though. We had lost two babies three and a half and three years ago, both at seven weeks, so I wasn't sure this one would stay. Should I wait to tell him or should I have him involved from the very beginning? The choice would be made for me the next day. John and I needed to do some shopping at the border town three hours away, so we loaded the kids up and began the journey. While we were driving, John began a conversation we had started a while ago and about what kind of vehicle we were going to purchase. Our fifteen passenger van was on its last leg and we had said that when the 18-year-old boy left for his mission, we would get an eight-passenger SUV, which, by the way, is so much cooler than a 15-passenger van. John asked if this was still the plan. It all of a sudden occurred to me that this could no longer be the plan. I said, "Um. Well. That's really not going to work for us now." His quick mind immediately grasped my meaning and asked, "Are you pregnant???" "Yes!" I said. He then went into John mode, saying, "Okay. at the auctions my uncle has been telling me about, you can get a 15-passenger van for about $11,000." He went on in this vein until I finally asked, "Well, are you happy?" He said, "Yes! Of course! And I hope it's twins!" I was so happy.<br />
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There is so much more I want to tell you. I want to tell you how I told my mom. I want to share more feelings with you. But there is just too much to write. But the next part I must tell you. I am not going to take the time to write it out like I would have had I known I would be posting it to this blog, but I'm going to copy the letter I wrote to the 18-year-old boy on his mission. It was figuratively scrawled out quickly between answering the door, taking phone calls, answering emails, and responding to countless Facebook messages and comments, all while trying to process all that had happened on our way home from the border town. Here is the letter and accompanying photos.....<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">Well, Son, do we have some stories for you today! And before you start reading, just know that everyone is okay!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">So, on Saturday we had to go to El Paso to watch Landon play a game against Cathedral, which is the all-boy Catholic school. It was also the twins' birthday, so we decided to take them to the zoo and shopping for presents. The boys lost pathetically, only scoring like 14 points, but Landon made like 5 of them or so! Can you believe it? It was pretty awesome. But Bro, Hatch saw that I wasn't watching the game and that I missed seeing one of Landon's shots, so he sent his grandson, Caleb, over to me to tell me that I needed to stop gossiping with Cade and watch my son play! I think Bro. Hatch just needs to worry about coaching his team.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">So anyways, we took the kids to the zoo and shopping and eventually loaded up the van to go home. I had also bought a new laptop, had a huge number of oils in a bag from the mail, and John had purchased many things, including 8 wheels for work, a BlueRay DVD player and $600 worth of groceries. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">So we got a late start heading home. It got dark quickly, which we don't like, but we just couldn't get things done on time. It's about 7:00 by this time and we're cruising along at about 70 MPH, which is our normal speed. Cars are oncoming and some have their brights on, so it's hard to see. All of sudden, just as a car is about to pass us, I see the silhouette of two huge cows exactly in our lane in front of us. I say silhouette because we couldn't see them with our headlights because we were somewhat blinded by the oncoming traffic. So I scream, "THERE'S A COW!!!!" And the split second later, we hit it going about 70 MPH. I didn't see it hit our windshield, but I heard the sickening sound of metal and glass crunching and then we were stopped and my glasses were down around my chin. (I would later learn that it was the airbag that had knocked down my glasses, although I never saw or felt it.) It was all so fast. I put my glasses back on and turned around and said, "Is everyone okay?" Some of the kids started crying, but before I could see if everyone was all right, John yelled, "EVERYONE GET OUT OF THE VAN!!! NOW!! NOW!!!" I didn't know why. I didn't know if we were about to get hit by someone else going 70 MPH or if the van was going to explode or what, but I jumped out as fast as I could. Claire had the presence of mind to get Daniel unbuckled and all of the kids jumped out at the same time. Johnny was crying and his lip was bleeding and swollen to the size of a small sausage. I told the kids to get far away from the road, to follow me, but Claire was just standing there. I said, "Claire, come on!" She said, "Mom, I don't have my shoes on!" And I told her to just run anyway, that the van was going to explode. She said that her feet were already full of stickers and she couldn't. So I picked her up like a baby, all 113 pounds of her, and we all ran about 50 yards to get away from the van and off the road. All the boys were crying and saying "Is Daddy going to die?!?!" and I said no, he's just trying to put the fire out and making sure no cars hit our van. Then they started spontaneously getting on their knees in the stickers and the weeds and clasping their little hands together and praying their hearts out. They prayed that Daddy wouldn't die, that we could get a new van and we wouldn't wreck it, that they were grateful we were all alive, that the van wouldn't blow up, but just melt. It was very moving and heart-warning. They did this spontaneously many times throughout the evening, sometimes silently, sometimes out loud.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">We were probably sitting there for about ten minutes watching John trying to put the fire out, but then he came up to us and said that he couldn't get the fire out and that the van was probably going to blow, so we should move very far away. So I picked up Claire again, and we ran about a football field's length away. We sat there, the kids sitting on my lap, and Claire standing, and watched our van become engulfed in flames. Claire cried as we watched it burn, saying it was just so disturbing and upsetting to see our van in flames that way. There was a series of explosions as each tire blew, the battery, the gas tank, but no one was hurt. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">Many emergency vehicles started showing up, Federales, municipales, bomberos and ambulances. Everyone was so kind to us. One of the Federales took off his coat and put it on Daniel. A random driver waiting for the van to burn so he could pass through gave me his jacket. The ambulance drivers gave us many blankets and more coats. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">I kept looking at the van, watching it burn, thinking how amazing it was that all of us survived. The thoughts would come into my mind about all the stuff I was watching burn, my purse, with the pass cards in it, my lap top, the new lap top I just bought, my iPhone, iPod, iPad, all of our food, the music for the musical, which costs $300 to replace, but I just kept saying to myself, It's okay. It all can be replaced. All of us are okay, and it's a miracle. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">Then, what to my surprise, Landon and some of his friends from the basketball team walk up to us. Apparently they had been a few cars behind, just stuck in traffic, waiting for the firemen to put the fire out and let them clear. They were quite annoyed with whatever "stupid driver left his van to just burn in the middle of the road." They were teasing Landon, "Yeah, Dude! That's probably your van! hahahah!" Well, after the flames got put out, the bus driver decided to let them go see the wreckage, and then one of the boys said, "Dude Landon! That's your dad!" John saw Landon at the same time and waved him over, telling him to look at the van. I think Landon quickly figured out that everyone was okay by John's demeanor. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">So the boys visited with us for a while, then headed back to the bus. Or so I thought. I few minutes later, out of the dust and the smoke and the glare of the emergency vehicles, I see the entire team emerging from the scene, coming towards us again, but this time carrying all of our things; my purse, my oils, boxes of root beer, ice chests, blankets, pillows, backpacks. Unbeknownst to me, John and a random man had gotten many of the items out of the van after John realized it was going to burn. He kept working to get things out until the top of his head was singeing, then realized he needed to stop and just let the fire take what was left. When Claire saw the boys coming towards us with all of our things, she started crying. I got a huge lump in my throat. The boys set all of our stuff down next to us, and just hung out with us, acting like 14-year-old boys do, laughing, trying to getting passing semis to honk, joking and just lightening the mood considerably. Then the bus driver offered to take us home while John stayed and continued to work with the police. So we all hopped on the bus, the boys loaded all of our stuff into the bottom of the bus, the bus driver took us home, and the boys unloaded all of our things and took them into our kitchen. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">As I was sitting in the front seat of the bus with Daniel asleep on my lap and the other boys playing the tablet that was salvaged and John's phone, I had the most amazing feeling of peace and love. Peace, because we were all safe and unhurt and because God had definitely been watching over us. Love, because countless people showed kindness and charity to us all evening: the police and emergency workers, passers-by and, of course, the basketball team. I think I'm going to throw them a pizza party. </span><i class="_4-k1 img sp_0FWTQ_K3bWk sx_72c37c" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yS/r/ckxre_asY0y.png); background-position: 0px -8033px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #373e4d; display: inline-block; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; height: 16px; line-height: 16.0799999237061px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;">We were so lucky and so blessed and we certainly have a new perspective on life. Things could have ended so differently. The Lord is good.</span><br />
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Our van, after the flames had died down some....<br />
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John took this photo with his phone as we all sat in stunned silence, watching what we thought were all of our things burning...</div>
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Where the kids were sitting an hour before...</div>
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One of the many law enforcement officials we met that night...<br />
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The amazing ninth grade basketball team.....</div>
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But alas, my friends, my story doesn't end there. Allow me to continue.</div>
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As you can well imagine, dealing with the aftermath of this accident was an emotional challenge. And for John, it was a physical challenge as well, as his shins endured severe abrasions, bruising and swelling, as they took the brunt of the collapse of the front dash. We had trouble sleeping for many nights and we wondered if our new baby, the size of a sesame seed, had survived the ordeal. I knew that I would know in a matter of time, so I choose not to see the doctor at this time. </div>
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When I returned to play practice, I told the music director that I had discovered I was pregnant a few days before and her face showed immediate concern. She is a mother of seven grown boys, and knows how difficult early pregnancy can be. She became even more concerned when I told her of my previous miscarriages. She worried that I might go through a miscarriage during the six-week rehearsal period. She felt like maybe she should find someone else. I told her no, that I would be okay. I knew how to handle my morning sickness and if I did lose the baby, I would bounce back quickly. She agreed to have me continue to assist her. </div>
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This second week of practice, everything went fine, until Saturday night. Right before turning into bed, I saw pink blood. I audibly gasped and felt immediate devastation. I came out of the bathroom and told John. His face fell and he hugged me and said how sorry he was. I asked him for a priesthood blessing and after he gave me one, we were both comforted. </div>
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I waited for the heavy bleeding and the cramping to come, but it never did. Nothing else happened. No more blood. No cramping. Of course I pored over articles on the internet to try to find out what it all meant, I talked to other moms and I prayed. The advice I latched onto was that I needed rest. This is not something I'm good at, but I wanted so much to keep this baby, so I asked John to go to the house of the lady who sometimes helps us, Esther, and ask if she could come for a couple of hours every day to help with the cleaning until we could find out what was going on. </div>
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On Monday I called the doctor to make an appointment. He couldn't get me in until twelve days hence, which fact caused me much concern. It was torture waiting day after day, wondering if the baby was alive or not. The next Monday, I had another incident of the same type of spotting, so I decided to throw it all to the wind and I simply went into his office and I said I needed to be seen that day. He agreed to see me at 6:30 that night. When I went in that evening, he took my vitals, then I laid on the table. I twisted my head as far as I could, so I could catch a glimpse of my little one on the screen. He quietly measured and changed screens and measured some more, then finally he turned up the volume and we heard a heart beat! My baby was alive! There was a problem, though. He explained in Spanish (and remember that my Spanish is somewhat limited) that he could see that my placenta had a small tear and that my uterus was having a difficult time keeping it attached. He advised that we begin progesterone injections and capsules. He said I needed to rest more and not mop or do anything that strained my abdominal muscles. He said he would like to see me in two weeks. </div>
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I felt like I was on cloud nine. I had heard my baby's heartbeat. I had seen it's little body, the size of a blueberry, the shape of a kidney bean. I was going to do everything I could to keep her safe. I say her, because I believe she was a girl. </div>
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I came home and showed John and the kids the ultrasound photo. I showed them where the doctor had measured the heartbeat. Everyone was so happy. Over the course of the next two weeks, the little boys would say things like, "Mom, when the baby comes, don't buy it any blankets, because I'm going to put my Batman cape on him." and when I dropped off the kids at school and would say I love you, Twin B, who is seven now, would say, "I love you, too! And I love your baby!" The 8-year-old boy would address everything I did or ate and say, "Mom, is that good for the baby? Is that food healthy for it? Are electronic devices bad for it? Is it okay if I lean on your stomach?" They were completely enthralled with the idea of a new baby. </div>
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The first day I took my progesterone capsule, I experienced one of the side effects that was previously unknown to me. As I was driving the 5-year-old boy home, I began to feel dizzy and confused. My eyes couldn't focus and I felt like I was drunk. I carefully pulled up the car to the house and staggered inside. I realized that this must be an effect of the medication, so I looked it up, and sure enough, apparently progesterone can cause dizziness or a spinning sensation. In my body, this also translated as extreme tiredness. I went down for a nap as soon as I could, and I realized that I would need to be very careful of when I took this medication and what activities I participated in while I was on it. </div>
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Thus, my routine became the following. Wake up at 6:30, get the kids off to school, take my medication, go to sleep for two hours while Esther cleaned, wake up, pick up the 5-year-old boy from preschool, make lunch for the other kids, who all return home at lunch hour every day, get them back off to school, take another two-hour nap with the 5-year-old boy, head off to play practice for two hours, come home and make dinner, do the homework and bedtime routine and fall into bed. This went on for two weeks. I did very little around the house, occasionally some laundry, prepared simple meals, and other than that, I sat at the piano at the high school. But there was one problem: I felt too good. My nausea was present, but so minuscule that is hardly bothered me. And I wasn't tired and fatigued, as usual. I thought this was simply because I slept four hours each day, then slept well at night. I talked to friends about this concern. Some said that God was blessing me and taking away my nausea. Others said I had reason to be concerned. And so I waited. And waited. And finally the two weeks passed and it was time to see the doctor again. </div>
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It took him only twelve minutes to beckon me into his office. He again took my vitals. I hadn't gained any weight, and I was thrilled about that. My blood pressure was perfect. I laid on the table. I twisted my head to see the screen. Finally the screen presented my baby. I could see her, still kidney-shaped, but now the size of a grape, as I would tell all of the teenage girls in the musical who would ask about my baby day by day. And I waited. I waited to see that fluttering, grainy, black and white imagine in her chest, her strong heart beat, the heart we had just seen two weeks before, but all was still. I thought maybe I didn't understand what I was seeing. Then the doctor said it. "Jeni. El bebe no vive." I let out a sound that was like I got kicked in the stomach. I felt everything deflate in my body. There was the baby. Lying so still, cradled in the bottom of my uterus. I asked the doctor if he knew why it had died. He said that the placenta was attached and that the progesterone had worked, but that all the bed rest and progesterone in the world wouldn't have saved the baby because 80% of all babies who die at this stage die because of some sort of defect. This was a great comfort to me, knowing that we had done all we could.</div>
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I knew immediately what I must do. My normal inclination would have been to leave the doctor's office and let the baby come when it would. I knew my doctor wouldn't like that idea, but it is what I would have done. I would have scheduled the D&C, then called back later to cancel it and let my baby come in its own due time. But the musical was in three days. What if she started to come during one of the performances? I could make preparations for the blood, but could I deal with the pain? No, I could not. Not during three-hour performances where I would need every once of concentration.</div>
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So I went to John's office. I called him from the parking lot and asked him if this was a good time for me to come up. He sounded so happy to know that I was there, and said of course it was. I picked up the ultrasound picture that said "Bebe aborto" and the list of doctor's instructions in Spanish, and went up the stairs. He immediately saw the ultrasound picture in my hand and concern spread across his face. This was the first time I had ever been to visit him randomly in his office. I told him that the baby didn't make it. His face fell. He came over to the side of his desk where I was and hugged me. He didn't say anything for a while, and then he said he was sorry. I said I was sorry to.</div>
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So I made the appointment for the D&C for that night. And I didn't call later to cancel it. I had left play practice for my appointment, and when I came back, and began playing the piano, the music director looked at me with concern, and asked if everything went okay. I was playing the piano, and there were many students in the vicinity, so I just smiled and nodded. After my song was over, I sat down next to her and didn't say anything. She then turned to me again, and said, "So everything is okay? Everything went okay?" Then I told her the truth. I had to repeat myself because she had a hard time processing it. I told her that I would go get the D&C that evening and that I would be back for rehearsal the next day. By this time we were having six hour rehearsals every day. She looked at me aghast and said that under no circumstances was I to come back the next day, that if I really wanted to do what was right and be there for the kids, that I would make sure I was healthy for the actual performances. She said that missing practices was not a big deal, but being too sick to perform because I hadn't recovered correctly would be much worse. I finally agreed. </div>
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I then walked across campus to where the 14-year-old boy was playing a football game. Everyone in town was there, or so it seemed, people who I hadn't seen for a week or two, and everyone asked, with a cheerful smile, how my pregnancy was going. If they asked in front of many people, I lied and said everything was fine. And this is not me. I loathe lying. I try never to do it, but I didn't know what else to do. Finally someone asked me privately, and I told her the truth. I then went to find one of my best friends, who was selling concessions for the booster club, and pulled her aside and told her. Other people came up to me randomly, and asked how my pregnancy was going, and if there were many people around, I lied again, and if we were in private, I told them the truth. It was excruciating. My baby was lying dead inside me and I was having to look into the eyes of so many people I love and who love me and feel their sadness and try to be strong and brave and tell them that I was okay, that I thought something might be wrong, so that made it a little easier. I could tell that they didn't believe that little lie either. I couldn't really concentrate on my son's game, but fortunately, one rambunctious father behind me kept announcing what play my son had made. "Jen!" he would yell. "Did you see what your boy did? He just sacked the quarterback!" and "Jen! That was your boy! He just recovered a fumble!" Thus, after the game, I was able to go onto the field to congratulate my son and say, "Son! You sacked the quarterback! That was amazing!" I didn't tell him that I hadn't actually<i> seen</i> his plays, though. </div>
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And finally the time came to go home and make preparations to go to the hospital. I called my mom. She said, "Jen, I just feel so sad right now." I told her I did, too. We talked for a long while, then I said goodbye to the kids and headed to the hospital in the big town, where John would be waiting for me. </div>
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I was very nervous as I drove alone. I prayed a lot. I had had a D&C before and I remembered that it wasn't pleasant. The last time I had had to stay in the hospital for twelve hours, which was longer than my stay when I delivered Baby Hippo. And the epidural. I hate the epidural. The burning of the needles as they are being placed in your back and for some reason the anesthesiologist has to grunt and shove for many minutes until they are in the right place. It's a very disturbing sensation. And although you can't feel the pain of the procedure, you can still feel the uncomfortable scraping sensation, the sensation that seems to go on and on and on, even though it's only 25 minutes or so. Then the recovery, when you can't move your legs for two hours, and when the feeling finally comes back, it's the prickly sensation that your legs have been asleep for hours, which they have been. I didn't want to do this again. But I had to.</div>
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When I arrived at the hospital, John was already there with a calming smile on his face. I was assigned a bed and the tech came in and began prepping me for the procedure. He attempted to put a needle in my vein to get blood for lab work, then to attach the IV, but he didn't succeed the first time. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. And he did. John was sitting on the sofa bed beside mine watching. After he attached the vile that was to go to the lab to the needle, filled it up, then removed it, apparently he had made no plan to stop my blood from continuing to flow once the vile was removed. So my blood began forcefully pumping out of the back of my hand onto the floor. It was pumping in spurts. I watched in fascination, thinking, "There is all my blood, going down onto the floor." He became flustered when he realized what was happening and quickly asked John to come and help him. John got up, took the offered vile, and the tech finally was able to stop my blood from being spilled all over the floor. After he left, John and I laughed, saying that that was the sloppiest job we'd ever seen and that he was lucky that John was there to help!</div>
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Then we waited and waited some more. I thought I would message a few people to let them know what had happened. One friend I messaged works with her husband in the big town, and said they would be right over. These were the same friends who came to visit me in the hospital when this same procedure was done three years ago. I felt so comforted that I would see them again before going into the delivery room. They arrived only minutes before I was wheeled out, though, but it was still a blessing to have been able to feel of their love before I went in. </div>
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I said goodbye to John and suggested that this would probably be a good time for him to go home and get the kids, as I knew I wouldn't be out for at least another 45 minutes. Earlier in the day John has suggested that we bring the kids to visit me in the hospital. I knew it would be an uncomfortable and perhaps difficult experience for them, but he suggested that it might be good closure, since they would probably have a difficult time understanding and processing what had happened. I felt like this was a wonderful idea. </div>
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So he kissed me goodbye and I was wheeled to the delivery room. I don't like that they do this procedure in the delivery room, because I was there before, giving birth to a big, beautiful baby boy five years earlier, and it brought up so many of the amazing memories a mother feels when she gives birth. I looked at the incubator my baby boy had been in. I remembered when my doula had told me while he was crowning that she could see his hair, and that it was black. I remembered that "gloriously empty" feeling of just having a baby, when all the pain is over and there is nothing but joy and elation. None of that would happen for me now. </div>
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The anesthesiologist entered the room. He is a wonderful, caring man, as most anesthesiologists are. He has a tender smile and comforting eyes and constantly reassured me. When he was finished with the insertion of the epidural, I looked at my heart rate and noticed that it was faster than usual at 88 beats for minute. He said it was probably because I was nervous. So as we waited for the doctor to enter, I laid very still and focused on the most calming relaxing thought I could think of. That thought was of me and the 5-year-old boy taking a nap together, with his little arm around my waist. As I lay there, I could hear the beeps of my heartbeat slowing. It eventually got down to 75 beats per minute. I told the anesthesiologist that I was meditating and that it had slowed my heart rate. He complimented me on succeeding to do that. </div>
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Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the doctor came in and began preparation for the procedure. The prep seemed to take forever, and as the nurse and the two doctors spoke Spanish to each other, I continued to think of my lovely calming thought and to focus on keeping my heartbeat slow. The procedure finally began and I realized it wasn't as bad as I remembered it to be. The doctors started joking with each other and brought me in on the conversation at times, too. Sometimes the doctor would pop his head up and ask things like, "Jeni. Como se dice toz en Ingles?", which, being translated, means "How do you say cough in English?" I answered him and then both doctors tried to say the word in English. Then they both began making coughing sounds using the word "cough" to try to makes sense of it. They asked me about other English words and tried to say them, and then began trying to talk to me in their limited English. I told the anesthesiologist that it was okay if he spoke in Spanish, that I understood enough, and he laughed and said in Spanish, "Oh! So you think that it's easier to understand my Spanish than it is my English and I shouldn't even try!" Then they began talking about the musical that was to take place at the Academy. They asked if I knew anything about it. I laughed to myself and said yes, that that was why I opted for the epidural instead of the general anesthesia because I was the pianist and needed to recover quickly! They confirmed with me that we would be performing Fiddler on the Roof, then they began to hum and whistle "If I Were a Rich Man." This made me laugh along with all of their other antics and before I knew it, it was over and I was being covered with a thick blanket and being wheeled back to my room. It was then, as I was being wheeled down the hall, that I saw John and the kids waiting for me. It was wonderful to see their faces. </div>
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When I was settled into my room, they took turns coming in to see me. The twins seemed somewhat nervous, but I smiled and laughed with them and they opened up soon after. I got hugs from everyone and we said a family prayer together, John having sneaked all of the kids in at one time. It was such a calming, warming feeling to do this. John asked if I wanted him to stay the night with me, but I said I would be fine. I was looking forward to some time to read and rest. </div>
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Mexican hospitals are amazing. The staff never bothered me for the rest of the night but one time to give me an antibiotic. I didn't sleep well, because the mattress was only a four-inch plastic pad, but I felt peaceful and relaxed. The next morning John came to visit me before work, then a good friend who lives in the big town brought me breakfast. I was so relieved because my hospital breakfast consisted of dry toast, orange drink and papaya, which I think smells like throw-up. John ate my papaya for me and I ate my friends delicious ham, egg and spinach mini quiches and a half sliced avocado. John went to work, but she was able to stay with me until I was discharged. We talked about many things, but mostly I was able to process what I had gone through over the previous twenty-four hours. I needed to do that. </div>
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I drove myself home, although the doctor was not happy about that, and I rested in bed most of the rest of the day. I wrote an email to the main director and the music director and let them know the procedure has been successful and that I would be at rehearsal the next morning. They both insisted that that was not necessary and that they would see me on Thursday, the day of the first performance. But I felt good and I knew I also needed to practice a bit more with the kids, so I showed up on Wednesday morning. The music director said, "You're not very obedient, are you. You need a spanking and I know you don't even believe in spankings." We both laughed and got to work. By this time, the word of what had happened had filtered down to many of the students and I don't remember getting so many hugs in one day. Some of the students just came and hugged me, not saying a word. Others came and hugged me and said they were sorry. My nephew, a 6 foot 6 blond and blue-eyed senior, who spends most of our time together trying to make my life as miserable as possible, mocking my food choices, my mothering skills and even my dogs, came up from behind me and leaned down and planted a huge kiss on my cheek. He said nothing, but just smiled and kept walking up to the stage. The kid behind him, who I had never met, seemed very confused and turned to me and said he wasn't going to do that. I told him that's okay.</div>
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I spent the next three days at school, and in bed and when all of the performances were over and were a huge success, I felt like I could finally let go physically and emotionally. I stayed in bed most of the day on Saturday. I cried most of the night. And on Sunday, I felt better. I attended church, hosted a large family dinner, then slept some more. As I write this, I feel nearly fully recovered, six days later, but I know I need to ease into things carefully. I've been on partial bed rest for four weeks now and I know it's going to take a while to get up to my normal and preferred speed. The kids have spring break this week, so I won't have to worry about schedules. The house will fall to pieces, I know this, but it will be wonderful to do what we want, when we want and just be together as a family. </div>
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I keep wondering why this all happened during this six-week period of time I had decided to dedicate to the musical, a time that I had known would be taxing in just a normal situation. The discovery of the pregnancy, the explosion of the van, the three weeks of partial bed rest and finally the saddening and disappointing news of the loss of our sweet baby and the subsequent procedure. I have wondered if it was to teach my kids and the kids who knew of my situation in the musical perseverance. I have wondered if we were to learn to place our lives in God's hand and to accept his will in all things. I have wondered if the kids were supposed to experience loss to prepare them for the bigger losses they will inevitably experience at some point later in life. All I know is that I hope I can learn all that God wants me to learn during this journey. In a church meeting I attended this weekend, we were taught that God's plan for us is perfect. I have thought about that a lot. Our lives our difficult, sometimes even full of many burdens to be born, but this is His plan for us. He designs each of our lives as a perfect fit to our individual spirits to help us grow and be refined into the people He wants us to become. It is up to us to choose to become "better or bitter". I hope I am choosing that better path.</div>
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As always, thanks for listening. :) I miss you and I hope to write more in the near future. Have a wonderful week.</div>
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By the way, here are some photos of the musical, followed by a photo of what I look like now, since it's been so long since I've showed my face to you. The clean-shaven boy on the right in the first photo is my 14-year-old boy, and even the twins (in bottom photo) got to participate... :)</div>
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-78688072116648819722014-06-30T23:58:00.002-06:002017-09-14T22:28:00.641-06:00Internationally-Renowned Multi-Grain Bread<div style="text-align: center;">
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So I might start blogging again. I've been pretty unreliable and disappointing. I apologize. Forgive me? Thank you! :)<br />
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Over the course of the past couple of years, a lot has changed. I'll probably go into all that gradually. But the reason for this post is related to one of my new endeavors. I now have a bakery. And one of my items, the multi-grain bread, has become internationally renowned, meaning that it is popular in a few of the small Mexican towns in my vicinity and in the U.S. border town where I visit my mom regularly.<br />
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That being said, because this summer has become filled with wonderful, time-consuming and amazing events, one of which includes the wedding of the beautiful 19-year-old girl, I have temporarily closed the bakery, thus, leaving people in the surrounding towns desperately seeking solutions to the problem of lacking fresh multi-grain bread. Some people have said that they would literally die without it. Some have offered to pay twice it's worth. Some have threatened to discontinue to speak to me in a civil tone. Thus, in an effort to offer a solution of sorts to this grave problem, I will now post the recipe for my internationally renowned multi-grain bread. Don't worry, I'm not giving away a centuries-old family secret, such as on Seinfeld's "The Soup Nazi". I got this recipe at www.allrecipes.com, but just tweaked it a little. As a side note, many have also asked for my internationally renowned chocolate chip cookie recipe. This is also no secret. It is on the back of the yellow Nestle chocolate chips bag.<br />
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So here you go.... Enjoy!<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Multi-Grain Bread</span></b></div>
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Yields 6 medium-sized loaves<br />
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6 cups water</div>
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3 cups oatmeal</div>
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6 tablespoons butter</div>
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1 1/2 cups honey</div>
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Another 1 1/2 cups warm water to dissolve the yeast</div>
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3 tablespoons yeast</div>
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6 cups whole wheat flour</div>
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1 cup other flour. I usually use maseca or American corn meal, but you can use any flour. I've used quinoa, and white bean flour. Whatev.</div>
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2 tablespoons salt</div>
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1/4 cup Chia seed</div>
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1/4 cup sesame seed</div>
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1/4 cup flax seed</div>
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8 cups white flour, sometimes more, sometimes less. </div>
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1. Bring water and oats to a boil. Add honey and butter. Let sit for one hour.</div>
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2. In a Bosch or other dough mixer, dissolve yeast in water for 5 minutes.</div>
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3. Add oatmeal mixture, whole wheat flour, other flour, seeds, and salt. </div>
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4. Start mixing, and add the white flour while it's mixing. </div>
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5. Knead for 15 minutes. The dough should be a little sticky, to where when you dump it out of the Bosch, it sticks to the middle, but not the sides. 8 cups of white flour usually does it for me.</div>
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6. Let rise until doubled.</div>
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7. Divide into 6 pans and let rise until doubled.</div>
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8. Bake at 350 for about 35 to 40 minutes. I like to brush mine with egg and sprinkle it with seeds before it bakes. It's beautiful like that. </div>
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9. Let cool on racks.</div>
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-51193235893752463802013-09-28T19:52:00.003-06:002013-09-28T19:54:25.387-06:00Who Are The Mormons?Here's an awesome graphic that might help you to understand Mormonism better. Please email questions to mom2my9{at}gmail{dot}com or leave them in the comments section. Thanks for listening. :)<br />
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<a href="http://www.mormonnewsroom.org/article/mormonism-101?cid=mormon_101_mormonism_Infographic"><img src="http://www.mormonnewsroom.org/media/mormon-101-mormonism_Infographic.jpg/orig" /><img alt="" height="1" src="http://nom.lds.org/b/ss/ldsmediadivisionbeta/1/H.24.2/0?mtp=embedded-infographic-page&v5=D=Referer&ev=event3&v3=mormon_101_mormonism_Infographic" width="1" /></a>
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<a href="http://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=blogspot/rtNn"><img src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Copy2ofNew_Page_5.jpg" /></a></div>
Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-89565058106269448192013-09-09T08:53:00.004-06:002017-09-14T18:36:17.090-06:00The Easiest Bread I've Ever Made (No-Knead Crusty Bread)<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRAQ8GtVvJh-nFEvpCrVjgeTHlnRHhlucZyiXYhaKKDxCMDOYREBvtw70AGHBd9GM43HSQPl8OB3KM0zdnbfIFS1Rs6mj5cbzmh8Ob9g9HJxwZsHZnEqOtHhXwPKCQi7dl7Xx1VKRNASb/s1600/bread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="379" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRAQ8GtVvJh-nFEvpCrVjgeTHlnRHhlucZyiXYhaKKDxCMDOYREBvtw70AGHBd9GM43HSQPl8OB3KM0zdnbfIFS1Rs6mj5cbzmh8Ob9g9HJxwZsHZnEqOtHhXwPKCQi7dl7Xx1VKRNASb/s1600/bread.jpg" /></a></div>
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This by far the easiest bread I've ever made. And it is delicious, perfect for soup season. You don't knead it, just stir and let it sit overnight, heat a pot in the oven, and pop it in. I'm grateful I came across Simply So Good's blog. There are some amazing recipes. The no-knead crusty bread recipe is <i><a href="http://www.simplysogood.com/2010/03/crusty-bread.html">HERE</a></i>. Thanks for listening! :)<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-81546057829647769492013-04-05T22:51:00.001-06:002017-09-14T22:37:17.793-06:00Spring Break at Grandma's and at the HotelFor some reason, I find many children in small spaces endearing....<br />
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...like in the bathtub, after inflatable pool time....<br />
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This picture doesn't adhere to the theme, but it awed me because, although the 4 boys under 7 didn't fold their clothes, they neatly placed them by the hotel window, without being asked, in preparation for hotel pool time.....<br />
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<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/user/jenwhet/media/2DSC_0033_zps014b49c9.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo 2DSC_0033_zps014b49c9.jpg" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/2DSC_0033_zps014b49c9.jpg" /></a> </div>
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...water gun time....<br />
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...and gratefully, bedtime....<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-16317554750497586052013-03-26T23:21:00.001-06:002013-03-26T23:21:42.228-06:00Pizza Time with the kids, featuring my Sister with the Ph.D.Things are always great when my sister with the Ph.D. comes to town. She spends hours coming up with and implementing activities for the kids to do and has seemingly endless energy. Her project for today was pizza-making for the 13-year-old boy's birthday. They had such a great time. Look....<br />
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Baby Hippo was in charge of designing his own pizza. He didn't do too bad...<br />
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My sister with the Ph.D. is amazing with her dough. It's a special recipe that needs to sit for 24 to 72 hours. Hopefully I'll be able to share it with you here soon. :)</div>
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The 6-year-old boy got to design some pizzas as well. He did an awesome job...</div>
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Baby Hippo knows how to pile on the pepperoni...</div>
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Patiently waiting....</div>
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One of my favorite photos of the day....</div>
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The favored pizza... bacon and caramelized onion...</div>
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More patient waiting by Twin B....</div>
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Just some delicious cilantro in my mom's window sill.....</div>
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The vegetarian pizza before we popped it in the oven.... so delicious!</div>
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Some spice racks my sister with the Ph.D., my brother and the 11-year-old girl built for my mom. The 11-year-old girl whittled the crossbars herself. :)</div>
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The 11-year-old girl....</div>
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A boy who is staying with us during our Spring Break, enjoying the bounty....</div>
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My brother, about to consume his share.....</div>
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Me, totally posing for the camera... :)</div>
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Thanks for listening and have a great day! :)</div>
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-70952403005406672162013-02-13T13:18:00.004-07:002013-02-13T13:18:58.957-07:00Desire<div style="text-align: center;">
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-10009689574188930722013-02-01T14:06:00.002-07:002013-02-01T14:06:30.084-07:00Breakfast<div style="text-align: center;">
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-37357156827764047722013-01-30T21:56:00.000-07:002013-01-31T08:37:42.791-07:00And Yet More Talk of PancakesI never tire of pancakes. There are so many ways one can make them, and some days I like to give the kids a few different choices simply by sprinkling different toppings on my <a href="http://rtheyallyours.blogspot.mx/2011/02/100-whole-wheat-blender-pancake-mix.html">traditonal blender pancakes</a> after I do the first flip.<br />
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For a recent breakfast, I made a few plain pancakes, then sprinkled the next batch with cinnamon and sugar, and called them cinnamon toast pancakes, and ended by sprinkling my seed mix on the remaining batch. I call these birdseed pancakes....<br />
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My mixture is made of equal parts chia, flax and sesame seeds, which I mixed in a jar. For easy sprinkling, I stabbed holes in the lid with a pair of kitchen scissors...<br />
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My all-time favorite pancakes, thus far in my existence, are the birdseed blender pancakes. I try to limit myself to 2 pancakes, 2 teaspoons of butter, and 1 tablespoon of syrup, which adds up to about 340 calories. For the complete nutrition data, go <i><a href="http://nutritiondata.self.com/facts/recipe/1832040/2">HERE</a></i>.<br />
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So have fun with your pancakes! Add struessel, sprinkles, pecans, thinly sliced apples, or anything else that might come to mind. Leave your ideas in the comment section, and as always, thanks for listening! :)<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-20091615324639242742013-01-23T23:00:00.003-07:002013-01-23T23:00:29.601-07:0010 Ways I Avoid Deliciously Tempting Unhealthy Foods<div style="text-align: center;">
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One of the things I love about being the mom of a large family is that our home is always full of visitors and friends. And my kids' friends know there is always going to be something good to eat on the stove or the island. One of my favorite compliments ever, granted by one of my daughter's friends, was, "Mom (what he calls me), your house always smells good.
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I admit it. Even though I am trying to subsist on a "clean" diet, I love to bake, and most of the time I try to sneak in things like zucchini, spinach or black beans. But sometimes I love to bake things that don't have one single healthy ingredient in them, except for maybe dark cocoa powder. And this is wherein my weakness lies; in snacking on dough balls, or spoonfulls of brownie batter, in testing my creations when they are hot out of the oven, in taking a little cutting of cake, pie or brownies every time I walk by the island. And since I started diligently counting and logging my daily calorie intake, I've realized that these little endevours, though small, add up, and can actually double my daily caloric allowance if I'm not careful. No wonder I've been at a plateau for so long!<br />
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So here are ten things I do to avoid reaching for my delicious baked goods or other unhealthy foods that may have made their way into my home.<br />
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1. <b>Exercise:</b> This is the single most important motivational change I have made when it comes to eating healthy. If I get up at 5:10 in the morning, drive in the frigid temperatures to our school gym, then sweat and pant for 45 minutes, I had better be getting something out of it. And I do... I can feel it all start to harden and tone.... underneath this layer of fat. I want my hard work to show! So whenever I think about eating something unhealthy, I think of how unsupportive of my fitness goals it will be.<br />
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2. <b>Drink Water:</b> Sometimes the body's hunger and thirst signals can become confused, and thinking you are hungry can really just mean you are thirsty. If I feel the urge to start snacking on those chocolate chip cookies, I first go drink a big glass of water.<br />
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3. <b>Put the unhealthy food away:</b> As I mentioned before, my kids' friends know that there is usually going to be something delicious out on the counter, but I've learned that this tempts me beyond that which I can bear. So after everyone has had their fill, I wrap things up in foil or plastic, and put it up high in the pantry or behind something. Since my memory is so far gone, I actually forget it's there, until someone asks for it. Then I tell them that I hid it from myself. They say, "Mom, how can you hide something from yourself?" I tell them when you have a memory problem like I do, it's easy. Even if you do remember where they are, which most of you will, it will be a lot of trouble to get to them, and you'll have time to talk yourself out of it.<br />
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4. <b>Make Salads in Jars:</b> I elluded to this in one of my posts last week, and I'll ellaborate a little bit here. I've taken to making 6 salads in jars at a time (<i>the black bean variety shown above</i>), which last me about 3 days. Just put the wettest stuff on the buttom and layer everything else in like manner. This is so handy, because when you feel like taking your brownies out of the hiding place you suddenly remembered, you can tell yourself, "Okay, if I eat this entire jar of salad, I can have one small brownie". But usually, by the time you eat the salad, you feel so full and also filled with pride for eating right, that you don't even wan't the brownie.<br />
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5. <b>Reach for something healthy instead:</b> Similar to the previous tip, if I'm really wanting something unhealthy, I often say, again, "Okay, if I eat half a pound of raw vegetables right now, I can have a small amount of the other." Again, by the time I'm done, I am no long in a a physical or emotional position to crave that unhealthy food. However, if I do end up eating it, it's only a small piece.<br />
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6. <b>Try essential oils:</b> Taking certain essentials oils can decrease your appetite or leave a taste in your mouth not conducive to snacking. My favorite oil to use, right before I start cooking or baking, to avoid piecing as I go, is <a href="http://www.mydoterra.com/jenniferlwhetten/">DoTerra's "Slim and Sassy"</a>. It's a blend which includes citrus oils, peppermint, cinnamon and ginger, which leaves a minty, cinnamonny, refreshing taste in your mouth that doesn't go well with tortilla chips and cheese sauce. If you'd like more info on DoTerra oils, you can go to my consultant site <i><a href="http://www.mydoterra.com/jenniferlwhetten/">HERE</a></i>.<br />
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7. <b>Keep something in your mouth:</b> Another way I avoid picking and piecing as I'm cooking is to suck on a cough drop or starlight mint type of candy. This also makes snacking, especially on savory foods, unappetizing.<br />
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8. <b>Watch a youtube video:</b> Go run and watch a youtube video about how to make a delcious healthy recipe, or learn about clean diets, or watch inspiring weight-loss videos. Today I watched one on how to make chia pudding, and I made it this very evening! I'll post the recipe here soon.<br />
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9. <b>Call a friend:</b> Or in my case, a sister. If I'm having a bad day as far as sticking to my diet, a call to my sister always does the trick. She's a genius, you know, and always has an idea to help me solve my problem, whatever it may be. Your friend doesn't have to be a genius, just someone who is supportive of your goals and encourages you to make healthy choices.<br />
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10. <b>Pray:</b> Every morning I thank God that He gave me the will to get up at 5:10 and go exercise, and I ask Him to help me make good food choices for the rest of the day. He wants us to be healthy and to feel good, and with His help, we can do hard things, like getting into shape.<br />
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Speaking of which, in closing, let me just share a quote I read a few weeks ago that really struck me...<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Losing weight is hard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Being overweight is hard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Pick your hard.</span></div>
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As an entertaining anecdote, the 12-year-old boy's response? "Just don't gain weight and you're good." Truer words were never spoken. So, best of luck with your fitness goals this week, and thanks for listening! :)<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-47485917871462083142013-01-20T22:11:00.002-07:002013-01-21T08:03:00.734-07:00More Twin Talk<div style="text-align: center;">
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The last time I did a post on twin talk, they were only speaking in short phrases. Now they speak in complete sentences, but are still similarly difficult to understand. What is fascinating to me, however, is that Baby Hippo, who grew up learning both regular human English and Twin Talk, has become a convenient translator. He's bilingual. For instance, the other day in the kitchen, Twin B said this to me: "Mom, tan you tut dis in too-aires?" I asked him to say it to me over and over again, but I just couldn't get it. Baby Hippo was sitting right next to him, so I said, "Baby Hippo, what does Twin B want?" And he said, "He said he wants you to cut it in stu-aires! Oh, I can't say it ee-doh!" But as he said the word "stu-aires", he made the shape of a square with his fingers, thus communicating with me that Twin B wanted his sandwich cut into squares.<br />
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Here are just a few more phrases you might need to learn if you ever come to visit.....<br />
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1. Tan we payla peelah? <i>Can we play the computer?</i><br />
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2. Tan we pay wit pah-lay dough? <i>Can we play with play dough?</i><br />
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3. Ih Daddy doe-ing to da toe? <i>Is Daddy going to the store?</i><br />
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4. Tan we det some upteem? <i>Can we get some ice cream?</i><br />
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5. Tan we wats deSPITaboh me? <i>Can we watch Despicable Me?</i><br />
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6. Dat's a Chinchmitch tee! <i>That's a Christmas tree!</i><br />
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7. Dear Hebney fah-der, Tane dee Daddy doe tah wort. <i>Dear Heavenly Father, we're thankful Daddy goes to work.</i><br />
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8. I'm feeling a li-loh bit tit. <i>I'm feeling a little bit sick.</i><br />
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9. Luwt I tuh-low!<i> Look what I colored!</i><br />
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10. Mom, dis is weally duwt. <i>Mom, this is really good. </i><br />
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11. Mom, he not lelling me pah-lay wit him! <i>Mom, he's not letting me play with him!</i><br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-63709200071849273222013-01-17T22:05:00.000-07:002013-01-17T22:05:40.697-07:00Potato and Corn Chowder<div style="text-align: center;">
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This is just an easy, hearty soup that even the teen-age carnivore boy loved. And instead of dicing the potatoes, I just scalloped them in the food processor really quick, and in order to better disguise the celery and onions, I grated them in the food processor.
Also, I completely forgot to add the corn, which, for the amount I made, was about a gallon... of corn. Rather strange that that happened. That is why the photo of the soup lacks color and character. Some kids were glad, some were sad, but no problem, I just added it later. Oh, and of course, I didn't add the bacon. Had the teenage boy but known that it was supposed to have bacon, but didn't, he would have hung his head low. Better to leave some things unsaid. <br />
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And from now on, unless I completely change up a recipe, I'm just going to give you the link. It's just as easy for you to click as to scroll right? Okay, good. So <i><a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/corn-and-potato-chowder/detail.aspx">HERE</a></i> is the link. Enjoy!<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-66629501524878192812013-01-16T14:38:00.003-07:002013-01-16T22:58:09.486-07:00Black Bean Boyfriend Brownies<div style="text-align: center;">
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This recipe is a modification of the original "<a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/boyfriend-brownies/">Boyfriend Brownies</a>" at allrecipes.com, my all-time favorite recipe site. For some reason I was really attracted to the name. It's just cute. Turns out that the author's brother's girlfriend used to make these for him, or something like that. Thus the name.
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When I posted this recipe to facebook, the first question that was asked was, "Why add black beans?" Well. Let me tell you why. Black beans benefit the digestive tract, help regulate blood sugar, improve cardiovascular health, decrease cancer risk, improve nervous system health, and are rich in molybdenum, a detoxifier, and a potential reducer of impotence in older men. To read the details of all these benefits, you can go <a href="http://www.healthdiaries.com/eatthis/6-health-benefits-of-black-beans.html"><i>HERE</i></a> if you want.<br />
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There are TONS of black bean brownie recipes out there, and I think my mother and I have tried them all. None to our satisfaction. Most of the time the kids wouldn't even eat them... sometimes not even the dog..... Wait, no. We didn't feed our dogs brownies. Dogs can die of chocolate. Anyway, these black bean brownie recipes were also health recipes, with no sugar, or flour, or butter usually. So that's why they were nasty, obviously.<br />
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What I wanted to create was a black bean brownie recipe that my kids would love, and not realize that they were ingesting black beans. So no, this is not a health-food brownie, but it's a healthier brownie than it would have been otherwise. Why not have your kids eat a tablespoon of black beans every time they snack on one of your brownies?<br />
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So what I did was take my favorite brownie recipe in the world, cut some of the flour, and add a cup of pureed black beans. The problem with my original attempt was that the only black beans I had were the ones I had made for dinner the night before, which I had seasoned with onions, bell peppers, salt and pepper. I really didn't think it would make a <i>huge</i> difference though. It turned out that anyone who didn't know they were eating the previous night's bean soup couldn't detect anything wrong, but the ever-discerning taste-buds of the 17-year-old girl claimed to have sensed a slight onion taste in the brownies. I think she was just being a little bit delusional and dramatic. But who cares anyway. The other 7 kids liked them, so that's all that matters.<br />
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Here's the recipe. Enjoy!<br />
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<div class="ki-recipe-card" data-recipe-id="162628501" data-hide="true"></div><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.keyingredient.com/recipes/widget.js"></script>
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Ingredients</h3>
<table cellpadding="10" cellspacing="0" class="ingredients" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;"><tbody style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">½</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">cups all-purpose flour</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">½</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">teaspoon baking soda</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">½</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">teaspoon salt</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">¾</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">cups white sugar</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">2</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">T water</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">⅓</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">cup butter</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">1</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">cup semisweet chocolate</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;"></td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">chips</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">2</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">teaspoons vanilla extract</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">1</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">cup pureed black beans</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">2</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">eggs</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">1</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">cup semisweet chocolate</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;"></td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">chips</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">½</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">cup coarsely chopped walnuts</td></tr>
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Directions</h3>
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1. Preheat an oven to 325 degrees F (165 degrees C). Combine the flour, baking soda, and salt in a small bowl; set aside. Grease and flour a 9×9-inch baking dish.</div>
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2. Combine the sugar, water, and butter in a saucepan. Cook and stir over medium heat until the butter has melted and the sugar has dissolved. Remove from the heat and stir in one bag of chocolate chips and the vanilla extract until the chocolate has melted. Pour the mixture into a mixing bowl, add black beans, and beat in the eggs one at a time until smooth. Fold in the flour mixture until incorporated, then fold in the remaining bag of chocolate chips along with the walnuts. Pour into prepared pan.</div>
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3. Bake in the preheated oven until the top is dry and the edges have started to pull away from the sides of the pan and knife inserted into center comes out with a small amount of bownie on it, 25 to 30 minutes. Cool completely before cutting into squares to serve.</div>
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<i>(Me, a few months ago, just because there were too many words without pictures) </i></div>
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That being said, once I became pregnant with Baby Hippo, I started to seriously crave McDonald's hamburgers in my first trimester. Some said that that was proof that my body wasn't getting what it needed. I say that it was my body going back to what it had known through the previous eight pregnancies to combat nausea.... hamburgers, french fries, and sickly sweet vanilla shakes. Those are some of the foods I used to ease my morning sickness when I was 18 and pregnant for the first time, and since then, when I get morning sickness, those are my go-to foods. But do you really think that was what my body needed? I think not.<br />
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After I delivered Baby Hippo, I immediately went back to a vegetarian diet, which is different from a vegan diet in that I added eggs and diary. The change was that I again removed meat from my diet.<br />
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Currently I'm mostly vegetarian. If I go out to eat, and nothing looks good on the vegetarian menu, I'll order some seafood, or if someone brings our family a meal which includes meat, or, if I attend a party, I'll eat some meat, but in my home, I still don't purchase or prepare meat. If the older kids want it, they can ask John to buy it and cook it themselves.<br />
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During my vegan months, I was inundated with questions and concerns about the vegan diet. Some wondered where I would get my protein, calcium, and iron, even though they themselves never pulled open a produce drawer, drank 6 sodas a day, and never stepped foot outside to exercise. I wasn't sure why my health had become such a concern to them all of a sudden. Even so, I armed myself with enough information to answer people's questions, that is if they weren't interrupting me, and hopefully I eased their minds as to the status of my health. Although I'm not vegan anymore, I still think it's a great way to live a long healthy life, and since my daughter, who introduced me to the vegan lifestyle, recently shared this very simple and informative graphic with me, one of the best I've seen, I'd like to share it with you.<br />
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Thanks for listening and enjoy.<br />
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<a href="http://ow.ly/cRdFW"><img border="0" src="http://www.mediapeta.com/infographics/VeganHealth/veganhealth-final.jpg" width="555" />
</a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-5742988225471385602013-01-11T22:24:00.002-07:002013-01-11T22:29:06.641-07:00My Cardio Station.... How I try to make it interesting....I don't know why, but my family members thought this graphic was funny. I'm trying to be serious. And inspiring. Maybe they're making fun of me because I have asthma. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0013-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0013" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0013-1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Anyway, here is my cardio station. Like most normal humans, I loathe doing cardio. They say to make it fun. Go hiking! Biking! Swimming in a lake! Skiing! That's all good and great for those, well, shall we say, unlike me. I've got a tight driving schedule to stick to with one to eight children at home at any given time during the day. So, for me, it's an indoor machine that supplies my cardio needs, and the one I use is an elliptical John bought for me about seven years ago. For the first 7 years I had it, I never used it. Okay, maybe once. So I gave it to my mother for her birthday a year after I got it. And she never used it. Okay, maybe once. Then, again, about a year ago, I told my mother I was taking it back, because she never used it. She said she was about to start. I didn't believe her and she admitted that she was lying.<br />
<br />
So I took it home, and I used it THREE times! But I hated it! I was always so bored! The time seemed to creep by at a sloth's speed, so I gave up. Again.<br />
<br />
However, with my new-found enthusiasm for getting into shape, I've come to realize that lifting weights, eating a healthy diet, AND doing cardio are all part of the program. So I moved my elliptical out into the living room, so I could use it while Baby Hippo is watching videos on the computer in the kitchen, and got set up.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
So that you completely understand the photo, I'll explain. I have my kindle set up as my timer, my current issue of Shape open to a special elliptical workout that mixes things up a bit, thus reducing the boredom factor, my inhaler, in case asthma strikes, which it rarely does, but just in case, my poly-carbonate cup of water, which is ridiculous because I really should have a water bottle. I spill all over myself when I try to drink and elliptisize. But most important is my laptop. I watch youtube videos while I go, and this helps the time go a little faster than at a sloth's speed. And I mostly watch videos about fitness or healthy recipes, to help me remember why I'm doing this. It works. Really.<br />
<br />
I really don't know why I shared this. My oldest daughter did tell me I'm an inspiration today and that she has gotten three of her friends to work out with her, which made me so happy. So, maybe someone out there reading this will get on their treadmill and start moving.<br />
<br />
Thanks for listening! :)<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-17450256010008063582013-01-10T23:17:00.001-07:002013-01-10T23:19:48.623-07:00Microwave Blueberry Oatmeal Muffins<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=a27921_10151223593809753_934703302_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="a27921_10151223593809753_934703302_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/a27921_10151223593809753_934703302_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Okay. Many of you asked about the photo with the blueberries in my last post. Some wanted the recipe, so here you go...<br />
<br />
To give credit where credit is due, I found this recipe on the blogilates channel on youtube. It features the cutest girl named Cassie Ho, a very popular fitness guru. If you want to try some great workouts, go see her.<br />
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Anyway, I love this recipe, because it's easy, filling, nutritious, and warm, which I love, because it seems I can never get warm enough these days. Hope you enjoy!<br />
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<div class="ki-recipe-card" data-hide="false" data-recipe-id="153464007">
<script src="http://www.keyingredient.com/recipes/widget.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
</div>
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<h3 style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px 0px 1em; padding: 0px;">
Ingredients</h3>
<table cellpadding="10" cellspacing="0" class="ingredients" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px; text-align: start;"><tbody style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">¼</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">cup oatmeal</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">1</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">egg</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">¼</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">teaspoon baking powder</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;"></td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">Pinch salt</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">1</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">T sweetener of your choice</td></tr>
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="amount" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 10px; text-align: right;">¼</td><td class="description" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin: 0px; padding: 5px 10px;">cup blueberries</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3 style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px 0px 1em; padding: 0px;">
Directions</h3>
<div class="directions" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em; padding: 0px;">
1. Lightly grease or spray a mug.<br />
2. Combine oatmeal, egg, baking powder and salt in mug and stir.<br />
3. Add blueberries, but it’s not necessary to stir them in.<br />
4. Microwave for 1½ to 2 minutes.<br />
5. Turn out onto a plate and serve.</div>
</div>
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-1772648623446945212013-01-09T22:26:00.003-07:002013-01-10T14:23:48.304-07:00A Summary in Pictures of Our Holiday Season<i>Note.... I'm currently working on the picture-sizing problem. Hopefully I'll get it corrected soon. Thanks for coming! ;)</i><br />
<br />
So.... probably another reason I haven't blogged is because I was swamped with Christmas activities during November and December. Try as I may to simplify, it never seems to happen during the holidays, especially for us musicians.<br />
<br />
Anyway, here is a summary in pictures of our goings-on. Hope you enjoy. And guess what? I would love some feedback besides from random people from Slovenia trying to inform me in broken English about debt consolidation and penis enhancement. I'm only human :) Thanks for coming. :)<br />
<br />
Let's start with a photo shoot I was asked to do of a beautiful and precious girl riding her adored horse. The four little ones got to tag along and had the time of their lives. Here she is...<br />
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<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=a178905_10151165350724753_1888727248_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="a178905_10151165350724753_1888727248_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/a178905_10151165350724753_1888727248_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
And here is a friend of ours who happened to be in the arena practicing his roping who I couldn't resist shooting...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=480870_10151165356019753_1410828713_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="480870_10151165356019753_1410828713_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/480870_10151165356019753_1410828713_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
And here are the littles...<br />
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<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=407643_10151165346919753_974064370_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="407643_10151165346919753_974064370_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/407643_10151165346919753_974064370_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=546989_10151165347874753_2095434575_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="546989_10151165347874753_2095434575_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/546989_10151165347874753_2095434575_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=644128_10151165353399753_566763090_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="644128_10151165353399753_566763090_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/644128_10151165353399753_566763090_n.jpg" /></a>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Next, we have a photo of the 10-year-old girl winning the regional 100-meter dash... fun times...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=705193_10151193177494753_1623225729_o.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="705193_10151193177494753_1623225729_o" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/705193_10151193177494753_1623225729_o.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Then there were all of the kids' school programs and dance recitals....<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=f430830_10151222641094753_622484514_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="f430830_10151222641094753_622484514_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/f430830_10151222641094753_622484514_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=f14716_10151222641469753_893384893_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="f14716_10151222641469753_893384893_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/f14716_10151222641469753_893384893_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=e560866_10151207014184753_1038002973_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="e560866_10151207014184753_1038002973_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/e560866_10151207014184753_1038002973_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=d483408_10151205646509753_654328404_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="d483408_10151205646509753_654328404_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/d483408_10151205646509753_654328404_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=704541_10151205649654753_13316891_o.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="704541_10151205649654753_13316891_o" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/704541_10151205649654753_13316891_o.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=d312839_10151205643279753_1880674917_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="d312839_10151205643279753_1880674917_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/d312839_10151205643279753_1880674917_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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There were visits to great-grandma, as depicted in this four-generation photo...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0115.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0115" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0115.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
And bowling....<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0216.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0216" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0216.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0122.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0122" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0122.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0099.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0099" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0099.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
And 3D movies...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=305662_10151184891359753_392012808_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="305662_10151184891359753_392012808_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/305662_10151184891359753_392012808_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=705118_10151184891614753_688606948_o.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="705118_10151184891614753_688606948_o" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/705118_10151184891614753_688606948_o.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=331702_10151184891784753_583676266_o.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="331702_10151184891784753_583676266_o" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/331702_10151184891784753_583676266_o.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
And then there was my first dog photo shoot. I couldn't resist my sister's little friend...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=g382921_10151230169724753_321492239_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="g382921_10151230169724753_321492239_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/g382921_10151230169724753_321492239_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
And of course, once Christmas rolled around, there were the downtown lights...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=h382006_10151230682994753_193674251_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="h382006_10151230682994753_193674251_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/h382006_10151230682994753_193674251_n.jpg" /></a>
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=h382006_10151230682994753_193674251_n.jpg" target="_blank"></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=h150986_10151230683159753_2053167635_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="h150986_10151230683159753_2053167635_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/h150986_10151230683159753_2053167635_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>(My cute brother and sister)</i></div>
<br />
...trying new healthy recipes, which I'll blog about later, unless you want the recipes now, in which case just leave me a comment....<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=a27921_10151223593809753_934703302_n.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="a27921_10151223593809753_934703302_n" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/a27921_10151223593809753_934703302_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0034.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0034" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0034.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
....kids making Christmas presents, like this copper and gem tree the 12-year-old boy made. He's selling these by the way. You can like or contact him <i><a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Sculptree/391374344280735?ref=ts&fref=ts">HERE</a></i>.... :)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0086.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0086" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0086.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
...playing in the 6 hours of snow we received in the border town where my mother lives...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_00302.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_00302" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_00302.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0002.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0002" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0002.jpg" /></a><a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0045.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0045" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0045.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>(Twin A simply watched all the fun through the pictures window in the warmth of my mother's den, which I thought was a smart idea) </i></div>
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....snacking in our favorite spot in Grandma's living room...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/?action=view&current=1DSC_0011.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="1DSC_0011" border="0" src="http://i943.photobucket.com/albums/ad274/jenwhet/Album%203/1DSC_0011.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
....and of course, opening presents on Christmas morning...<br />
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But by far, the most rewarding moments of our Christmas vacation were those spent helping my mother stucco and paint her house. We were a team of mostly child-laborer novices, my sister with the Ph.D. using only google as our guide, but we did it, and I can't think of a better way to have spent the time between Christmas and New Years....<br />
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Of course we needed a treat when we were finished...<br />
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Yes, saying goodbye to family is hard....<br />
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....but we treasure the memories that were created over this holiday season.
Thanks so much for listening. :)<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-11393513712546596172013-01-07T22:37:00.003-07:002013-01-07T22:37:58.380-07:00How I've Changed My Life For the BetterI haven't blogged in so long, I don't even know where to begin.....<br />
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Let me see.
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Okay, at least it's not because I was depressed like before. Honestly, I think the reason I haven't been blogging recently is because my laptop died, and I used to blog in my bedroom while waiting for Baby Hippo to fall asleep. With my laptop out of operation, I had to go all the way into the kitchen when I wanted to use the computer, but from there, I couldn't answer Baby Hippo's questions about Mexican popsicles and when is Daddy coming home.<br />
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But guess what! Dearest John bought me a brand new laptop for Christmas, and now I feel like I'm back in the game.<br />
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So when I wondered what I might tell you tonight, I thought of many things, but I think I would like to share the most amazing and inspiring change that has come over my life since I wrote my last post about the 16-year-old boy's bedroom.<br />
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After 17 long years, I have finally started exercising!<br />
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One of the things I love about the town I live in is that so many women are into fitness and health. There are two different formal exercise classes and many small groups who get together to walk, run, lift weights, or do Zumba. And for five years the most vocal of the exercise gurus have been trying to get me to attend their classes. I had one excuse after another..... I didn't know what to do with my kids, I didn't have time, I didn't get enough sleep, wah, wah, wah, but finally I woke up one day and realized I had no excuses left.<br />
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The twins started preschool in September and are gone for 2 and a half hours each morning, so I only have Baby Hippo at home, who is almost three years old, and perfectly capable of entertaining himself for 45 minutes. So a few days after my son returned from his mission, after sending the twins off to school, I turned on the abripper X video my sister sent me and tried it.<br />
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It was completely ridiculous. Most of the exercises I couldn't even do one rep of, and the ones I could do, I couldn't pass 5 or 6 reps. I couldn't do even <i>one</i> sit up. It was completely shameful. So I made sure to always do ab ripper when only Baby Hippo was home, because I didn't want anyone to see how pathetic I was. And to tell you the truth, I was shocked at how out of shape I had become. I do manual labor all day long, almost never sitting down except to eat, and that is only if I make myself. I hang my laundry, and run after kids, literally, and cook from scratch, so I should be in shape, right? No. Not at all, obviously.<br />
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But I kept at it, and after only a few weeks of ab ripper, I could do all 25 reps of many of the exercises! It was amazing how fast my body adjusted to my efforts and it was completely inspiring.<br />
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But I knew I had to do more than just work my abs. After all, what good is a ripped set of abs if I still have 2 inches of fat covering it? So I talked to one of my friends, who also has 8 kids at home, and she suggested that I go to the 5:45 am class and just have one of my older kids lay in my bed in case one of the little kids needed something. She said to pay him or her ten pesos, and I shouldn't have a problem. It was an amazing idea, and so I started going about asking who would like to lay in my bed every morning for 45 minutes while I exercised. The 12-year-old boy was the first person I asked, and accepted the opportunity immediately, knowing that he would now have enough money each week to buy the ginormous potatoes covered with cheese and butter they sell every Saturday night across from central park.<br />
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So I started going to the 5:45 pilates/aerobics/weight lifting class 6 days a week. The first day I did as much as I could, continuing until my muscles were BURNING, something I hadn't felt in years. The next day I went out to lunch with our exercise class instructor, and when she saw me try to walk, she starting laughing and said I was moving like I had just given birth. It felt that way, but much, <i>much</i> worse. And my children kept staring at me after they arrived home from school and asked what was wrong with me. This went on for three days, but I kept pushing through, and soon, I was only experiencing minor soreness, you know, the good kind, that lets you know you got a good work out.<br />
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I talked to a lot of people about my new exercise routine, and a few people said that since I was lifting, I might notice that my body would bulk up a bit before starting to thin down. And I'm soooo grateful for that warning, because although my body hasn't "bulked up" in the three months since I started working out, I haven't noticed a huge drop in weight or inches. However, everything is firmer, and things are lifting and curves are forming in the right places, and diminishing where they shouldn't be. But no, that's not all!<br />
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I think even more important than how I look is how I have begun to feel since I started exercising. I have an amazing amount of energy. Everyone said I would, and I knew they weren't lying, but I just didn't know how real it would be. I find myself literally bounding everywhere I go. I find myself doing calf raises when I'm standing in line a the grocery store and doing squats when I need to pick something up, and a few more after that just for good measure. And I'm STRONGER! SOOOO much stronger! I can easily toss a full kitchen trash bag over my shoulder now like it's nothing. I can carry heavy, full ice chests in from the car. I can hold Baby Hippo on my hip and not get fatigued, and best of all, I can fold laundry or stand on the sidelines of my son's football game for three hours without my back hurting.<br />
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It has been an amazing transformation, one that has snowballed into fueling a desire to learn everything I can about becoming fit and healthy. I've always tried to make healthy meals, but I now have a renewed determination to eat "clean" and to exercise not just to look good, but to feel good and strong and to live longer and to be a better mother and grandmother to my grandchildren once they come.<br />
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I'm loving this new life, and it is a new life, literally, and I would encourage all of you to start exercising if you aren't already. Let me know what you think!<br />
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And, as always, thanks for listening....<br />
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P.S. As I began writing this post, I saw that I had 200 unmoderated comments on my blog. Most of them were spam, but many were legit comments from faithful viewers. I don't know why they ended up in my spam folder, but I just wanted to let you know that if you left a comment recently and it never appeared, it's probably up now. Thanks so much for reading and commenting and I look forward to sharing and communicating with you in 2013!<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-10506103430932548662012-11-07T10:32:00.001-07:002012-11-07T10:57:11.386-07:00What I Found Under the 16-Year-Old Boy's Covers<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SyBXi9S1CJc">This</a></i> song just came on, and it reminded me that I have been meaning to write about the 16-year-old boy. I guess listening to Chris Rene singing about how he became clean, and remembering how the 16-year-old boy explained the song to me, pointing out where it was shot, in Santa Cruz, one of our most favorite vacation spots, and how long Chris has been clean, made me have warm and fuzzy feelings towards my oldest son at home. I love how he is moved by songs about <a href="http://rtheyallyours.blogspot.mx/2011/03/it-hurts-when-you-have-sore-throat-and.html">cowboys and their relationship with God</a> and former drug addicts and their road to recovery.<br />
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But the above paragraph isn't really what I wanted to write about. I wanted to tell you what I found on the 16-year-old boy's bed last week.<br />
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I had called John, and we were having a discussion about our budget, one that required diligent attention on my part. Extending this attention was difficult with the kids riding their new trike through the house, singing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNy8llTLvuA">The Cave</a> over and over, and throwing Legos across the dining room, so I decided to veer into the 16-year-old's room, which was the closest private area to my then current location. I closed the door behind me, then as I listened to John talk about how we would pay for what that week, I looked around in disgust at my son's bedroom. It smelled bad, like old football clothes and cowboy boots. And food. And a waffle-scented candle he lights sometimes to cover up all of the smells. And here is what his bed looked like...<br />
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He had slept in it only a few hours previously, incomprehensibly, but as I sat down on his bed to continue the conversation with John, and took a close look at what was actually on his bed, my heart started to melt and I realized what a sweet-on-the-inside football player/cowboy/electrician/teenage son I have. Let me show you.<br />
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First, we have his scriptures opened to where he fell asleep reading them the night before...<br />
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I notice that this happens often, and I find myself turning off his lamp and covering his feet in the dark hours when the house is perfectly still.<br />
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Next we have a Strength of the Youth pamphlet in Spanish....<br />
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The Strength of the Youth pamphlet is a set of guidelines the youth in our church, and should I say the youth of all the world, should live by. It includes information about prayer, Sabbath Day worship, appropriate dress, media, dating, and much more. If you'd like to read one in English, you can go <i><a href="https://www.lds.org/youth/for-the-strength-of-youth?lang=eng">HERE</a></i>.<br />
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Under the Fortaleza de la Juventud pamphlet, we have several Dr. Seuss books...<br />
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At the time I didn't know if he had been reading these to a younger sibling, or if he enjoyed them himself, but either way, endearing, don't you think? Later, after I'd asked him to clean his room, I went to check on it and saw large lumps under his comforter. I pulled it back, only to see all of these items still on his sheet. I said, "16-year-old boy. No." He said, "Mom! You can't just come in here and pull down my covers and say 'No'. These are all things I use every night!" And then, unapologetically, "And I read Dr. Seuss books." So there, without prompting, question answered.<br />
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Now we have a prayer rock....<br />
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I remember the family night when we painted these rocks. He was only about 9 years old. I was amazed that he still had it, and apparently uses it to remind himself to pray every night.<br />
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Next, I found a collection of Popular Mechanics and Science magazines....<br />
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The 16-year-old boy doesn't enjoy reading novels, but he can bury his nose in one of these magazines all morning. I love that he loves to learn.<br />
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And last, but not least, I found a stuffed rottweiler puppy in the corner of his bed....<br />
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I think he took it from his Grandma's house on the border town where I grew up. Need I say more? The whole concept of a football player sleeping with one of his grandma's stuffed animals is adorable.<br />
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For all the struggles parents go through with teenagers, some days we hit paydays, and that one day last week was one of them. I love the 16-year-old boy and the young man he has become....<br />
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Thanks for listening.<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-87116866182146771402012-10-23T20:06:00.002-06:002012-10-24T07:47:43.390-06:00Our Missionary Returns!<div style="text-align: center;">
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If you've been following me for a while, you'll remember that our first-born boy left for a 2-year mission for our church what seems like only a few short months ago. Well, apparently it's in reality been two years, and he's home now. Our reunion was delightful and here are the pictures to prove it. If you'd like to go to our farewell post, it's <i><a href="http://rtheyallyours.blogspot.mx/2010/09/images-from-last-time-we-will-see-18.html">HERE</a></i>.
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The following photo needs explaining. So my mom is very easily tricked and good-spirited about most things. She is also obsessed with Walmart, making multiple trips to the corporate giant each day. To take advantage of both of these traits, my sister with the Ph.D. thought it would be fun to give her a false later return date of our son, then stage a meeting at Walmart where she would go to the McDonald's inside her favorite Walmart for a Diet Coke and our son and the rest of us would be waiting there, completely unexpectedly.
I shared this plan with John, and he agreed to be the one to find a reason to invite my mother to go with him to Walmart at the specified time. John, however, had different plans. <i>HE</i> thought it would be fun to spoil our surprise and have my mother get through the airport x-ray somehow and meet the 20-year-old boy at the gate and surprise <i>US</i>.<br />
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So we waited, unsuspecting, and talked about and laughed about the upcoming Walmart surprise as we stood at the bottom of the escalator waiting for our son to greet us after waiting for two years.
And what to my surprise when I saw him, and saw that he was accompanied by an older woman. I could not figure out why he was behaving so familiarly with this woman until she got closer to us and I realized that she was my mother! I stood at the foot of the escalator with my hands on my hips and shouted, "This isn't FAIR!!" Here is their reaction to my exclamation.....<br />
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Many of the following photos are self-explanatory, so I will show them without commentary.....<br />
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My favorite part about the following photo is how the 20-year-old boy is on his knees, the better to hug Twin A.... :)<br />
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I still get warm and fuzzy inside when I remember hearing his flawless Spanish for the first time upon his return. Having learned Spanish on his mission will serve him well for the rest of his life...<br />
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Waiting for luggage...<br />
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Lamenting over lost luggage...<br />
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Wondering why I am shooting photos of him as he talks to the airline authorities about his lamentable lost luggage...<br />
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Waiting while the lamentable lost luggage situation is resolved...<br />
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Twin B finally got tired of pulling up his pants and just gave up...<br />
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At the 20-year-old boy's favorite restaurant in the border town where he grew up...<br />
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The welcome-home banner purchased and strung up by my sister-in-law and a friend, a fellow-missionary mom, whose son returned four days after ours, which sign was a wonderful surprise to us...<br />
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It's amazing having a return-missionary son home. We sent him off at 18 years of age. We received letters from him each week and Skyped with him on Mother's Day and Christmas, but to hug him and speak with him face-to-face was indescribable. It felt like having a newborn. He's my son, but I felt like I was getting to know a new person. Although the following traits certainly did not define our son, gone were the selfish and typical youthful habits of the teenage boy we sent off. The man who returned was one who spent his few days here inviting his baby toddler brother to watch movies with him, fixing things, making his bed without being asked, and talking to me like we are friendly, comfortable peers. He's started his new life in California now, with my sister with the Ph.D., working in her lab, and surfing and eating at trendy restaurants and working with the missionaries in Santa Cruz and he couldn't be happier. Neither could we. We are so grateful for the example he has set for his eight younger siblings and we look forward to many more missionaries in our future.<br />
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If you would like to know more about our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, or "The Mormons", please visit us <i><a href="http://mormon.org/">HERE</a></i>. Thanks for listening. :)<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-90411675301399878332012-10-17T09:39:00.002-06:002012-10-17T09:43:08.487-06:0040% Off at Flirty Aprons!Hey everybody, <a href="http://www.shareasale.com/u.cfm?d=113349&m=24717&u=395961">Flirty Aprons</a> is having another one of their amazing sales! 40% off six of their most popular aprons!! Here's one I've had my eye on for a long time and I'm getting it today.....<br />
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I'll be stocking up on more for Christmas presents. How about you? Click <i><a href="http://www.shareasale.com/u.cfm?d=113349&m=24717&u=395961">HERE</a></i> for the sale and have fun!<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-46817584041950900012012-10-10T23:11:00.003-06:002012-10-10T23:22:06.635-06:00An Unlikely Story in the Mountains of ChihuahuaHere'a an anecdote you might find interesting.<br />
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A couple of weeks ago, John, his father, my sister, and the kids and I drove up into the mountains for a hamburger fry. It was the first time in a long time I had nine of my children with me on an outing and I was really enjoying myself. We listened to my sister regale us with stories we already knew from our past, but which are always much funnier when she tells them, we watched the twins jump through the stream, and sat and relaxed as John began the meal preparations.<br />
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After starting to feel a little guilty about not helping him, I got up and started digging through the ice chest to see what I could do. It was then that I remembered I hadn't packed the smoked gouda as I'd planned to. I really can't stand eating a hamburger or veggie burger without cheese. I'd rather not eat one at all, so I said out loud, "Oh. I wish I had some cheese."<br />
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About twenty minutes later, and before my veggie burger was finished cooking, a man and a woman in an old pickup drove up through the shallow stream to where we had set up. The last time we had seen civilization was at least half an hour before, and we were completely alone in our shaded area by the stream. We waved at the driver, and he stopped and waved John over. After talking to the couple for a few seconds, John turned and yelled down-stream to where we were, a smile on his face, "Jen! He's selling cheese! How much do you want?"<br />
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You see where I'm coming from? Is this not an interesting anecdote? What are the chances of this occurring? We ended up purchasing a huge block of the ranchero cheese, and two weeks later we're still working on using it up. Only in Mexico!<br />
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Here are a few pics from the outing. I didn't take many, because I was simply enjoying the relaxing time with my family. Thanks for listening.... :)<br />
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<i>The view of the mountains where we would meet the cheese man.....</i><br />
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<i>The 12-year-old boy, climbing near ancient hieroglyphics...</i><br />
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<i>The same boy, throwing large rocks over the cliff into the stream...</i><br />
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<i>The 17-year-old girl, beginning a bike ride down the grade of the mountain on the way home...</i><br />
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Until next time!
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-64332352870965905852012-10-07T02:25:00.002-06:002012-10-10T16:07:04.258-06:00Thoughts on Fútbol AmericanoFor the first 40 years of my life, I loathed football. My mother and father loved it, and would spend Saturdays, Sundays and Monday nights engrossed in college and pro games. My mother would jump up and down and scream when their team, The Cowboys, did something awesome, and so would my dad, until he became too obese to get up quickly. Then he would just shout "ATTABOYS!!!" without the jumping.<br />
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In the farmhouse where I spent most of my formative years, our TV room was right next to our den, where the piano was. Maybe I hated football so much because when I would try to practice the piano, it would inevitably be during a game, and my father would often yell, not knowing exactly which of his three girls were practicing, "Shut the he-e-e-e-e-ll u-u-u-u-u-p! We're trying to watch the game!" I would angrily storm out of the room, thinking how ridiculous it was that I had to put my piano progression on hold just so he could watch a stupid football game. My mother highly disagreed with how he dealt with our piano practicing, as she faithfully drove us to our piano lesson each Wednesday even though our teacher lived 30 minutes away, but no amount of talking to would ever change my father. That fact, was, in fact, one of the most congruent lessons he ever taught us verbally, and through example; that we should never try to change a man, because it doesn't work.<br />
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My father always told me that I didn't like football because I didn't understand it. How could I not understand it? He had been explaining to me since I could understand words, in the hopes, I'm sure, that we would all be one happy, football-watching family. I later came to realize that part of what he said was true. Although I understood the rules, I would only realize when I was 20 years old that I was near-sighted, and could never see the ball on the small screen my father had. Thus, I never knew what was going on, just that it was something good when my parents started screaming.<br />
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As a note, perhaps my previous remarks sound disparaging of my father, but please know that although we had a troubled relationship as I was going through my teens, he became one of my favorite people in the world as I grew up and started raising a family of my own. I still considered him certifiable until he died, but I always loved him and still miss him terribly. You can read more about him <i><a href="http://rtheyallyours.blogspot.mx/search/label/to%20lose%20a%20father">HERE</a></i>.<br />
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Anyways, eventually my own sons started growing up. Football wasn't really a part of their lives, as neither of my husbands were huge fans, but things changed once John and I decided to move to Mexico. In this tiny Mormon/American farming community, high school football is everything, and I knew my oldest son would benefit in many ways by being on the team. Plus, I knew the coach personally, a cousin of mine, and that his number one goal was to help prepare these high school boys for the two-year-missions they would serve The Lord directly out of high school, should they accept that call. I felt strongly that the key to getting my son on his mission, as there were many influences pulling him away from this path, was for him to be on Coach Kortny's team.<br />
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As we waited for our the construction on our home to be completed, we spent two years on the border town where I was raised, where the then 14-year-old boy (who is now the 20-year-old boy) started high school after nine years of home school. I suggested to him that he should try out for the football team because then, when we moved to Mexico, he would already have a year of experience and feel much more comfortable on Coach Kortny's team. He replied that he really wasn't interested in playing football. I was devastated. I knew that it would be very difficult to make a high school freshman play if he didn't want to, so I had no idea what to do. So I just prayed... a lot.<br />
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During registration, as we were walking the campus finding all of his classes, we ran into one of his new teachers. As we started talking, he announced that he was the football coach and that my son looked like he could play. I believe the 14-year-old boy was quite flattered. When I had a moment, I pulled the coach aside and told him how important it was for me that my son be encouraged to try out, and he said he would work on him.<br />
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That night, the 14-year-old boy came home and said that his new coach's name was Charlie Brown, that he was really cool and that he was a Mormon. I immediately got a huge lump in my throat and couldn't speak for a long time. I just nodded and smiled and acted like it was no big deal that now he had decided to be on the football team and that my weeks of prayers had been answered.<br />
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So he joined the team, and played and seemed to enjoy it, but when we moved down to Mexico, he again expressed disinterest in joining the team. I knew it would be even more difficult to convince a high school sophomore to join the team than I thought it was to convince a freshman, so this time I tried reasoning and soft-speaking, and eventually, I said, "Well, it's up to you, Son." That year, some how, some way, the Lord answered my prayers again, and he joined the Lobos football team.<br />
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(<i>Shown here during his junior year, number 78, photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Shauna-J-Nielsen-Photography/170235206329422?fref=ts">Shauna Nielsen</a></i>)<br />
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He stayed on the team until he graduated. The practices were grueling, and many times he talked about not doing it again the next year, saying they hardly ever won anyways, but for some reason, without any more encouragement from me, he kept with it. We went to all of his home games, and many of his out of town games. I still hated watching football, I think even more so then than ever before, because I don't think I ever saw any of the plays my son made. We were wrestling his eight younger siblings on dangerous bleachers, in blazing or frigid temperatures, the misery culminating during the year our twins started running about uncontrollably and we had an infant in tow.<br />
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But it was all worth it when my son sent a letter home from his mission a few months after he left. I've tried to find it among the scores that he sent, so I could quote it word for word, but I haven't been able to. In it, he stated that Coach was a huge motivating factor in his decision to go on a mission, and if it wasn't for him, he might not be there... and for us to let coach know that he felt that way. This letter brought many tears of joy to my eyes, and since Coach had already requested to be placed on my son's mailing list, and was receiving his letters each week, I knew this one would have very special meaning.<br />
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On to the next son, the 16-year-old boy. After watching his brother play for many years, there was no stopping him. He wanted to be on the team, no question about it. Before his first game, he asked if I would take pictures of him. I said sure. I remembered how much my oldest son enjoyed the photos his best friend's mom took of the team, and since she didn't have anyone playing with the 16-year-old boy that year, the job would be left to someone else.<br />
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So I stood on the sidelines and did the best I could. I'd never done sports photography, only stuff for my blog, but when I looked at the pictures, I realized that it was probably more fun than any other type of photography. I never knew what I would find as a went through hundreds of pictures of fast-moving action. Editing and posting them to facebook was even more fun, because the kids, parents and coaches gave such great feedback on the photos and expressed so much appreciation. So, eventually, I became the unofficial team photographer.<br />
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I now look so forward to each game! Not only do I understand the game, which I always have, I can see the ball! And not only can I see the ball, I always have to know where it is so I can get the best shot. And not only do I have to know where it is, it is <i>possible </i>for me to know where it is because my dearest, finest, most sacrificing husband is always in the bleachers taking care of the four rowdy little boys alone. I am so grateful to him every week as we arrive to the field and start to get all the kids set up and he says, "Go take your pictures, Jen. I've got the kids."<br />
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And what has the 16-year-old boy learned? Since he started playing two years ago, I have seen a vast difference in him. He is more responsible, more goal-oriented, more driven and more confident. We don't have Coach Kortny anymore, but Coach Brandon (another cousin of mine) is instilling valuable lessons in his players that will carry them through their adult years. Among some of the natural schooling is the refining lesson of failure, such as when there were eleven seconds left in the game, and the 16-year-old boy was told to run into the end-zone for the winning pass. He did, but just before the ball hit his hands, an opposing player jumped out of seemingly nowhere and snatched an interception. I think he blamed himself for losing the game.<br />
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(<i>The 16-year-old boy, number 84, with the protective and compassionate arm of one of his best friends around him, only minutes after the interception. He openly cried as he walked off the field, although all of his coaches tried to comfort him.</i>)<br />
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And there was the time when he missed a block and an ill-advised player for the opposing team apparently purposely drove his helmet into the quarterback's knee, causing him to later undergo surgery....<br />
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He still stands on the sideline leaning on a cane, but he's improving every day. The 16-year-old boy blamed himself for this, but I explained to him that sometimes things like that happen in games such as this. It's a dangerous sport and you're not always going to be able to make the play you hope for. I hope he has forgiven himself.<br />
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Ah, but then there are the joys of winning. The 16-year-old boy comes home elated each week they win, which has been five of the seven games they've played. And then there was his first interception, which came last week.....<br />
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I can't get over his happy faces....<br />
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Next in line is the 12-year-old boy. He's currently one of the water boys, and he spends more time on the field than the players do, carrying large plastic boxes and doing other things that take a lot of time.....<br />
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Judging by his game face, he's going to make an awesome addition.<br />
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So yes, the practice hours are long, leaving little time for anything else, the trips are expensive, and the injuries many of the players sustain are frightening, but to me, Fútbol Americano is all worth it. A huge thanks to all of the coaches and others who devote so much volunteer time to these young men. You are doing great things. Love you, Cousins!<br />
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Thanks for listening. :)<br />
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Mom2my10 @ 11th Heavenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14813012011182498512noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3421475838864238344.post-87761314968982247112012-09-26T21:08:00.001-06:002012-09-26T21:08:16.960-06:00Wordless Wednesday: I can never get enough of the twins....<div style="text-align: center;">
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