<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MGRHw5fSp7ImA9WhRUE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569</id><updated>2012-01-23T17:43:45.225-08:00</updated><title>The Stump family...a window into our world</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>173</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/TheStumpFamily" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="thestumpfamily" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04ASXk_eip7ImA9WhRVF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-6326326568154368274</id><published>2012-01-16T05:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T05:19:08.742-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-16T05:19:08.742-08:00</app:edited><title>Summer 2011 part 2</title><content type="html">Some of you doubted me, I know it. I told you it wouldn't take me 6 months to give you Summer 2011 part two. It's only been 5 1/2 months, HA! So there. I do have a few more things to update you on besides summer. Like fall and most of winter. But better late than never, right? Where were we? Oh yes, August: &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh Geez, August, sorry folks: &lt;br /&gt;
#1. "Take me out to the ball game!" What a PERFECT day we had up in Seattle at&amp;nbsp;a Mariners game! Hot dogs, garlic fries, sunshine, happy children. Hmm, the order of my list might imply that I valued the food and sunshine more than the children...not the case, I can assure you. But seriously, have you had those garlic fries?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
#2. Jake turned 7 and now I have to physically restrain myself from squeezing him to death when I think about him growing up so quickly. He is funny, he is smart, and 9 times out of 10 he passionately wants to do the right thing. He's independent but still loves to sit next to me and link his arm in mine. Oh sweet boy, never stop cuddling with your mother! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For&amp;nbsp;his birthday party we went to Blue Lake Park and barbecued and played in the lake and in the Kids' Splash Zone. It was a great day, filled with great food and great people celebrating with us. A quick side note: Jake got the movie Newsies for his birthday and for the next few weeks went around belting out the song, "Carrying the Banner." Pretty stinking hilarious to listen to a 7-year-old sing at the top of his lungs in a bad New York accent, "That's my cigah/You'll steal anotha/Hey bumma's we got woik tah do/Since when did you become me muddah/Aw stop yah bawlin'/Hey...who ast you?" (How many of you are humming to yourself right now? Only me?)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
#3. We packed up again and headed to the Oregon Coast to spend time with Dan's extended family. We'd been looking forward to this yearly trip to SeaKrest for such a long time; it's always a blast. Unfortunately the 5 day vacation was cut short when Jake woke up puking at midnight our second night in. All 4 of us were in one room with bunk beds and he sat up on the top bunk and announced he was about to blow. I&amp;nbsp;went from a dead sleep to a sheer panic when I realized he was about to barf off the side of his bed and directly onto me and my blanket&amp;nbsp;below. He&amp;nbsp;barely missed my head as I sprung out of bed&amp;nbsp;and grabbed the first thing I could find in the pitch darkness for him to finish barfing on...a pair of Dan's pants. Not ideal. It took me quite a while to tidy up the nursery after that episode, but I placed a&amp;nbsp;sponge-bathed Jake and a designated barf&amp;nbsp;bowl in bed next to me (after wiping off the vomit on my sheet and covering&amp;nbsp;the wet spot&amp;nbsp;with a towel.) Needless to say I didn't get a lot of shut-eye after that. As soon as the sun rose I knew we had to pack it up so we didn't spread the love around to the rest of the family.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The boys were devastated that we had to leave all the cousins and the fun. I quarantined Jake in the bedroom&amp;nbsp;as we were packing up and brought him some dry cereal to get something in his empty stomach. A few minutes later he&amp;nbsp;looked up&amp;nbsp;in all his&amp;nbsp;pathetic-ness&amp;nbsp;in&amp;nbsp;and said in a quiet&amp;nbsp;sweet voice, "Mom I want a little more Cinnamon Toast Crunch." Then Ty speaks up, belting out angrily, "I want a little more &lt;em&gt;stay here&lt;/em&gt;." And that's my second born, folks. Humor stemming from a need for some serious anger management.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Another great quote from The&amp;nbsp;Tragedy That Was Our Vacation happened on the drive home. Jake was sitting in the back seat&amp;nbsp;sipping on&amp;nbsp;some orange Powerade. Then&amp;nbsp;he suddenly stops mid gulp and says, "OH!" and starts frantically screwing the lid on. "What is it?" I ask, frantically looking for something other than Dan's pants to stop Spew Fest #2. "That sign..." he said, "I can't drink in here. The sign&amp;nbsp;said 'please don't drink and drive.'"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As long as&amp;nbsp;we're talking about funny quotes I believe I might have a few from the last 5 1/2 months that will amuse you. Or at least will amuse&amp;nbsp;Jake and Ty&amp;nbsp;as they look back on this blog 10 years from now. Cause heaven knows they're not going to be amused by their non-existent baby books. Sorry guys. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*Ty burped loudly and I waited, then said, "What do you say?" He responded, "Burp." I gave him a stern look and he assured me, "burp means excuse me...in Spanish."\&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*Ty was being really whiny and Dan asked him, "Are you a big kid or are you a little kid, cause you sound like a little kid." Ty smiled and said, "I'm not a little kid, you're a little kid. You're a one-year-old...no you're...you're a not-even-born-year-old."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;These ones I'm stealing from facebook (is it called stealing if you take it from yourself? Hm.)&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="messageBody" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;*Ty picked out a pair of x-small yoga pants for me today while shopping at Old Navy. I said, "Oh no, honey, those are for super skinny mommies," to which he replied, "but you're a skinny mommy." I now have a favorite child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*The boys were fighting in the other room and I went in to referee. Me: "What is going on?" Jake, in a very whiny voice: "I'm just trying to rule the galaxy and Ty's not letting me."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="messageBody" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;*I sprung for the "Deluxe" Kraft mac and cheese at Winco the other day. Today for lunch I started to boil a pot of water and Ty yelled, "YES!! Are you making the mac-'n'-splendid-cheese?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="messageBody" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;*We were&amp;nbsp;house sitting for my parents and Jake was looking the display of my senior pictures. "Mom, I think I would love you more if you looked like that (he pointed at 17-year-old me) instead of looking...like this." And then pointed directly at my current makeup-less face. Wow, thanks honey.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="messageBody" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;*Ty: "Hey Jake, you know one thing we will never EVER do?" Jake: "Play with Barbie toys?" Ty: "Well, yeah that too, but..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="messageBody" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Because I realize that I must be losing readers with each long-winded sentence, I'll cut it here. We'll continue September-January in the next installment. Which is actually WRITTEN already. I just have to edit it. Which shouldn't take me more than 5 1/2 months, I promise :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-6326326568154368274?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/6326326568154368274/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=6326326568154368274&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/6326326568154368274?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/6326326568154368274?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2012/01/summer-2011-part-2.html" title="Summer 2011 part 2" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcBR3cycCp7ImA9WhdQGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-5951319990986596690</id><published>2011-08-20T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T20:07:36.998-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-20T20:07:36.998-07:00</app:edited><title>Summer 2011</title><content type="html">A warm aloha to my blogging friends! It's that time again. The twice yearly&amp;nbsp;update. Let's see, I need to cover most of June, all of July and most of August in &lt;em&gt;one&lt;/em&gt; post.&amp;nbsp;Simple, really. Easy as pie. A no brainer. Piece of cake.&amp;nbsp;A slam dunk. Easy peesy mac'n'cheesy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Trying to recount 3 months worth of&amp;nbsp;life&amp;nbsp;will be easy? Heck yes. This from the girl who takes 30 paragraphs for&amp;nbsp;one single story on one single day. But seriously now. How could writing about this summer NOT be easy? I mean, this post started out with the words "warm" and "aloha." So without further ado (or&amp;nbsp;cliches), I'm proud to give you: &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Summer 2011&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;June:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
#1: Ty graduated from preschool and Jake graduated from Kindergarten. This means that I'll have graduated to a mother of 2 kids in school EVERY day come September. Are they really that old? Am &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; really that old? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Which brings me to:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
#2: I turned 30.&amp;nbsp;And I liked it.&lt;br /&gt;
#3: I&amp;nbsp;had a grand birthday party with my fantastic husband and my fabulous friends.&lt;br /&gt;
#4: We continued our "Biggest Loser" competition with some friends that we started in February, and continued to see pounds come off because the dream of&amp;nbsp;delicious empty carbs was not as big as the dream of&amp;nbsp;not feeling mortified in swimsuits for our quickly approaching anniversary trip to Hawaii. &lt;br /&gt;
#5: Dan and I (mostly Dan) planned, and day-dreamed of, every waking moment we'd spend in Maui starting on the 4th of July.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Which brings&amp;nbsp;me to:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;July:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
#1. I finished packing myself for Hawaii, the kids for 5 nights with G&amp;amp;G Stump and 5 with G&amp;amp;G Alcorn, and Felix for Doggy Heaven on Earth (AKA the&amp;nbsp;Alcorn house...where my mom actually refers to Feel as her "granddog" and has Felix address her dalmatian as&amp;nbsp;"Uncle&amp;nbsp;Moses.")&lt;br /&gt;
#2. I stepped on the scale and mentally flogged myself for being 1 pound over my goal weight I'd set in January, and then I realized I had lost 29lbs. Not the 30 I was hoping for, but 29 pounds felt pretty gosh darn great!&lt;br /&gt;
#3. After giving Alaska airlines the deed to our house in order to check our luggage, we boarded the plane and I started the first of&amp;nbsp;9 books I read on the trip. Yep, nine. I'm pretty literate. And yep, I bought a Kindle before we left in order to save&amp;nbsp;some of our retirement money that&amp;nbsp;we'd have spent&amp;nbsp;on checking the extra suitcase full of books. Literate and frugal. I'm quite the catch.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Which&amp;nbsp;brings me to:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
#4. My catch. The one I caught 10 years ago. The one that after&amp;nbsp;10 years of marriage&amp;nbsp;I love even more than on our wedding day. Holy smokes did we have a great anniversary trip!&amp;nbsp;We laughed and reminisced through the longest&amp;nbsp;uninterrupted conversations we've had in 7 years (love you Jake and Ty), and then we had hours of comfortable uninterrupted silence. We had adventures like a helicopter tour and parasailing and almost dying on our boat ride back from snorkeling Molokini and&amp;nbsp;spending a day circling&amp;nbsp;and snorkeling Lana'i. And oh yes, we had food. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Which&amp;nbsp;brings me to:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
#5: Quite possibly the best meal I've ever eaten. In the most amazing location I've ever eaten at. Our victory dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse seated right by the ocean as the sun set. It was there that our friends Paul and Natalie (who were also celebrating their 10th) officially crowned us "Biggest Losers" as we inhaled our butter-drenched steaks and mac'n'cheese with caramelized onions and our fried potatoes...If there was a "Biggest Gainer" competition after eating&amp;nbsp;just&amp;nbsp;one meal, let's just say we would have owned that crown as well. &lt;br /&gt;
#6: Our completely wonderful relaxing and renewing vacation was the perfect amount of time away. The last night we were there, falling asleep to the sounds of the ocean, we looked at each other and agreed it was time to reenter reality. I absolutely &lt;em&gt;love &lt;/em&gt;regaining the perspective that when it comes right down to it, I wouldn't truly&amp;nbsp;want to live any other place but home or live any other life&amp;nbsp;than mine, with any other people than&amp;nbsp;the friends and&amp;nbsp;family&amp;nbsp;God has blessed me with. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Which brings me to:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; (am I not just nailing these segues by the way?)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;August:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
#1 Jake's birthday. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ah, shoot. I'm actually thinking I should break this up a bit. I'm getting exhausted just thinking about rereading this to edit my mistakes. Not that I ever make a mistake...okay, spell check is my BFF. I've already&amp;nbsp;written half of August, so you won't need&amp;nbsp;to wait another 5 months for me to finish it.&amp;nbsp;At least I'm pretty sure I'll finish it soon. O ye of little faith! Return soon for Jake's birthday, the 2 day vacay that was supposed to be a 5 day vacay, and some great one liners from Jake and Ty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So until then, I'll leave you with these. Just a taste of our amazing vacation:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9gCxWnAzYNc/TlBFhGq3nEI/AAAAAAAABzI/6CmS0eYQK0Q/s1600/Maui2011+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="228" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9gCxWnAzYNc/TlBFhGq3nEI/AAAAAAAABzI/6CmS0eYQK0Q/s320/Maui2011+collage.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--kpq161UTno/TlBFfQiheuI/AAAAAAAABzE/iEkqMmIGvAY/s1600/Maui2011+collage2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="256" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--kpq161UTno/TlBFfQiheuI/AAAAAAAABzE/iEkqMmIGvAY/s320/Maui2011+collage2.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-5951319990986596690?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/5951319990986596690/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=5951319990986596690&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/5951319990986596690?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/5951319990986596690?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2011/08/summer-2011.html" title="Summer 2011" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9gCxWnAzYNc/TlBFhGq3nEI/AAAAAAAABzI/6CmS0eYQK0Q/s72-c/Maui2011+collage.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEAQXg9fip7ImA9WhZUE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-2906836757458589131</id><published>2011-06-06T09:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T09:44:00.666-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-06T09:44:00.666-07:00</app:edited><title>Could it be?</title><content type="html">Well helloooooo there, blog! Feeling a bit neglected lately? You know what, I'm not even going to apologize. Okay, maybe I'll apologize for breaking cardinal blogging rule #1: not blogging about Christmas. And shoot, maybe I really should say I'm sorry for not blogging on Ty's 5th birthday. But honestly...not really very sorry.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know it will come as&amp;nbsp;a bit of a surprise&amp;nbsp;to you all, er, to the both of you who still even remember that I once was a semi-regular blogger at one point in my life, BUT I'm fairly certain that I'm not going to be blogging very often anymore. I told you. Shocker. Why, you two ask? Because, my friends. Well...just because. I really don't have a great reason besides the fact that at a certain point I realized I was stressing myself out feeling like I had to record every funny/important/meaningful moment in our lives or I was destined to forget it all. I decided I really enjoy living it more than I enjoy writing about it. It's like when I realized I was missing just having a blast watching my boys' basketball games because I was so nervous I wouldn't get one of their baskets recorded on our video camera. I know it's sad, but I truly found myself thinking at certain times in the past "now how am I going to word this best when I write about it on the blog?" rather than just&amp;nbsp;appreciating the moment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are times when I have really loved writing, but I'm not super passionate about it right now. Know what I am passionate about? My family. My husband and my boys are just about the coolest things ever. I just love being with them. Life is really good for us right now, and I'm pretty gosh darn excited to keep living it without as many distractions.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
OH stop it, I'm not saying I'm quitting the blog all together, simmer down. I'll still post some memorable stories every now and then. Half the reason I'm not posting as much is because I told myself I wanted a record of my kids' childhood. Because heaven knows I'm not keeping up with any baby books. But my kids are growing up. They don't have as many crazy things happening to them (or because of them) anymore. They're kinda boring. And after experiencing the first 4 years of Ty's life, I'd like to take this moment to raise the roof for the word "boring." NO, boring is the wrong word. Really it is. They continue to crack me up on a daily basis. For example:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ty recently stated on his way to swimming lessons, "I hope Carrot is going to be there." Carrot? "Yeah, my new friend Carrot." Um Ty, I think you mean Garrett. "Oh, yeah. Garrett."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o5EF2fOIIPY/Te0DFtIAyLI/AAAAAAAABWk/_jbThQo2H-s/s1600/T+train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o5EF2fOIIPY/Te0DFtIAyLI/AAAAAAAABWk/_jbThQo2H-s/s320/T+train.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When asked what he wanted for breakfast the other day, Ty replied, "Could you make some Sherman waffles? Sherman waffles are my favorite." Sherman waffles? I have no idea what you're talking about. He described the "Sherman waffles" in great detail and I burst out laughing. German pancakes...the child meant German pancakes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Jake continues to grow like a weed on steriods. He and Ty have the same size waist but Jake's legs are approximately 9 feet longer which makes buying pants for him a little difficult. Whoever thought of the adjustable waistband for kids is a genius. Rock star brilliant. I mean I know there are people out there coming up with cures for horrific diseases, but my hat is off to the guy who made it his life's&amp;nbsp;mission to make certain my child wouldn't go pantsless. Can I get an amen?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wTjeneLSHL8/Te0B8XCpAJI/AAAAAAAABWY/gJQMhA3GVhE/s1600/JT+trains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wTjeneLSHL8/Te0B8XCpAJI/AAAAAAAABWY/gJQMhA3GVhE/s320/JT+trains.jpg" width="213" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
So anywayssss, Christmas was great. Watching the boys play basketball together on the same team&amp;nbsp;was the highlight of my winter.&amp;nbsp;Ty's Star Wars birthday was a little chaotic with almost 20 kids in my house, but he loved every light-saber-bearing-Darth-Vader-defeating-Jedi moment of it. Swimming lessons was one of the highlights of&amp;nbsp;my children's&amp;nbsp;lives. Ty graduated from preschool and Jake will graduate soon from Kindergarten which means I will have both kids in school every day next year (Ty will still have half days) and I'm a teensy bit world-rocked with what that will mean for my every day life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WjJHoqfCHds/Te0CCcDwXeI/AAAAAAAABWc/oN-gEukqM9o/s1600/JT+bball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WjJHoqfCHds/Te0CCcDwXeI/AAAAAAAABWc/oN-gEukqM9o/s320/JT+bball.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Oh there's tons more, but I've spent too much time at the computer already today and so I'll sign off. With a promise there will be more&amp;nbsp;blogging in the future. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. And for the rest of our lives...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Here's looking at you, blog readers.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F2HTORagz38/Te0CSODfmfI/AAAAAAAABWg/RUNNl9iX7TI/s1600/JT+blackwhite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F2HTORagz38/Te0CSODfmfI/AAAAAAAABWg/RUNNl9iX7TI/s320/JT+blackwhite.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-2906836757458589131?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/2906836757458589131/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=2906836757458589131&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/2906836757458589131?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/2906836757458589131?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2011/06/could-it-be.html" title="Could it be?" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o5EF2fOIIPY/Te0DFtIAyLI/AAAAAAAABWk/_jbThQo2H-s/s72-c/T+train.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MAQ3g9cCp7ImA9Wx9RGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-7344910587645503275</id><published>2010-12-19T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T21:04:02.668-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-19T21:04:02.668-08:00</app:edited><title>July in Christmas!</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;No, you didn't read it wrong. I said&amp;nbsp;"July in Christmas." I know, the phrase is supposed to be "Christmas in July," but it's not July. It's Christmas. And I'm going to talk about July. When everybody else is talking Christmas, I'm talking July, baby. Wrap your mind around that one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Down to business. And by business I mean the Happiest Place on Earth. It's Disneyland story time, folks. Only 5 months overdue. I actually wrote most of this post about 2 weeks after returning from Disneyland, but then there was Jake's birthday and then there was Dan's birthday and then there was soccer and school and Halloween. And I recall promising you this post sometime before 2011. Since it's against Blogger law to not post about Christmas and it's also against my own personal law to post a blog any earlier than 1 week after the event, I knew that I'd break my promise to tell you about our Disneyland trip before January 1...if I didn't do it tonight. There's no time like the present, right? That's my motto. Oh wait.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Just crank up the heat and put on some flip flops and sunblock and pretend I'm not the worst procrastinator you've ever known.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;July in Christmas:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;On July 11th we packed up my parents' swagger wagon (not the official Toyota Sienna, but still a wagon with some swagger to be certain) and picked up&amp;nbsp;Dan's parents&amp;nbsp;and headed south. And by the way if you haven't seen the "swagger wagon" video, you're seriously missing out and need click &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-N3F1FhW4"&gt;this link&lt;/a&gt; immediately. So...official start time was 8:24pm and Dan's goal had been set to drive through the night as the kids slept and reach Anaheim in 16 hours. I, being the encouraging wife that I am, laughed in his face when he told me that goal. Two small children with two small bladders,&amp;nbsp;and two small attention&amp;nbsp;spans that were going to be stuck in two small carseats did not equal 16 hours in my humble opinion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Who knew that after picking up Dan's sister Jane, Curtis and&amp;nbsp;little Bekah in northern CA, we were actually on pace. And then we decided to stop for lunch at In&amp;amp;Out (my mouth just started to water&amp;nbsp;as I typed those words) before crossing the Grapevine. Ah, the Grapevine. You know, that windy stretch&amp;nbsp;of I-5&amp;nbsp;in SoCal with no exits that takes you up into the&amp;nbsp;mountains, and then out into the valley.&amp;nbsp;We were pumped to pass this milestone and not stop til we&amp;nbsp;high-fived Mickey himself. And then we went around a corner. And abruptly stopped.&amp;nbsp; For the next 3 hours. Seriously,&amp;nbsp;we drove 4 miles in 3 hours. It sorta makes me exhausted all over again just thinking about it. God bless the Swagger Wagon and its DVD player. The kids did awesome. I, on the other hand, probably lost a few years off my life due to my blood pressure reaching limits it had not seen before. I'm not exactly the most patient of drivers. Although it was great to get to catch up with Jane sitting next to me in the front seat. In fact, she probably lowered my stress meter down to non-lethal levels. Here's to you, Jane. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
We found out 3 hours later as we passed a charred semi-truck what the problem had been. Well, like I said, we had been on pace to completely miss LA traffic, but of course now we were stuck right in the middle of it as we exited the Grapevine. Our 16 hour trip turned into a 22 hour trip. But long story (not even remotely) short, we made it!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TQ7VTXUbgsI/AAAAAAAABT0/0hnd10wB0Tk/s1600/mickey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TQ7VTXUbgsI/AAAAAAAABT0/0hnd10wB0Tk/s320/mickey.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Oh, Disneyland. The Happiest Place on Earth. My boys were in awe. We had 5 day hopper passes between Disneyland and California Adventure. The first ride we went on was Thunder Mountain Railroad. We assumed that Ty would be the daredevil (this in keeping with his typical fearless behavior) and that Jake might be a little more cautious. So we decided not to tell the boys how fast Thunder Mountain would be. Jake rode next to me and Ty next to Dan. Jake was whooping it up, screaming for it to go faster and grinning from ear to ear. And evidently Ty was clinging to Dan for dear life and asking him "are there any more fast parts?" after the first turn. Who'da thought? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
After that Jake was giddy about the thought of more fast rides and Ty was a little unsure about what we'd gotten into. Dumbo was his highlight because he was able to control how high and low the flying elephant went. When he's in control there's no stopping his fearlessness. When he's not...well let's just say he had a death grip on&amp;nbsp;Dan's arm during&amp;nbsp;Pirates of the&amp;nbsp;Carribean&amp;nbsp;and there was no reasoning with him after Star Tours. Dumbo and Peter Pan and the carousel were better options. He still had a complete blast.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Jake, on the other hand, insisted on getting in line for California Screamin' when we went&amp;nbsp;over to California Adventure. You had to be 48 inches to ride, and low and&amp;nbsp;behold he was exactly 48 inches. 0-60mph in&amp;nbsp;5 seconds,&amp;nbsp;upside down loop, crazy drops. And Jake couldn't get enough. He had the need...the need for speed. Wow, thanks writers of&amp;nbsp;Top Gun for coming up with that catchy phrase to cleverly end this paragraph.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TQ7W7Ft0dMI/AAAAAAAABT4/kLn8pLc0-5E/s1600/california+screamin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TQ7W7Ft0dMI/AAAAAAAABT4/kLn8pLc0-5E/s320/california+screamin.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;We had a great hotel that was super close so we were able to walk to the park each day. The only&amp;nbsp;downside to the trip was that tiny detail of it being the hottest week in the history of mankind. It was close to 750&amp;nbsp;degrees (give or take) every day we were there. The kids were champions and barely complained. But that's probably partly because I made them drink 4 times their body weight in water. Dan and I are bigger so we only drank 3 times our body weight, and probably lost approximately that much fluid through our pores as we stood in line after line.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TQ7id0ptsbI/AAAAAAAABUA/bVq9NrVIrRg/s1600/mickey+ears.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TQ7id0ptsbI/AAAAAAAABUA/bVq9NrVIrRg/s1600/mickey+ears.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;But in all honesty, looking back I don't remember the heat as much as I remember the sheer joy on my kids' faces when they met each character, or the shrieks of delight while riding their favorite rides. What awesome memories! So glad we got to share it with my incredible in-laws. Thanks Gram and Pops for making it even more special.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;The trip home was much less eventful. I don't recall at this moment if we did make Dan's goal of 16 hours but it sure didn't feel like it when we pulled into our driveway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TQ7hG5UDMEI/AAAAAAAABT8/_3nb0RBVuuo/s1600/sleeping.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TQ7hG5UDMEI/AAAAAAAABT8/_3nb0RBVuuo/s1600/sleeping.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;We felt like we could have and should have slept for days, but alas, life goes on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Aaaand, 5 months later...Disneyland blog done. Promise kept. You can turn the heat down now. I'm done with July. That's right, it's December. Put your Snuggie back on and go back to the fireplace and turn on some Christmas carols.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;See you in 2011.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-7344910587645503275?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/7344910587645503275/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=7344910587645503275&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/7344910587645503275?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/7344910587645503275?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/12/july-in-christmas.html" title="July in Christmas!" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TQ7VTXUbgsI/AAAAAAAABT0/0hnd10wB0Tk/s72-c/mickey.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4FQ3k7cSp7ImA9Wx5bFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-725404053921316554</id><published>2010-11-01T18:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T18:55:12.709-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-01T18:55:12.709-07:00</app:edited><title>Happy Halloween</title><content type="html">Oh, Halloween. What a love/hate relationship we have. The love part started, of course, when I was little.&amp;nbsp;Wearing makeup and getting buckets of candy pretty much sums&amp;nbsp;up my life's goals&amp;nbsp;as young girl. I mean seriously...when a 7-year-old sporting a homemade Mary the&amp;nbsp;mother of Jesus frock&amp;nbsp;with a baby Jesus&amp;nbsp;doll (wrapped in swaddling clothes) under one arm&amp;nbsp;gets&amp;nbsp;to slather on some red lipstick and blue eyeshadow, go to a "harvest party" and get a pillowcase full of&amp;nbsp;cinnamon bears and tootsie rolls...how could it not be love?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM9tzBl4EhI/AAAAAAAABTo/sAksZoMEzxI/s1600/pumpkins.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM9tzBl4EhI/AAAAAAAABTo/sAksZoMEzxI/s320/pumpkins.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;The hate came when I realized that&amp;nbsp;I was&amp;nbsp;no longer young enough to pull out one of&amp;nbsp;my mom's old&amp;nbsp;prom dresses&amp;nbsp;again and be willing to walk around the neighborhood in the rain.&amp;nbsp;I guess driving myself&amp;nbsp;around the neighborhood would have been an option. But I was also&amp;nbsp;not&amp;nbsp;young enough to appreciate smarties and&amp;nbsp;sweet tarts&amp;nbsp;anymore.&amp;nbsp;Seriously folks, is the chocolate that much more expensive? Yes, (the adult&amp;nbsp;in me&amp;nbsp;has to interject at this point) it is that much more expensive. But oh so worth it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;The love came back when I had tiny kids&amp;nbsp;and got to&amp;nbsp;dress them up in&amp;nbsp;a-stinking-dorable&amp;nbsp;little costumes and walk them around town nodding at the exclamations of just how cute they were. It also didn't hurt that I got to eat all their candy because they couldn't chew on a Cheerio yet without risk of imminent death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
And that&amp;nbsp;hate&amp;nbsp;part came in again when, for really the first time, the kids wouldn't let me talk them into&amp;nbsp;(or out of) certain costumes. Of&amp;nbsp;course&amp;nbsp;I drew the line at a certain point, like no devil-children or&amp;nbsp;Scream masks. Thankfully Jake picked out a Darth Vader mask&amp;nbsp;at Goodwill that I was able to work with and thanks to my seamstress mother-in-law and her cape making abilities, he actually turned out to have one of the best costumes yet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM72vLQs5jI/AAAAAAAABTY/pWMNESkwih4/s1600/darth+vader.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM72vLQs5jI/AAAAAAAABTY/pWMNESkwih4/s320/darth+vader.jpg" width="256" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Oh, and then there's Ty. He changed his mind about every 2.3 seconds and I ended up insisting he wear the Ninja costume I bought for him, again&amp;nbsp;at Goodwill.&amp;nbsp;I'm pretty passionate about second hand Halloween costumes, especially for boys who will inevitably rip them to pieces minutes after consuming ungodly amounts of Halloween candy. I was fully happy with the Ninja costume. Wow was he awesome in his full get-up.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM7204YZRyI/AAAAAAAABTg/xjICpHwj6UE/s1600/ty+ninja.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM7204YZRyI/AAAAAAAABTg/xjICpHwj6UE/s320/ty+ninja.jpg" width="256" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Except for the fact that after he got in his full get-up, he decided it wasn't to be. The knight's helmet and breastplate we'd gotten at the dollar store 8 months ago was just too much to ignore.&amp;nbsp;Except he didn't have an outfit to go underneath it. He became so passionate about the knight idea that I was certain he'd agree when I told him he'd have to just wear underwear beneath it because we didn't have time to go get another outfit. So...long story long, he decided to be a ninja knight. That child. At least I'm not worried about him ever giving in to peer pressure. When he's made up his mind, there will be no stopping him thank you very much.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM9qSQixRNI/AAAAAAAABTk/BE9ajvoBAsQ/s1600/ty+knight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM9qSQixRNI/AAAAAAAABTk/BE9ajvoBAsQ/s320/ty+knight.jpg" width="256" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We went to downtown Gresham, as is our tradition, and trick-or-treated with the&amp;nbsp;six billion other children, and even got to meet up with the cousins. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM712eKbE1I/AAAAAAAABTQ/GJ6EShOsFkU/s1600/darth+and+knight.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="236" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM712eKbE1I/AAAAAAAABTQ/GJ6EShOsFkU/s320/darth+and+knight.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Another tradition we have is not getting a good picture of the 4 of them together. Or even one where they're all even remotely looking at the camera.﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM714YBG6hI/AAAAAAAABTU/dLoF8150WAE/s1600/cousins.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="248" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM714YBG6hI/AAAAAAAABTU/dLoF8150WAE/s320/cousins.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We also tricked and treated around our neighborhood and had&amp;nbsp;a few "brave" moments at scary houses, and filled those pumpkin baskets to the brim with candy. Love/hate that candy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;That about wraps it up. No rambling paragraphs from me tonight. Jake's been asking me to play the game&amp;nbsp;Aggravation with him﻿ and I told him I'd be done 15 minutes ago. So if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with a 6-year-old Darth Vader and some marbles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-725404053921316554?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/725404053921316554/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=725404053921316554&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/725404053921316554?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/725404053921316554?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/11/happy-halloween.html" title="Happy Halloween" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TM9tzBl4EhI/AAAAAAAABTo/sAksZoMEzxI/s72-c/pumpkins.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUCR388fyp7ImA9Wx5UE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-3340884902848478216</id><published>2010-10-17T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T23:44:26.177-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-17T23:44:26.177-07:00</app:edited><title>These are the alliterations of our lives...</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Goodbye&amp;nbsp;summer and sunshine. Hello school and soccer! Goodbye trips and time. Hello teachers and teammates! Goodbye California and chillaxin' (I know I'm not cool enough to use that word, but I'm trying to alliterate here.)&amp;nbsp;Hello cold and classrooms! Goodbye&amp;nbsp;organized chaos and&amp;nbsp;once-a-month-blogging. Hello order and o...o...ONLY-going-to-ignore blogger-every-once in-a-while! Dang,&amp;nbsp;alliteration is harder than I thought.&amp;nbsp;Shoulda left the O's alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Okee dokee. So just a few things have happened since&amp;nbsp;Dan turned 30 on September 1. The&amp;nbsp;most monumental and shockingly absent on the blog (til now!) was the fact that Jake had his first&amp;nbsp;day of&amp;nbsp;kindergarten and Ty had his first day of school EVER.&amp;nbsp;They're both loving school, and I'm loving the fact that on Thursday and Friday mornings from 8:25-10:55 I'm&amp;nbsp;childless. Well,&amp;nbsp;I guess Jake and Ty&amp;nbsp;are still my children, I just don't have to watch them like&amp;nbsp;a hawk&amp;nbsp;in the grocery store&amp;nbsp;so they don't stealthfully slip 300 fruit rollups in the cracks of the cart, or throw in 9 packages of Danimals Crush Cups that inevitably&amp;nbsp;end up directly on top of the fluffy bread.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;Here's some first day of&amp;nbsp;school pictures:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvCpqf5UGI/AAAAAAAABSg/JPwV_8o-byA/s1600/ty+preschool2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvCpqf5UGI/AAAAAAAABSg/JPwV_8o-byA/s320/ty+preschool2.jpg" width="249" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvCwQkWHqI/AAAAAAAABSk/RIpfEn5goyk/s1600/ty+preschool1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvCwQkWHqI/AAAAAAAABSk/RIpfEn5goyk/s320/ty+preschool1.jpg" width="178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvrm086gbI/AAAAAAAABS8/Thhb7YIW9uQ/s1600/jake+backpack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvrm086gbI/AAAAAAAABS8/Thhb7YIW9uQ/s320/jake+backpack.jpg" width="220" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And I'll give a shout out&amp;nbsp;to my friend Faith who&amp;nbsp;was a better mom than I and actually&amp;nbsp;brought her camera to the first day of kindergarten. Faith's daughter Peyton is in Jake's class. And will hopefully go on at least one date&amp;nbsp;with him someday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvEaxen7OI/AAAAAAAABSo/7EanpcyvE_4/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ex="true" height="229" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvEaxen7OI/AAAAAAAABSo/7EanpcyvE_4/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvEb3roSoI/AAAAAAAABSs/XbRgQY86qPo/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvEb3roSoI/AAAAAAAABSs/XbRgQY86qPo/s320/007.JPG" width="213" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Speaking of children dating, I have a&amp;nbsp;funny story. Actually it's not at all funny to me now, but will hopefully someday be funny. Maybe.&amp;nbsp;The&amp;nbsp;first week of school I asked Jake (aka Most Social Kid of All Time) if he had made&amp;nbsp;any friends. "Yep." Shocker. What are their names?&amp;nbsp;"Well, there's Emma, she sits by me." Ooooh. Emma. Okay. So who did you play with at recess today? "Emma." Um, who&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;else&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; did you play with at&amp;nbsp;recess? "Wellllll, Emma doesn't really like me to play with other people." Oh my good&amp;nbsp;gracious. Does it really start this early? Needless to say, I was quite insistent about the fact that he needed to tell Emma to find some other friends, hopefully some GIRL friends to possess, I mean to play with.&amp;nbsp;Case closed. He's now playing&amp;nbsp;with the boys at recess and has made a great friend in our neighborhood&amp;nbsp;by riding the bus (which by the way, comes at 7:12 to get him to school by 8am). So he spends 45 minutes on the bus when it would take me approximately 45 seconds to drive him down the street to the school's front door. But he insists on riding that bus and has a grand old time every morning. His teacher is wonderful and I get to go volunteer in his class once a&amp;nbsp;month.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And Ty is loving preschool on Thursday and Friday mornings. His teacher is also wonderful, and he just skips right into that classroom. This from the kid who screamed when I tried to leave him in the nursery until he got old enough to go in the same class as Jake. My baby's&amp;nbsp;growing up. He's no longer little brother following big brother around. He's a true blue bonafide school goer who has his own friends and his own homework that he works diligently on. Such a little man, I just am so happy he's grown out of a lot of his craziness. Not that he doesn't still get into mischief now and then. I posted this on my facebook wall the other day, "&lt;span id="profile_status"&gt;&lt;span id="status_text"&gt;Ty cleaned the bathtub for me last night. Don't be too impressed. "Mom, I used Jake's Spiderman washcloth to clean the bathtub. I just put it in the toilet to get it wet..." Oh man, that kid. How boring would my life be without him?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Alright moving on to soccer. It's so awesome that both our boys can be on the same team this year! Jake has improved approximately 900% since last year, and is one of the best on the team, and Ty is one of the youngest kids out there, but has got himself some serious skills as well. I'll give most of the&amp;nbsp;credit to Jurgi who played more hours of soccer with my boys when he lived here than he probably slept. We miss you, Jurgi! We think of you every time Jake scores a goal. Which is quite often, as you'll see (oh, and we got a new digital video recorder that is Dan's favorite toy at the moment, so kudos to him for creating this masterpiece): **OKAY, I've tried for 2 hours now to get this video to upload and can't do it. Stay tuned, I'll figure it out. No, Dan will figure it out and post it. Until now, just enjoy the pictures, courtesy of Auntie Jen who braved the rain last Saturday.**&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvpQ-fjRtI/AAAAAAAABSw/8zjH_s15ZJQ/s1600/44894_1658377584724_1395680291_1750204_3025421_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvpQ-fjRtI/AAAAAAAABSw/8zjH_s15ZJQ/s320/44894_1658377584724_1395680291_1750204_3025421_n.jpg" width="238" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvpWQoJM1I/AAAAAAAABS4/sjXBiq1gZeE/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvpWQoJM1I/AAAAAAAABS4/sjXBiq1gZeE/s320/untitled.bmp" width="241" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvpR-HBzZI/AAAAAAAABS0/FdZQprUB73A/s1600/66891_1658376624700_1395680291_1750202_4277679_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvpR-HBzZI/AAAAAAAABS0/FdZQprUB73A/s320/66891_1658376624700_1395680291_1750202_4277679_n.jpg" width="238" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Okay, enough of the updating? Thank you and goodnight. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Yep, I'm still not forgetting the fact that I have yet to post about our Disneyland trip. You've all&amp;nbsp;probably forgotten, but that was really my plan. Now I can creep it up on you and you'll be shocked and amazed.&amp;nbsp;So don't be checking every day. Just chillax.&amp;nbsp;Spontaneous...that's the way I roll. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-3340884902848478216?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/3340884902848478216/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=3340884902848478216&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3340884902848478216?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3340884902848478216?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/10/these-are-alliterations-of-our-lives.html" title="These are the alliterations of our lives..." /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TLvCpqf5UGI/AAAAAAAABSg/JPwV_8o-byA/s72-c/ty+preschool2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkANRH49fSp7ImA9Wx5QE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-8889646065079332984</id><published>2010-09-01T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T09:33:15.065-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-01T09:33:15.065-07:00</app:edited><title>The big 3-0</title><content type="html">30? Didn't we just discuss how 6 seemed old?&amp;nbsp;Oh yes, that was a month ago, but still...those were the words I left you with, no?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thirty years old. Let me just clarify that it's not me&amp;nbsp;who's turning 30 today. No siree. My cradle was the one that was robbed...we'll discuss my thirtieth birthday in the muuuuch distant future.&amp;nbsp;Today my household is celebrating the birth of our patriarch. Daniel John. Dan. Dad. Daddy-o. Dude. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's true. As of today I'm married to a 30-year-old. And it's not even&amp;nbsp;freaking me out. You know why? Because I made a list.&amp;nbsp;Yep. A list of all the&amp;nbsp;things about Dan that keep him young at heart.&amp;nbsp;Yes I realize that I'm talking like he's turning&amp;nbsp;80. I really don't think 30 is old, but&amp;nbsp;the list is funnier if&amp;nbsp;you&amp;nbsp;picture him on the verge of needing a cane and denture cream.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He's a fine wine, my husband...better with age...get it?&amp;nbsp;Except for the fact that he hates wine.&amp;nbsp;Cheese maybe? Doesn't some cheese taste better after it ages?&amp;nbsp;Ahh,&amp;nbsp;I've got it. How about aged&amp;nbsp;beef? Dan will appreciate that one. Except eventually&amp;nbsp;even the greatest of steaks&amp;nbsp;gets rotten if you don't eat it. Oh forget it. Back to the list.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Things about Dan that make him seem young (even though he's not anymore):&lt;br /&gt;
* He teaches my boys WWF moves as they wrestle on the living room floor&lt;br /&gt;
* His favorite cereals&amp;nbsp;are Reeses Puffs and Fruity Pebbles&lt;br /&gt;
*&amp;nbsp;He just got a Seahawks jersey and has been wearing it around the house multiple days in row&lt;br /&gt;
* He gets a high pitched giggle when&amp;nbsp;someone really makes him laugh&lt;br /&gt;
* He still prays for snow days that will cancel school&lt;br /&gt;
*&amp;nbsp;He ate pizza for 3 days straight&amp;nbsp;when the boys and I were gone last weekend&lt;br /&gt;
* He tried to get me to tell him what his birthday presents are&lt;br /&gt;
*&amp;nbsp;He couldn't sleep the night before his fantasy football draft because he was so excited&lt;br /&gt;
* Speaking of the draft, he wrote a trash-talking poem to read to the guys&amp;nbsp;in his league&amp;nbsp;before&amp;nbsp;any picks were made&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
There are tons more.&amp;nbsp;But the greatest part is that&amp;nbsp;there are&amp;nbsp;also tons&amp;nbsp;of things that he does that prove he's a mature responsible adult. Like&amp;nbsp;working a good job, taking care of his family, taking out the trash,&amp;nbsp;making wise decisions, and being an all around great example to&amp;nbsp;our boys of what a godly man looks like.&amp;nbsp;It's true. He's pretty much the best combination of young and old. But he's mine and you can't have him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy birthday, dude!&amp;nbsp;I am proud to be your wife and I am so excited to grow old with you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I'm also excited&amp;nbsp;about the fact that you're the one&amp;nbsp;who will grow older&amp;nbsp;first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-8889646065079332984?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/8889646065079332984/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=8889646065079332984&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/8889646065079332984?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/8889646065079332984?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/09/big-3-0.html" title="The big 3-0" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIDRXg5fSp7ImA9Wx5SEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-6727760815143293747</id><published>2010-08-07T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T22:49:34.625-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-07T22:49:34.625-07:00</app:edited><title>Jacob Gary</title><content type="html">Unbelievable. Seriously unreal to me that I have a six-year-old. Six years ago today, well not today, but on August 3rd (I know, bad blogging mother, get over it) Jacob Gary was placed in my arms and I knew life would never be the same. Six years ago. 6? Six. Five is a milestone, six is just plain old. It's like turning 21...cool milestone. 22...old. And not only is he old, he's also ginormous. Not one ounce of fat on his body (he and Ty have the same size waist), but he is as tall and skinny as a...shoot what's tall and skinny? My 19 inch baby has turned into the six-year-old equivalent of Yao Ming. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502877007883007026" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TF4le7GH9DI/AAAAAAAABRk/c6-95Kqo-7w/s320/jake+newborn.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 259px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502891655739801042" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TF4yzinU_dI/AAAAAAAABSM/GvAfnzpE8ns/s320/jake+toystory+wii.jpg" /&gt;And I can't for the life of me find a full-body picture of Jake in all his tall glory, so that one will have to do. For those of you who haven't seen Jake in the last 24 hours, he's already grown another 4 inches. He's 6 years old and approximately 6 feet tall. Ok, obviously I'm kidding. But I swear that when I stare at him for a few minutes I can actually see him growing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alright already. Besides the fact that I can not get over his height, I also can not get over him losing teeth. He's lost his bottom front 2 teeth, and now he's got one upper tooth that is hanging on for dear life and makes him look like he's got a snaggletooth. Wonder if spellcheck knows what a snaggletooth is. Nope. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enough about Jake's physical characteristics. Except I'll just throw in real quick that he's got me terrified about how many girls are going to be calling my house giggling in a few years time. Lord help me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My happy, laid-back little baby boy has turned in to such a sweet and tough and funny young man. There's moments where my heart actually hurts I love him so much. He was getting out of the car to go to a backyard Bible club the other day, and he jumped out, started running, then abruptly stopped all by himself and said, "OH, I forgot," and came running back to the car to kiss and hug me. "Love you, Mom." Yep. Heart squeezing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's also quite a little missionary. There's been multiple times lately where he'll strike up a conversation with someone at the store and ask them if they know Jesus, or tell them about our church, and that he's learned the names of the books of the Old Testament by singing a song in his Sunday school class. We were on our way to the dollar store a few days ago and he announced from the back seat, "The dollar store is the best thing EVER. Oh, no wait, Jesus is the best thing ever, and THEN the dollar store." He prayed for Jurgi every night that he was here, and he also rarely forgets to include in his prayers, "and thank you for my brother and my mom and dad." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As sweet and tender-hearted as he is, he's definitely all boy. He got a rapid-fire Nerf gun for his birthday and he and Dan and Ty have been running around the house for days yelling and shooting and laughing like crazy. And that's when he's not outside playing basketball or making soccer goals out of 2 shoes. His favorite show on TV (besides cartoons like Handy Manny or Arthur) is Wipe-Out, which is pretty much just laughing at people who hurt themselves. All boy. And the birthday theme this year? Batman. It's been Hot Wheels (4th birthday), Transformers (5th) and Batman. No lace doilies in the decor at one of Jake's parties. Or any party I throw...but you get the point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 311px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502890007290253154" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TF4xTlqVD2I/AAAAAAAABSE/qZzmk5Uu78U/s320/jake+batman.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 264px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502890001976412210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TF4xTR3aSDI/AAAAAAAABR8/6VQp08YzkHQ/s320/cake.jpg" /&gt;Living with Jake is constant comedy. I got him some shoes a while back that were 2 sizes bigger than the ones he was wearing that I bought (too big for him) 9 months ago. I laced them up and he proceeded to go strutting around, and my heart stopped for a second. Then I said, "Dude, you look like a man." To which he quickly replied, "YOU look like a man," and we both burst into laughter. Then just tonight he was wearing a new hat that Auntie Becca gave him (Stud, with a capital S) and he had it twisted sideways. He looked in the mirror and stated, "I look like a DJ." Dan and I laughed and said, "A DJ?" And he said, "Yeah, you know those guys who go...pssshpssshpsssh" and he was moving his hand like he was spinning a record. Who needs TV with this kid around? Hysterical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here comes a Disneyland preview. I'm not forgetting. Avoiding...yes. Forgetting, no. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 312px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502888129934908914" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TF4vmT973fI/AAAAAAAABR0/pN_yXHuXPGA/s320/jake+pluto.jpg" /&gt;Jake, you are my delight. I love you more than you could ever understand, and I am so excited to watch and cheer you on as you grow into a little man. Happy birthday, baby!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-6727760815143293747?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/6727760815143293747/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=6727760815143293747&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/6727760815143293747?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/6727760815143293747?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/08/jacob-gary.html" title="Jacob Gary" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TF4le7GH9DI/AAAAAAAABRk/c6-95Kqo-7w/s72-c/jake+newborn.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYBRHwyeCp7ImA9Wx5SEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-3545971220039509689</id><published>2010-08-02T21:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T19:05:55.290-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-07T19:05:55.290-07:00</app:edited><title>Summer...part 1 of 36</title><content type="html">And now the moment you've all been waiting for...the summer update. Now I know what you're thinking. How could she possibly write a blog explaining the 4+ weeks of silence we've just experienced, when it typically takes us 4+ weeks to finish reading even one of her ridiculously long stories? Or, sentences, in this case. What would that blog post even look like? Well, it could look something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Token apology for not updating readers. Assurance the author will not ever again wait so long between posts. Confusion about where to begin the update. An aha! moment and clever segue into the first of many stories. Picture. Attempt at brief explanation under picture. Repeat until author runs out of time and or energy. Concluding remarks. Second promise of timely next post. Witty final sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet. I guess I'm done. No? Allllright. But seriously, you may want to grab a drink, put a movie or 2 on for the kids, be sure you've emptied your bladder recently, do a little stretching...cause you're gonna be sitting here for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, June 28th was the last day I updated you. Jurgi had only been with us for 3 days, but we knew that he was a perfect fit for our family. For the next 2 weeks, our days were full of activity. I couldn't help but throw another baby shower in the middle of it. Cause that's what I do. (We miss you already Matt and Sharon!) We had barbecues with friends, Jurgi and the boys shot approximately 8 million baskets and made 3 million goals with a soccer ball, and Jurgi toured downtown Portland where he became passionate about someday eating a bacon topped donut while looking at the line winding around the block at VooDoo Donuts (the bacon donut dream was realized before he left). &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501049976646729634" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TFenztWy_6I/AAAAAAAABRE/P7u8vtkalIQ/s320/Jurgi+basketball.jpg" /&gt;Jurgi inspired us to have a new appreciation for soccer while faithfully watching the World Cup even in the early morning hours, so we took him to a Portland Timbers Soccer game with the boys. We played tennis after I dusted off my racket and my old bones. I'm definitely not going to wait another 8 years to do that again. Jurgi went with us to a 4th of July barbecue with Dan's family and then witnessed Jake's near death fireworks experience. Dang, I guess I have to explain that one. Oh, here I'll just put a picture instead and attempt a brief explanation under it. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501047826737253170" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TFel2kUbyzI/AAAAAAAABQk/WNRbyLSQwvM/s320/holey+shirt.jpg" /&gt;Sparkler + wind = shirt bursting into flames and 5 year old grabbing the chunk of flaming sparkler and obtaining 2nd degree burns on his fingers. Oh and on his chest of course. Right underneath that charred hole in the shirt in case you were wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we went to Disneyland. Next post. Oh crimeny, Jake's birthday is tomorrow. Next to next post. I cannot ask you to sit through the stories of my kids' first trip to Disneyland on top of all the other things I'm jabbering on about...mainly because I'm just plain refusing to write them right now because I'm getting carpal tunnel just thinking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so when we were in Disneyland getting heatstroke (but still having an insanely good time), Jurgi got to go to the Washington Family Ranch for a week at camp. He said it was an incredible time, which makes me excited because I get to take the kids there the last weekend in August. I get to be the camp nurse. For a group of First Responders. Because I'm sure they'll need me to tell them what to do in an emergency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back from Disneyland and back to our last week with Jurgi. We went up to Mt. Hood to the Alpine Slides and the other adventures they have there. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501060308182924642" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TFexNFU-fWI/AAAAAAAABRc/WT3ixf5GjdE/s320/collage+alpine+slides.jpg" /&gt;Mountain sliding, go-cart riding, bungee trampoline-ing, putt-putt golfing. Oh yes, and then there was the bungee jumping. Jurgi got talked into strapping himself onto a bungee cord and launching himself off a 100 foot platform. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501052565088461682" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TFeqKYDZY3I/AAAAAAAABRU/9n5cwaPtBAM/s320/jurgi+bungee.jpg" /&gt;I prayed the whole time that he'd survive so his mother wouldn't have to come to the USA and kill me for letting him do it. He said it was awesome, and that he's got to do something terrifying again if he comes back next summer, so we agreed that I would go skydiving with him if he comes back. So save up your money, Jurgi! Not to pay for the skydiving. To pay me to get on that plane with you. Me and my big mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a final dinner with all the Basque students, where they cooked us a traditional Basque meal. I would definitely not lose weight over there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501049960262790162" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TFenywUj7BI/AAAAAAAABQs/u1CPHs6cy_w/s320/basque+food+email.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501051343586268034" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TFepDRmlE4I/AAAAAAAABRM/4yw-PL3ISek/s320/family+small.jpg" /&gt;The week flew by and soon it was time for Jurgi to go home. We shared our last bacon donuts, watched our last American movies together, the boys played their last games of Wii (Bowser Castle, Jurgi!!) and I packed up a tupperware of chocolate chip cookies to cram into his suitcase, gave him a photo album of his time here in the US, and we shared some hugs and said our goodbyes. Jake and Ty couldn't have loved a big brother more. Just the other day Ty said, "I wonder what Jurgi is doing right now." We miss you, Jurgi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 293px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501049973399641298" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TFenzhQoXNI/AAAAAAAABQ8/l2ogWNHZ9j8/s320/jurgi+by+jake.jpg" /&gt;And now for the witty final sentence. Yep, I know I'm skipping the concluding remarks. I like to switch things up now and then. Until next time. Yikes, that should be tomorrow, because tomorrow is Jake's 6th birthday. But I really can't write about it until he has his parties. I have to have pictures after all. That gives me a good 3 days to avoid Blogger. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll write about Disneyland sometime before 2011. That you can take to the bank. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-3545971220039509689?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/3545971220039509689/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=3545971220039509689&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3545971220039509689?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3545971220039509689?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/08/summerpart-1-of-36.html" title="Summer...part 1 of 36" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TFenztWy_6I/AAAAAAAABRE/P7u8vtkalIQ/s72-c/Jurgi+basketball.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEAMQXo8fip7ImA9Wx5TEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-7979882119514868192</id><published>2010-07-24T17:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-24T17:13:00.476-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-24T17:13:00.476-07:00</app:edited><title>Stay tuned</title><content type="html">Three weeks with Jurgi, a week at Disneyland (the boys' first time) with Dan's parents...it's a teensy bit overwhelming how much stuff I have to blog about. Jurgi leaves tomorrow, so maybe I'll have time on Monday to update you. Before we leave for Sun River with my family on Tuesday. And then for sure I'll have pix and stories from Sun River before we leave for the Oregon coast with Dan's extended family. Oh good golly I'm stressing myself out. Pictures at least are coming soon...I think. I hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-7979882119514868192?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/7979882119514868192/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=7979882119514868192&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/7979882119514868192?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/7979882119514868192?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/07/stay-tuned.html" title="Stay tuned" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUICR3szfyp7ImA9WxFUF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-7725526810228667134</id><published>2010-06-28T19:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T19:12:46.587-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-28T19:12:46.587-07:00</app:edited><title>My boys</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TClVFHFtJjI/AAAAAAAABQc/iJcP867fSaI/s1600/Jurgi+and+boys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488011167218345522" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TClVFHFtJjI/AAAAAAAABQc/iJcP867fSaI/s320/Jurgi+and+boys.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There they are, my three boys. They've been outside playing soccer and basketball every waking moment that they're not watching World Cup.  Pretty stinking cute, aren't they? And...anybody notice that Dan already has Jurgi converted to Huskies purple?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-7725526810228667134?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/7725526810228667134/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=7725526810228667134&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/7725526810228667134?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/7725526810228667134?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-boys.html" title="My boys" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TClVFHFtJjI/AAAAAAAABQc/iJcP867fSaI/s72-c/Jurgi+and+boys.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04ARXk6cCp7ImA9WxFUGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-9220124974240128142</id><published>2010-06-28T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-29T15:52:24.718-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-29T15:52:24.718-07:00</app:edited><title>Foreign family</title><content type="html">He's here! Our son-for-a-month made it to the US of A!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, I'll apologize for not keeping the blog up to date. Before &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jurgi&lt;/span&gt; (pronounced &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Yurgi&lt;/span&gt;) arrived we exchanged multiple emails with him and got to know him a little bit. Part of me wanted to just copy and paste those emails here on the blog, but if I were &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jurgi's&lt;/span&gt; mom, I probably wouldn't want a complete stranger posting details and pictures of my son's life all over the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt;! So I'll be careful about how much information I share about him so no one can steal his identity or do whatever it is that the crazies of the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; do with people's personal details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jurgi&lt;/span&gt; (if that's his real name) arrived on Friday night at a little after 9pm. Jake and Ty helped me decorate a welcome sign for him. Actually, we had to go over to my creative and artistic sisters 'crack' house (see &lt;a href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2008/10/quote-of-day.html"&gt;old blog&lt;/a&gt; for explanation if you're ready to call the cops on Karina) in order for her to draw some bubble letters. It took her 1 minute to do what would have taken me approximately 1 day to do on my own. I painted her bubble letters (with her paint) and that was my entire contribution to the sign making process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487880696510395378" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TCjeat05s_I/AAAAAAAABQU/Ecn6bAfJVQ0/s320/welcome+jurgi.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jurgi&lt;/span&gt; loved the sign, and gave us all hugs when he got off the plane, and gave me a kiss on each cheek and I felt very European. Or like I live in the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hamptons&lt;/span&gt; and say "fabulous" all the time. Whatever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got home after 10pm and we were all exhausted, but &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jurgi&lt;/span&gt; pulled out some presents for us. During our emails back and forth, I had told him all about Jake and Ty and what they liked to do. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jurgi&lt;/span&gt; told us that he loves sports and plays soccer, so I told him that Jake had played on a soccer team last fall and loved it, and that Ty loved all sports but especially basketball. Well, sweeter than sweet teenage boy brought my boys presents that absolutely could not have been more perfect. For Jake: a soccer uniform, right down to the socks, from the official Basque team (in the perfect size), and for Ty: a full sized basketball (and a shirt with cartoon sheep and Basque writing on it, also the perfect size.) So in other words, my children will now pretty much lay down their lives for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jurgi&lt;/span&gt;. He's the best surrogate big brother! Ty actually slept with the basketball that night, and Jake wore the soccer outfit the entire next day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TCjeZwSoPyI/AAAAAAAABQM/T55BuCbfgEM/s1600/Basque+soccer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 254px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487880679992082210" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TCjeZwSoPyI/AAAAAAAABQM/T55BuCbfgEM/s320/Basque+soccer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's tons more intimate details that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; stalkers would LOVE to get their hands on, but honestly, I'm tired and I'm also about to leave to get a one hour massage from Dan's cousin (a birthday present from my fabulous in-laws. I'm definitely kissing them on the cheeks next time I see them.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's it for now, but things really couldn't be better here around the Stump house. I'll get a good picture of him and the boys and post it soon. I promise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-9220124974240128142?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/9220124974240128142/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=9220124974240128142&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/9220124974240128142?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/9220124974240128142?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/06/foreign-family.html" title="Foreign family" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/TCjeat05s_I/AAAAAAAABQU/Ecn6bAfJVQ0/s72-c/welcome+jurgi.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MCRnc-fSp7ImA9WxFUGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-3416329237033944516</id><published>2010-05-28T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T08:24:27.955-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-30T08:24:27.955-07:00</app:edited><title>Summer time...</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Disclaimer--I sent the first part of this blog out as an email to some family and close friends. If you think we're close friends and you didn't get it #1 I'm sure I thought I sent it to you, or #2 I tried to send it to you and I don't have your current email address, or #3 maybe I don't like you. Regardless, here it is. I'll let you know when I'm done plagiarizing myself and I begin writing new material.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Seriously? Summer is almost here? We’ve had a few sightings of the sun here in Gresham lately, usually immediately preceded (and followed) by torrential rain. But sun or no sun, life is good here around the Stump house, and it’s about to get a whole lot better! This summer we’re anticipating lots of things, including: Dan being off work, kids frolicking in the sun, Ang sipping caramel frappucinos, Disneyland in mid-July, Alcorn family Sun River trip, Stump (Milliken) family trip to the Oregon coast, meeting our third child, a possible trip up to Seattle for a Mariners baseball game, and a lot of smokin’ good BBQ. Did I lose you for a second?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t worry, you didn’t miss any news about another pregnancy. That was just my clever intro to an amazing opportunity we have this summer! We are inviting a 17 year-old high school boy into our home for a month. He is from the Basque country (a region that sits between Spain and France on the Bay of Biscay.) His name is Jurgi and looking at his application, he’s going to fit in perfectly with our family! He will stay with us for 1 month, from June 25-July 25, and learn about American culture, practice his English, eat our food, be followed around by our kids, become fluent in fantasy football, and be loved by our family, our church, and our God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we’re writing this letter because we absolutely need your prayers. Inviting a high school boy to live in our home where he will get to see all of the good, bad, and ugly is a little intimidating. But we hope that as Jurgi becomes a part of our imperfect and ordinary lives, he might be able to see a perfect and extraordinary God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Okay, sorry to bore all of you who read this previously. Read on for all of my exciting, original never-before-seen blog thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooo...yeah. We're excited about summer. And I promise to post pictures and embarrassing stories about Jurgi just as if he were my own. Just kidding, Jurgi. If you're reading this. If not, then I'm 100% serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, what else? Jake graduates from preschool tomorrow. Whoa nelly I'm going to have a kindergartner. Yep, then pretty soon he'll graduate from high school, get married, give me lots of grandkids and have to put me in a nursing home where my dinners will consist of pureed steak and potatoes through a straw. It's right around the corner. And that's pretty much how I'm feeling about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should clarify that right now it's 12:55am and I'm writing this from the triage desk at work. Therefore if any of the "original" sentences above make any sense whatsoever, I probably don't deserve my paycheck tonight. Typically nights in the ER don't lend themselves to frivolous things like emptying your bladder or blogging. Tonight on the other hand...I actually considered praying for a major city-wide catastrophe so time will go by more quickly. But instead of wishing harm upon the citizens of Portland, I'm choosing to blog. Maybe not very well, but blogging I shall continue. It just took me 10 minutes to write and re-write that sentence. I'm getting paid for this, folks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha, just when it was about to get boring: a little amusement in my night. I have a screen at my desk that shows me various views of security cameras in our waiting room and outside the front entrance. A wildly intoxicated woman just walked by the automatic glass doors and jumped about 3 feet when they opened for her. I laughed out loud. And I'm considering asking one of our security officers how I can play the tape back so I may laugh once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, I'm done. Please don't stop believing that someday I'll write an entire rational post. Summer is coming. Sunshine is coming. Sleeeeeep is coming...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-3416329237033944516?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/3416329237033944516/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=3416329237033944516&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3416329237033944516?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3416329237033944516?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/05/summer-time.html" title="Summer time..." /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQBQnw8fyp7ImA9WxFRFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-1029805540492230920</id><published>2010-04-28T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T16:12:33.277-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-28T16:12:33.277-07:00</app:edited><title>Pictures and thoughts</title><content type="html">It is getting ridiculous how many weeks go by before I actually post some of the pictures that I take. Why must I always be compelled to write seven thousand words to explain them all? Not today, friends. I refuse to give in to my compulsions. Here's some great pictures with very brief explanations. And some with just a little briefer than usual explanations. Ok, some will be semi-brief to normal. Maybe normal to not-quite-long-winded. Dang it, somebody stop me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9iy0eyatbI/AAAAAAAABO8/JdadDXyAFO4/s1600/cars.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9iy0eyatbI/AAAAAAAABO8/JdadDXyAFO4/s320/cars.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465314762501567922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jake is still pretty passionate about cars. I should have taken a video of him touching each of these Hot Wheels individually and quoting their make and model (the year isn't usually specified on the box, which is frustrating for him.) But I guess a video of him naming 97 cars might have destroyed my attempt at brevity right from the start. How'm I doing so far? Right, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took Ty to a Blazer game for his birthday. Ha! You see, I CAN do brief!&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9iy0wpsTGI/AAAAAAAABPE/oC6aJC41U78/s1600/ty+blazer+tix.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 274px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9iy0wpsTGI/AAAAAAAABPE/oC6aJC41U78/s320/ty+blazer+tix.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465314767296810082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Ok, more pictures, more explanations. Yes I realize Ty's birthday (and therefore the Blazer game) was a month and a half ago. It's still interesting, isn't it? Oh my goodness gracious sakes alive, did he absolutely L-O-V-E being at that game. Probably one of the highlights of his life. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9iy1Sgqy6I/AAAAAAAABPM/304fxVxFxfo/s1600/blazer+dad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 309px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9iy1Sgqy6I/AAAAAAAABPM/304fxVxFxfo/s320/blazer+dad.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465314776385768354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9iy2F4JcqI/AAAAAAAABPc/7cmyC8oqoxI/s1600/blazer+game.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9iy2F4JcqI/AAAAAAAABPc/7cmyC8oqoxI/s320/blazer+game.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465314790174454434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He was a bit overwhelmed at first, and sat on my lap for most of the game. But towards the end he started screaming like crazy when the Blazers made a shot. Every home game if the Blazers score over 100 points the whole crowd gets a ticket for a free chalupa from Taco Bell. After they hit a shot to make it 101, Ty yelled out at the top of his lungs, "CHALUPA TIME!!!" Oh, great memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago Dan's sister Jane and our niece Rebekah were up here. I've said it before and I'll say it again. There is not a cuter little girl on the planet. Seriously, look at this cuteness:&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i4I1s7CjI/AAAAAAAABPk/h_QOMwnk36Y/s1600/bekah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i4I1s7CjI/AAAAAAAABPk/h_QOMwnk36Y/s320/bekah.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465320609808058930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys and I went to the zoo with Jane and Bekah, and mother-in-law Ann and other sis-in-law Becca and the kids she nannies for, Claudia and Charlie (2 of the cutest kids who are not related to me) and friend Stacy and girlies Piper and Chloe. There had to have been an easier way to say all that. BUT, I'm too tired to edit it, so there you go. Here's the kiddos minus Charlie and Chloe who were sleeping in their strollers:&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i5iqRnx9I/AAAAAAAABPs/wzTHwi_PxsY/s1600/zoo+kids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i5iqRnx9I/AAAAAAAABPs/wzTHwi_PxsY/s320/zoo+kids.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465322152928987090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Piper, Ty, Jake, Bekah, and little miss Claudia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i7EjVW0fI/AAAAAAAABP0/ApKyPIL95dU/s1600/zoo+monkey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i7EjVW0fI/AAAAAAAABP0/ApKyPIL95dU/s320/zoo+monkey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465323834692784626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ty pretending to be a monkey. At least I think/hope that's what he's doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i8VsLQ_CI/AAAAAAAABP8/UUxrNF54acU/s1600/lioness.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i8VsLQ_CI/AAAAAAAABP8/UUxrNF54acU/s320/lioness.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465325228635782178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This lioness charged us and actually jumped up with it's huge front paws on the glass. It actually made my heart skip a beat. But mostly made me wish my camera wasn't buried in my pocket at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough zoo. Actually, enough blog. For now. The sun is starting to come out, and I've got places to go, people to see...laundry to move from the washer to the dryer. I know, you're jealous. I'll leave you with one more picture of precious Bek:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i9xJKRY-I/AAAAAAAABQE/Dg-23w4K5hU/s1600/bek+in+boys+clothes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9i9xJKRY-I/AAAAAAAABQE/Dg-23w4K5hU/s320/bek+in+boys+clothes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465326799784338402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We left her alone for 1 minute and she found Ty's shorts and Jake's shoes and put them on all by herself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C'mon, who &lt;em&gt;doesn't&lt;/em&gt; want to be like those Stump boys? Speaking of those Stump boys, it is WAY too quiet in this house right now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-1029805540492230920?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/1029805540492230920/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=1029805540492230920&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/1029805540492230920?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/1029805540492230920?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/04/pictures-and-thoughts.html" title="Pictures and thoughts" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S9iy0eyatbI/AAAAAAAABO8/JdadDXyAFO4/s72-c/cars.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EFRnkyfip7ImA9WxFSEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-4428552523996178110</id><published>2010-04-13T10:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T10:26:57.796-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-13T10:26:57.796-07:00</app:edited><title>Two things</title><content type="html">I'll give you two guesses...who decided the couch was a blank canvas on which to display his artistic abilities:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S8SnuE638KI/AAAAAAAABOc/_oj4vq9UMVg/s1600/T+couch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 290px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S8SnuE638KI/AAAAAAAABOc/_oj4vq9UMVg/s320/T+couch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459673058316382370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S8SnujR4h6I/AAAAAAAABOk/ZCqg6nZDvAA/s1600/Y+couch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 286px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S8SnujR4h6I/AAAAAAAABOk/ZCqg6nZDvAA/s320/Y+couch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459673066465953698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now this muliple choice question: Is this price tag A. a typo, or B. evidence that I am the best bargain shopper in the history of the world?&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S8SpGLOXMeI/AAAAAAAABO0/n9-aSt2rN80/s1600/Ross.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 283px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S8SpGLOXMeI/AAAAAAAABO0/n9-aSt2rN80/s320/Ross.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459674571837223394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yep, I wore this $1200 shirt to church on Sunday. And I'm pretty sure everybody thought I was a celebrity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you like that I'm ignoring the fact that it's been over a month since I've blogged? I promise I'll give you more of an update (and tons more pictures) soon. Or relatively soon. I swear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-4428552523996178110?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/4428552523996178110/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=4428552523996178110&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/4428552523996178110?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/4428552523996178110?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/04/two-things.html" title="Two things" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S8SnuE638KI/AAAAAAAABOc/_oj4vq9UMVg/s72-c/T+couch.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcEQHw8cCp7ImA9WxBbEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-3128572476435966631</id><published>2010-03-10T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T18:20:01.278-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-10T18:20:01.278-08:00</app:edited><title>Tyler Daniel</title><content type="html">I guess I should have known. Hindsight is 20/20, isn't that what they say? 4 years ago today, I should have known that my life was about to drastically change. Oh, I knew I was in for some change. Going from one child to 2. Changing 2 sets of diapers instead of 1. Needing to ask one child to wait as I dealt with the other. But I was about to have another boy. I knew how to have a boy. Things would go just about the same, right? &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then the monitor on my huge belly started to alarm. The nurse moved it around, then moved me around, then put an oxygen mask on my face. My heart started to pound. Tears welled up in my eyes. This baby was scaring me. Then things seemingly went back to normal, and because my epidural was working quite nicely, I sighed with relief. Soon it was time to do the "practice" push before they called my doctor in the room. I literally had barely started pushing when the nurse held her hands out and yelled, "STOP, stop, stop!" I looked up at Dan, who started laughing and made some comment about how he was going to just squirt right out across the room, and then I started laughing. The nurse quickly said, "Oh, DON'T make her laugh, seriously, he is coming out." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And thus began the flurry of activity, 800 nurses flying around the room, one standing at the foot of my bed, ready to catch a child should I dare laugh again. Then my doctor arrived, asked me to push, and 1/2 a push later I heard, "STOP." And then I heard, "okay, the cord is wrapped around his neck, I need some help here." And my heart stopped again. Don't scare me like this, child! Seconds later I heard him cry, and I saw his blue tinged little body (see his hands?) start to pink up while screaming on my chest, and I knew I was in love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447096401430492642" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S5f5UTCSteI/AAAAAAAABN8/IsE8OoVb51I/s320/hi+mommy.JPG" /&gt;I just didn't realize then that this child would continue, sometimes daily, to scare the life out of me and then make me laugh within a minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My baby turns 4 today. Tyler Daniel. Ty. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Beebs&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Beebee&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Beebs&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;McTeebs&lt;/span&gt;. The one person I know who can bring out the most emotion in me. For better or worse; I've discovered that phrase applies to more than just a marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ty can move from the most defiant child in the universe to the most loving in 2.5 seconds flat. This kid doesn't do anything halfway. He is passionate about whatever it is that he's doing. He'll go from cheering wildly while watching a basketball game on TV, to focusing intently on his latest puzzle. Precisely coloring a picture, to giving a serious beating to his competitor on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; boxing. He's either yelling at the top of his lungs, or whispering a secret in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;someone's&lt;/span&gt; ear. He softly pets the dog, then tries to push poor Felix down the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mentioned &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt;. Right now, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; is Ty's reason for getting up in the morning. His reason for breathing. His little competitive spirit both excites me and terrifies me. Team sports are just around the corner for him. Hopefully we can channel that drive to win in a positive way. It's a little ridiculous to say that I think &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; has really helped him with that. Or, used to. See, I used to be able to beat him. I would let him win sometimes, and then frequently I'd win so that he would learn that even when you don't win you can still have fun playing. Unfortunately I can't always win anymore. Yes, a 4 year old is &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;consistently&lt;/span&gt; beating me. And I'm not half bad. Just saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ee82cfe4063bde27" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;
&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;
&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;
&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dee82cfe4063bde27%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329520681%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D37B57DE8E117E76495B957612FDB8E7DE846755.27EFD6C5F3F38B83D405E54A8DE31FCB9C10C511%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dee82cfe4063bde27%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DL8kzqtouu8nODx0v6Y3oDAXdtok&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;
&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"
width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"
flashvars="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dee82cfe4063bde27%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329520681%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D37B57DE8E117E76495B957612FDB8E7DE846755.27EFD6C5F3F38B83D405E54A8DE31FCB9C10C511%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dee82cfe4063bde27%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DL8kzqtouu8nODx0v6Y3oDAXdtok&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"
allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no way I could love my baby more. The times I've wanted to pull my hair out may just about equal the times I've laughed, but when he sits on my lap, kisses me, hugs me, or grins at me with that dimpled left cheek, I can't imagine living life without him. And not just the good parts. The whole Ty package. The high highs and the low lows. Ty wouldn't be Ty without the indescribable messes he creates, the mismatched shorts and tank tops on 30 degree days, the Dramamine dependence, the flashes of rage when I tell him the fruit snacks are gone, the manipulative "I'm too tired to go to bed," statements, the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;insistence&lt;/span&gt; on the red car cart behind all the blue ones at Fred Meyer, the fists of fury. He wouldn't be him if I didn't want to ring his neck on a daily basis. And he wouldn't be him if my heart didn't squeeze when he cuddles up next to me and he tells me tells me he loves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited to see what God has in store for this kid. Whatever Ty does, he will do it well. I just pray that whatever he does won't involve the risk of bodily harm on a daily basis. At least it's already been confirmed multiple times (like &lt;a href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/08/californ-i.html"&gt;here &lt;/a&gt;and &lt;a href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-have-winner.html"&gt;here &lt;/a&gt;and many other times I've been too traumatized to blog about) that he's got a guardian angel who's quick on his toes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 296px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447094705032032034" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S5f3xjdYbyI/AAAAAAAABN0/USoeJPLCv3Q/s320/Ty+bathtub.jpg" /&gt; Happy, happy birthday Tyler Daniel! You make my heart full.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-3128572476435966631?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/3128572476435966631/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=3128572476435966631&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3128572476435966631?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3128572476435966631?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/03/tyler-daniel.html" title="Tyler Daniel" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S5f5UTCSteI/AAAAAAAABN8/IsE8OoVb51I/s72-c/hi+mommy.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08BQXg4fSp7ImA9WxBUEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-571201696082161370</id><published>2010-02-27T09:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T10:37:30.635-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-27T10:37:30.635-08:00</app:edited><title>We have a loser</title><content type="html">...and no, it's not me, though I realize it's been almost 2 months since I've updated the blog. Think of me what you will, but I'm NOT a loser. Jake is. A tooth-loser that is. Sweet mother of mercy when did I get old enough to have a child who loses teeth?&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S4lkmiF0xsI/AAAAAAAABNk/Kl4wSWUEBcU/s1600-h/jake+toothless.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 271px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442992237802997442" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S4lkmiF0xsI/AAAAAAAABNk/Kl4wSWUEBcU/s320/jake+toothless.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see, what else? January and February were good, thanks for asking. We've had plenty of busy days and lots on our plates and on our minds, thus the lack of blogging activity. Dan hasn't been coaching since mid-January, so he's home at 3:30 most days. The boys and I are loving it! But we've, mostly I'VE, been filling up our copious amounts of "free time" with all sorts of activities. Side-note: when I use words like copious, does it: a)make you think I'm superbly intelligent, b)irritate you, or c)cause you to think I'm ridiculous for being proud of the fact that I threw out the word copious in the midst of a totally normal sentence? Personally I go for option d): think about freshman honors English and how when I actually use those vocab words I learned so long ago, I feel like a real adult. You'll be excited to know that I've just decided to use more vocab words in the paragraphs to follow. Isn't this going to be fun?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, sorry. I'll move on to more germane subjects. Though you know how when I get going I tend to be quite loquacious. No one can accuse me of being taciturn. I may be too garrulous in my posts, but at least they're not phlegmatic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, seriously now. Jake lost a tooth. He is officially, "the man" at preschool. His teacher told me that 2 of the girls follow him around everywhere, and that half the class wants to marry him. Lord help me on the day that girls start calling my house to talk to my boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ty is as passionate about life as ever. He's currently obsessed with Wii Sports. My facebook status the other day was, "my 3 1/2 year old is getting seriously good at Wii. And trash talking. While he was legitimately beating me at baseball today, he shouted, 'You're going DOWN, baby!'" Cracks me up, that kid. And my Mr. Beebs is not going to be 3 1/2 much longer. His birthday is rapidly approaching. So are my gray hairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And us? Well, Dan and I have had approximately 65 people over for dinner in the past month. I've been working here and there. Last weekend I had a girls slumber party for our church youth group, which was AWESOME! We did all sorts of girly things like homemade facials and make-overs. I'm not used to so much girl related business in this house full of testosterone. Thanks, ladies, I hope you had half as much fun as I did! &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S4lkm7l6VLI/AAAAAAAABNs/AomrNephn9M/s1600-h/girls+night.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442992244648465586" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S4lkm7l6VLI/AAAAAAAABNs/AomrNephn9M/s320/girls+night.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're still hosting a small group Bible study at our house every Tuesday night, which has been amazing. Super fun, but super challenging too. Love those people. Have I told you that our church is the best? Cause it is. Gresham Bible Church. Sunday's at 10:30. Go check out the &lt;a href="http://greshambible.org/"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt;. And stop by sometime. We have free snacks and coffee every week. Jesus did say to "feed my sheep," right? Seriously though, church is a huge part of our lives, and we've been so blessed by the relationships we've made at GBC. And by the encouragement and conviction we get from our pastor Vergil, who can really preach it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, what else? We've got a lot more things scheduled in the next few weeks. A baby shower (shocker, I know), Ty's birthday parties (3 of them. For real.), hostessing more dinners and people. Being a good wife and a good parent and a good friend. You know. The busy and boring, the marvelous and mundane, but the always very rewarding same ole, same ole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That may be it, friends. At least you know I'm going to post again on Ty's birthday. Shoot, I'd better start writing that pretty soon. Like maybe now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-571201696082161370?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/571201696082161370/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=571201696082161370&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/571201696082161370?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/571201696082161370?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/02/we-have-loser.html" title="We have a loser" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S4lkmiF0xsI/AAAAAAAABNk/Kl4wSWUEBcU/s72-c/jake+toothless.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4BSH8zfSp7ImA9WxBQEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-3133109399749817760</id><published>2010-01-08T14:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T23:09:19.185-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-08T23:09:19.185-08:00</app:edited><title>Back to life, back to reality</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0gCKIawPUI/AAAAAAAABLw/AFWrf20t5wQ/s1600-h/jt+beach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 215px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424588124249406786" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0gCKIawPUI/AAAAAAAABLw/AFWrf20t5wQ/s320/jt+beach.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Dang you, Maui, Hawaii. Dang your lack of responsibilities. Dang your carefree laziness. Dang your insistence on leisure. Dang your redefinition of productivity. Dang your blissful do-as-you-wish-when-you-wish-it-...ness. You've made me relax into a puddle of unconstrained slackericity. Slackerocity? Even now you're forcing me to make up words for my lack of motivation to do anything that doesn't involve laying in the sun. Well, my tan has faded, so I can no longer pretend I'm still in Maui when I look in the mirror. It's officially time to get back into real life. The daily grind. Same ol' same ol'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I knew once I blogged about it, the bubble would burst. So I apologize to the 2 people who might have actually believed I'd be typing furiously right after we stepped off the plane a week and a half ago. For the rest of you who are just now checking this in the month of February, you know me too well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I am, of course, exaggerating how little I did in Hawaii, and how devastated I was to come home. Actually, I'll be honest. I'm not really exaggerating how little I did, but the part about dreading being home is completely false. As much as I loved soaking in the vitamin D, I really did miss home and was happy to come back to it. But you didn't blog surf over here to read about Oregon. And I didn't sit down 26 interrupted times to type about Gresham. So here's a brief (laugh...out loud please) synopsis of our Christmas vacation: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really and truly, I did nothing. And I brought home proof. #1 is my tan that has since washed away in the rain. #2 is some extra body fat. My dad, who is very fit and healthy, said he gained 8 pounds in Hawaii. I may have gained a few (dozen) more than that. Give or take. I'm pretty sure I drank 8 pounds of passion-orange-guava juice alone. Oh how I miss thee, POG. You and your 10% fruit juice, 90% high fructose corn syrup/deliciousness. I also had a few pounds of macadamia nut pancakes. Mmmmmm. I'm salivating. Course that's maybe because I've only eaten a hot dog today that I bought while shopping at Target because I forgot to have lunch and was on the verge of passing out. Sorry, little Gresham interjection. Where was I? Maui. Oh yes, food. Cheeseburger in Paradise. Teryaki steak, carrot cake muffins, Hula pie, cashew chicken stir fry, BBQ steak and twice baked potatoes, pecan monkey bread, tropical smoothies. Oh and did I mention POG and mac pancakes? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those delicious delights - the calories burned from jumping into the pool when I got too hot from laying out = enough of a fat layer to keep me warm for the rest of an Oregon winter...or 5. Now while I was winning grand prize in the eating and lounging around competition, my boys were burning calories like it was going out of style. They swam for hours. Not even a joke. Water wings are probably the best invention since POG. And you know how I feel about POG. Ty was leaping head first into the deep end of the pool. The kid couldn't love the water more. Unless maybe he had gills.&lt;br /&gt;Jake got used to a mask and snorkel in the pool and then he went out into the ocean with Dan and my dad and a pair of kid flippers, and made his mama proud. He snorkeled like a pro, out for an hour with the fishies and even a pack of turtles. A pod of turtles? A herd? Doesn't matter, Dan says they were surrounded by 10 turtles and Jake was loving every second of it. Good gracious, that little man in his Hawaiian print swim trunks, his Quicksilver rashguard shirt and a snorkel coming out of his mouth. Dude with a capital D.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424607472272077746" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0gTwVa087I/AAAAAAAABMY/wXLA3dJdFlM/s320/jake+snorkeling.jpg" /&gt;And how amazing is this picture. Face to face with a sea turtle. I bet most 5 year olds don't have a pic like this one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424576233311169858" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0f3V_OJ7UI/AAAAAAAABLg/xFlRis6R4IM/s320/jake+vs+turtle.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424614020783487250" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0gZtghnORI/AAAAAAAABMo/N8h8aAS0Vlc/s320/Hawaii+2009.5.jpg" /&gt;I just realized I'm going to have to do a gazillion picture collages just to show you the tip of the iceberg. Dang you again, Maui. So much time and effort into your blog. I'm just going to insert a video here because I've already drug this out too long. Oh no, I have so much more to go. This was the boys first time flying, and I knew they'd love it. For the first 5 minutes or so. It was long, but they both did so well. Only one mishap when Ty dumped out my bag to look for a toy, and ended up dumping out the goldfish crackers all over the floor as well. Here's Ty and his first take-off. You can also hear Jake, who was sitting right in front of us with my dad, in the background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-8b5a5337979a5ed2" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;
&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;
&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;
&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8b5a5337979a5ed2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329520681%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4F0769FCAB912092D9CEE3270D3BAC07CE92C5DE.148F26F8B75F5ED760C8C527DEFB5BB9709D1906%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8b5a5337979a5ed2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D_tAcBox9mhCz9LXGFQWBKTMKCuM&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;
&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"
width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"
flashvars="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8b5a5337979a5ed2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329520681%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4F0769FCAB912092D9CEE3270D3BAC07CE92C5DE.148F26F8B75F5ED760C8C527DEFB5BB9709D1906%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8b5a5337979a5ed2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D_tAcBox9mhCz9LXGFQWBKTMKCuM&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"
allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;And here's some pictures. Make up your own captions, would'ya? I'm really worded out all of a sudden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424595245291965890" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0gIooXmjcI/AAAAAAAABMA/VQMwsw7thiM/s320/Hawaii+2009.1.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;Did I say I was worded out? I'm a disgrace to the Alcorn blood. Looking through the pictures, including some I've borrowed from my photographically gifted father, I realized I forgot to tell you one major thing. We went whale watching. And ooooooh did we watch some whales. One came just a few feet from our boat and Dan caught the end of it on a bumpy video, but this ginormous beast poked his head out of the water and proceeded to show us his entire back and slap his tail at the end of his production. Quite the show off. It was pretty impressive. The boys loved the whole experience. And I loved the fact that I remembered Ty's Dramamine. I even slipped some to Jake. And Dan. The whole morning was vomit free and fabulous. It was an experience we will surely never forget. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-8f5b26922f7362b2" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;
&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;
&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;
&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v23.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8f5b26922f7362b2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329520681%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D60AFB83036E9E416989DD3E33289CCC484C0366F.2838154BBDD4EAB902587B05BE0F707EE9645852%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8f5b26922f7362b2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DzWOBSHTQmSxUuXr6TCccoRB6qcM&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;
&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"
width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"
flashvars="flvurl=http://v23.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8f5b26922f7362b2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329520681%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D60AFB83036E9E416989DD3E33289CCC484C0366F.2838154BBDD4EAB902587B05BE0F707EE9645852%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8f5b26922f7362b2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DzWOBSHTQmSxUuXr6TCccoRB6qcM&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"
allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424596357117046178" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0gJpWPW7aI/AAAAAAAABMI/ORD8B7VAKAk/s320/Hawaii+2009.2.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;I have to admit that it felt very weird on Christmas day. I've never been away from home on Christmas, and of course never in a place that was 80+ degrees. But the kids sure didn't miss cuddling up by the fire and sipping hot chocolate. They had a blast jumping into the pool and dodging waves on the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-1e1c1ada0cd8b4df" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;
&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;
&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;
&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D1e1c1ada0cd8b4df%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329520681%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D9174493141A578A6616426880138BF2E72B16C3.43B536B9331E0552016426AFE18ED76A15AC3FAE%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1e1c1ada0cd8b4df%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DoBjAy8cdnW_9tVmrTaq_gwheMK0&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;
&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"
width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"
flashvars="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D1e1c1ada0cd8b4df%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329520681%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D9174493141A578A6616426880138BF2E72B16C3.43B536B9331E0552016426AFE18ED76A15AC3FAE%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1e1c1ada0cd8b4df%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DoBjAy8cdnW_9tVmrTaq_gwheMK0&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"
allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here are just some more pictures. It's past ridiculous how much time I've spent on this blog. I should have broken it up. YIKES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424576914421219010" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0f39ojcfsI/AAAAAAAABLo/ymv81RRjClI/s320/Ty+underwater.jpg" /&gt;This is Ty, looking through a plastic cut out on a floaty toy. It was taken by my dad with an underwater camera when he was...under the water. Love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And here's more random goodness. Including a few of me, just so you know I was really there. I knew you were wondering. One of these pics includes Jake's new BFF, Dillon. An 11 year old who was a real sweetheart to Jake and his undying devotion. There was hardly a minute that went by without a mention of the famous Dillon and his cool goggles and awesome skateboard. Dillon, you will be missed.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424607124423404306" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0gTcFlPaxI/AAAAAAAABMQ/_OxRiNX7CUM/s320/Hawaii+2009.3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424611466254743634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0gXY0Kf-FI/AAAAAAAABMg/-8xX-Z_8ZGU/s320/Hawaii+2009.4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And Maui, you too will be missed. But life goes on here in Gresham. I'm not going to tell you about it for quite a long time, of course. If you read through this whole thing (and watched the videos) all in one sitting...you're probably either really trying to avoid doing something important, or you're my mother-in-law. Love you, Ann! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My word count on this blog alone should satisfy the rest of you readers for a few weeks. More like months. I'm going to bed. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-3133109399749817760?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/3133109399749817760/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=3133109399749817760&amp;isPopup=true" title="10 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3133109399749817760?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3133109399749817760?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2010/01/back-to-life-back-to-reality.html" title="Back to life, back to reality" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/S0gCKIawPUI/AAAAAAAABLw/AFWrf20t5wQ/s72-c/jt+beach.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YMQXk7eCp7ImA9WxBSEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-8736910557046796440</id><published>2009-12-17T06:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T06:13:00.700-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-17T06:13:00.700-08:00</app:edited><title>Mele Kalikimaka to all</title><content type="html">Sorry I didn't get to update you before we left. That just means you'll REALLY get a blog-full when we return. Until then, Mele Kalikimaka, friends. Warmest Christmas wishes...&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SynHmKlptMI/AAAAAAAABLY/eSNzSDIaM04/s1600-h/Hawaii1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SynHmKlptMI/AAAAAAAABLY/eSNzSDIaM04/s320/Hawaii1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416079485380965570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;...get it? In all seriousness, the Stump family wishes everyone a truly special time with family and friends this season as you celebrate the birth of our Savior. Happy birthday Jesus!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-8736910557046796440?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/8736910557046796440/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=8736910557046796440&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/8736910557046796440?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/8736910557046796440?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/12/mele-kalikimaka-to-all.html" title="Mele Kalikimaka to all" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SynHmKlptMI/AAAAAAAABLY/eSNzSDIaM04/s72-c/Hawaii1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cFQX4yeyp7ImA9WxNaF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-6866628514850562450</id><published>2009-12-02T10:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T10:36:50.093-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-02T10:36:50.093-08:00</app:edited><title>The month that was November</title><content type="html">Just a warning: this will not be the best blog post you've ever read. I don't think you'll laugh til you cry, or be moved to tears in any way, but at least you'll get a little update, right? Maybe I'll even edit this post later so it's more interesting...oh forget it, read on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few quotes I don't want to forget:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick background on this one. After Jake's soccer practice a long time ago the boys were complaining about being hungry. They hadn't eaten a big dinner, so I stopped at Burger King and became Mom of the Year when I bought them 2 "burger shots" to share. You've seen those annoying commercials, haven't you? "Oooh, look at those cute little burgers!" I said quick background, didn't I. Ha! Anyway, at the grocery store before Thanksgiving they have those really tiny pumpkins you can use for decoration in the produce section. Jake pointed at them and practically yelled, "Mom, look at those cute little pumpkins...they're like pumpkin shots!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since we're talking about grocery store quotes, and produce departments...when Ty looked at a huge pile of yams he stated, "Ew, Mama, those look like slugs." Indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanksgiving was awesome. I don't even want to think about how many carbohydrates I shoved into my stomach. It wouldn't have been so bad if I'd stopped at one turkey dinner. I had 3. Not 3 helpings, 3 different dinners. Alcorn's at noon, Stumps at 4:30, and another full meal at around 2 in the morning. That was at work, I'm not that much of a food addict that I'd get out of bed in the middle of the night to feast again. 3 delicious dinners. Lucky? Sure. Now tipping the scales? Definitely. Perfect, right before Hawaii. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oooh, does anybody not know that my parents are taking our whole family to Hawaii for Christmas? Aloooooha. That's why one of the Christmas songs on my playlist is Mele Kalikimaka. Just so you know that song will be the only one playing on my blog from December 17-28. So if you need your Bing Crosby Christmas fix, I'm your girl. And no, my parents are not looking to adopt any more children before December 17th, sorry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the quotes. Both the boys have had the most ginormous appetites lately. Just a small picture of what's to come, I'm sure. Jake was eating pancakes the other morning, and halfway through his third (large) one, he groaned and said, "Whoa Mom, it's like Man vs. Food."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two nights ago we celebrated my mom's birthday. We had a great time over at my sister's house, eating dinner and the famous chocolate log cake that's her fave, and hanging out as a family. Later on my mom was opening presents and Jake, Ty, and cousin Matt were surrounding her, telling her what each present was. A few presents were wrapped by Matt (5 years old) and filled with little treasures he wanted to pass on. The first one she opened contained a small cut out of the state of Tennessee. Jake quickly announced, "well, that's not much of a present." My sons, always oozing with sensitivity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, moving away from quotable quotes now. Of course the month of November wouldn't have been complete without throwing another baby shower. This time I had help from my friend Emily, God bless her. We had a great time showering one of my BFF's Natalie and chatting and laughing. There is always tons of laughter when you're near Natalie, she and her hubby are a tag team duo of comedic genius. Love them. Here's yet another diaper cake for Natalie and baby boy (who is going to show his sweet little face any day now!) I'm thinking about setting up a website to sell my diaper cakes. I could feed my family for months with the amount of money those things go for online. They are not that difficult my friends. If I, craft-dud extraordinaire, can do it...&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sxav6gB26SI/AAAAAAAABLM/hzm7u5uM8mQ/s1600-h/Natalie+diaper+cake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sxav6gB26SI/AAAAAAAABLM/hzm7u5uM8mQ/s320/Natalie+diaper+cake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410705421897230626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By the way, I am not even remotely serious about the website, so don't go Googling "diaper cakes by Ang" anytime soon. Or ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise I'll blog about Hawaii before June. Maybe I'll even sneak in one more before we leave. That's a big fat maybe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-6866628514850562450?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/6866628514850562450/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=6866628514850562450&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/6866628514850562450?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/6866628514850562450?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/12/month-that-was-november.html" title="The month that was November" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sxav6gB26SI/AAAAAAAABLM/hzm7u5uM8mQ/s72-c/Natalie+diaper+cake.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8NRXs_fCp7ImA9WxNUGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-6250063426464672437</id><published>2009-11-11T09:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T10:41:34.544-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-11T10:41:34.544-08:00</app:edited><title>Whaaaaat?</title><content type="html">Yes, please don't faint. I'm posting two times in the same week. You can thank my BFF Megan who has started a recipe exchange. Mmmm, I love me some good new recipes. This time it's a main dish...and let me just tell you that this main dish is now MY main dish. Mexican Chicken Lasagna. It's like sour cream chicken enchiladas except for more amazing because it has Doritos on top. Holy delicious. It does take a bit of time to do, preparing the chicken and all the layering, but it's soooooo worth it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found it in one of those little recipe books you find at the checkstand at the grocery store. I wish I had a scanner to show you how marvelous this looks. Maybe I'll make it soon and post a picture. And you know what, I'm also going to post another main dish recipe because I've shared this other one with a lot of people already. Yep, two for the price of one, all here at the Stump blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mexican Chicken Lasagna &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12 lasagna noodles&lt;br /&gt;2 cans (10 3/4 oz each) cream of chicken soup&lt;br /&gt;8 oz sour cream&lt;br /&gt;1/4 cup milk&lt;br /&gt;3 cups cooked cubed chicken&lt;br /&gt;1 can (4 oz) green chilies&lt;br /&gt;1 tsp cumin&lt;br /&gt;1/2 tsp garlic powder&lt;br /&gt;1 can (2 1/4 oz) sliced black olives&lt;br /&gt;1 cup (8-10) green onions, chopped&lt;br /&gt;3 cups Mexican cheese blend (cheddar and jack)&lt;br /&gt;1 cup crushed nacho cheese tortilla chips&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Heat oven to 350. Cook lasagna noodles and drain. While noodles are cooking, mix next 7 ingredients (soup to garlic powder) in large bowl. In a greased 9x13 pan, layer chicken mixture, olives, green onions and cheese like you would a lasagna, starting with a small amount of the chicken mixture at the bottom before adding noodles. Save largest layer of cheese for the top. Bake uncovered for 35-45 minutes or until bubbly and hot in center. Add crushed chips and cook another 5 minutes until chips get slightly brown. Let stand for 10 minutes before cutting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the freebie (you can tell we like Mexican food and Nacho Cheese Doritos around here):  &lt;a href="http://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/Nacho-Pie-2"&gt;Nacho pie&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise I do cook healthier options sometimes. But if you're looking for mm'mm good, these are winners. Now it's YOUR turn! Even if you're not in Megan's recipe exchange, I'd love to see your favorites! Leave me a comment with your recipe or a link to it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mmm, and now that I'm salivating all over my compter, I believe it's time for a snack.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-6250063426464672437?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/6250063426464672437/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=6250063426464672437&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/6250063426464672437?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/6250063426464672437?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/11/whaaaaat.html" title="Whaaaaat?" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMBSX4zfSp7ImA9WxNUGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-8381902160241210565</id><published>2009-11-09T12:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T13:00:58.085-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-09T13:00:58.085-08:00</app:edited><title>It's about time</title><content type="html">Sorry folks. My sad little twice-a-month blogging has turned into skipping a full month. It's a little overwhelming to start trying to record "October" in one sitting, and also trying to make it somewhat interesting for you to read. Here's hopin' you'll understand why the computer hasn't been my priority:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday October 2 our nephews Matt and Jack came to stay with us for the weekend. I posted on my facebook account, "looking forward to the chaos of a weekend with 4 boys...age 5 and under. Jake and Ty are pumped for slumber parties with their cousins!" and then after the boys went home on Sunday evening I posted, "I love my nephews, but I'm pretty sure that this weekend God audibly confirmed our decision to stop at 2 boys." The kids had a blast together, the older 3 sleeping sideways on a blow-up bed in J&amp;T's room. Buuuuuut I'm definitely not cut out for the part of Michelle Duggar on "18 Kids and Counting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next night we hosted over 20 people for Monday night football. I cleaned the house. I cooked dinner. But other people brought side dishes and we really had a great time. We have some amazing friends. We're really blessed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So speaking of blessed, I got a fever that Wednesday afternoon, the 7th. But then felt much better and fever-free on Thursday so I made the worst decision of 2009 and went to work from 3pm-3:30am. Everyone and their second cousin were leaving their beds, sitting in a jam packed ER waiting room for 4 hours just to hear an official diagnosis of H1N1 influenza. Piggy flu. This is what a lot of staff looked like on that night:&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Svhr7PUc9wI/AAAAAAAABKs/2GcTRUBo2SM/s1600-h/PAPR.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402186418499680002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Svhr7PUc9wI/AAAAAAAABKs/2GcTRUBo2SM/s320/PAPR.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And we tell people not to worry, it's not that big of a deal. Let me just go put on a ridiculous piece of headgear connected to a battery powered belt to be 100% certain you can't breathe on my face, and I'm sure that will make you feel more calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't actually leave work until almost 4am, and by the time I was walking out to my car, I knew my fever was returning. I should have brought a space suit home to protect my family. Friday night my status was, "I don't think I have swine flu, because according to the media I should be nearer to death. On second thought, death doesn't sound too bad right now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very confident that we did in fact get the H1N1 flu. I say "we" because Jake got a fever 2 days later, and Ty got a fever 2 days after that. Dan slept downstairs on the futon for 8 nights. Seriously. Eight. Good thing it's comfy. He's still healthy. Knock on wood. The kids recovered, but I got a sinus infection on top of it all, so it took me a course of antibiotics longer. Could I dare to hope that we'll stay healthy the rest of the season?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One heart-warming story from that miserable 2 weeks happened on a night that Ty was sleeping in my bed. He kept waking up thrashing around, crying and burning with a fever, and dripping snot all over my bed. Heart warming already, I know. This kid is a terribly wild sleeper to begin with; he was doing 360's all night. And I still had a fever and hadn't breathed through my nose in what felt like years. I was, needless to say, having a hard time sleeping. I had finally just started to drift off to sleep when Ty kicked me in the face. Twice. Rapid-fire style. I wasn't at the peak of patience when I pushed his feet toward the end of the bed and shoved his head back onto his pillow. I had a nightlight on (Dan gets nervous sometimes) and so I could see Ty crack open one eye. "Love you, Mama." And then the snores returned. He may have been in a feverish stupor, but I couldn't help but smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;October post-sickness was good. It was really good in fact. Still busy of course. We hosted more football, we started a small group Bible study with our church that meets at our house. I just can't say enough how much I l-o-v-e that group. It's been awesome to get to know some new people. Our church rules. What else? I threw another baby shower to show off the mastery of my creative diaper-caking once again. For your viewing pleasure:&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SvhyOTNY7OI/AAAAAAAABK0/mRMAvUw8X28/s1600-h/ladybug+cake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 221px; height: 166px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SvhyOTNY7OI/AAAAAAAABK0/mRMAvUw8X28/s320/ladybug+cake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402193343031078114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gracious, could I be close to finishing? October 31st. It started with Jake's last soccer game, where he closed out the season by scoring his most athletic and picture-perfect goal ever. He took the ball all the way down the field to the goal. It's ridiculous how proud it made me feel. Then we had a pizza party with his team where he got a soccer medal (one of his most prized possessions to date). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we changed into Halloween mode. What excitement! The build up to any holiday is a lot more fun with kids. We carved pumpkins and Jake actually threw up with his hand full of pumpkin guts. He took a big whiff and couldn't stop gagging, which ended poorly for my kitchen floor. Ty was up to his elbows in goo and couldn't get enough of it. Which also ended poorly for the floor, but I guess I did need to mop anyway. My Nascar driver and Spiderman on Halloween night, showing us the fastest route to the most candy (sorry, I didn't get a lot of great pix): &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Svh-RzqxoqI/AAAAAAAABK8/l0huMGVOUls/s1600-h/halloween+09.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Svh-RzqxoqI/AAAAAAAABK8/l0huMGVOUls/s320/halloween+09.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402206597423407778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dan wanted to paste a sign on Jake's back that his costume was not dad-approved. Dan hates Nascar. "It's not a sport...you just drive around in circles. How athletic is turning left?" Anyway, Jake is and always has been obsessed with cars, and because my parents know some people involved with Nascar, they've encouraged the passion inside my son. I think, regardless of the "is Nascar a sport" debate, that they both looked awesome. They had a blast trick-or-treating in downtown Gresham and a little bit around our neighborhood. We had dinner at my sister's house, and just generally had a great day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my goodness sakes. I might be done. I've almost worked up a sweat here. I know it's the 7th of November, but I only promised October, people. Here's my pledge to you, and to myself, not to go months between posts. And here's a picture of Ty's actual face not covered by a mask. And because post-bathtime is when I love this child the most.  &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SviAz_XXKiI/AAAAAAAABLE/WoTYVPbexfo/s1600-h/Ty+postbath.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SviAz_XXKiI/AAAAAAAABLE/WoTYVPbexfo/s320/Ty+postbath.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402209383702014498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take a nap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-8381902160241210565?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/8381902160241210565/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=8381902160241210565&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/8381902160241210565?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/8381902160241210565?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-about-time_09.html" title="It's about time" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Svhr7PUc9wI/AAAAAAAABKs/2GcTRUBo2SM/s72-c/PAPR.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IFQXszeyp7ImA9WxNUF0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-4364411995817330961</id><published>2009-09-30T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T10:31:50.583-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-09T10:31:50.583-08:00</app:edited><title>Little of this, little of that</title><content type="html">Sorry for those of you who've seen 28 different new blog templates. I think I've officially decided on this one. For now. I think. Like it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, where were we? September 15, okay. What has happened since September 15? It's funny, I'm completely thankful I haven't been in a baby/potty training toddler fog for a long time, but I feel like I'm starting a new fog. A Fall Fog if you will. A Furiously Fast Fall Fog. Does anyone else love alliteration as much as I? Maybe not. ANYway. Busy bees we are. Oh the urge to start alliterating again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the 19th the boys and I went to the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus. Dan was at the Huskies game in Seattle watching them beat USC which was certainly more entertaining for him than watching elephants stand on each other. But for the kids...oh, HEAVEN on earth. They just had the greatest time. And I had the greatest time too, because we went with friends who got hooked up with a suite at the Rose Garden. Our very own personal bathroom, which in itself is probably worth the cost of renting the suite for an entire year. Free popcorn and pop and a waitress who brought us our hearts desire for a small fee. Or a ridiculous fee, whatever. The fact that an Oscar Mayer wiener costs about as much as my grocery budget for the week didn't even phase me we were having so much fun. And since we didn't have to pay for anything else...bring it on Oscar.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SsN_4EG0jCI/AAAAAAAABKc/yJVleOjsgC4/s1600-h/circus+collage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SsN_4EG0jCI/AAAAAAAABKc/yJVleOjsgC4/s320/circus+collage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387290180416998434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I "borrowed" some of these pictures from our friend Hannah who is an amazing photographer. Hopefully if I tell you how awesome she is she won't care that I stole her pictures off Facebook and didn't tell her. Now of course she didn't have her great camera and wasn't actually doing a photo shoot, so don't judge her on the fact that you can't clearly see the drops of drool coming out of Ty's mouth as he fell asleep on me 10 minutes before the show ended. If you live in the Portland area, and ever need some seriously incredible pictures, check out &lt;a href="http://www.worldsapartphotography.com/"&gt;Hannah's website&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ty started to stick his head under the trunk of the car as Dan was closing it the other day. Good thing he hadn't gotten his entire neck in there, because Dan doesn't do anything daintily. He's got a humongous goose egg on his scalp, but no broken skin, so we saved another trip to the ER. He's had goose eggs a-plenty, but I'm actually thankful for the terror in his eyes as the trunk bounced off his head and he burst into tears. Nothing like the good healthy fear of decapitation to make a mother proud. Or at least a little less worried that he'll be wearing a full body cast before age 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I've only covered 2 of the last 15 days, but this FFFF is really getting to me. I'll let you know if I remember anything else noteworthy. I'll just leave you this quote from yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While driving home from running errands, Ty states: "Hey Mama, that was pre-tty doggone awesome at the craft store." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I really am depriving you of some amazing stories. Picking out ribbon for another diaper cake at the craft store. Epic. Oh, if Ty could only capture his adventures on his own blog. Now that would be a good read.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-4364411995817330961?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/4364411995817330961/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=4364411995817330961&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/4364411995817330961?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/4364411995817330961?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/09/little-of-this-little-of-that.html" title="Little of this, little of that" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/SsN_4EG0jCI/AAAAAAAABKc/yJVleOjsgC4/s72-c/circus+collage.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IGQ3gycCp7ImA9WxNQEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-3443392188259421396</id><published>2009-09-15T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T10:25:22.698-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-15T10:25:22.698-07:00</app:edited><title>A creative title isn't happening for me</title><content type="html">Two weeks between posts really isn't too bad, is it? Okay, sorry. It's September people...the storm right after the 3 month calm here at the Stump household. Dan's back at school teaching and coaching football and coming home thoroughly exhausted. Jake's back to preschool (for those of you who didn't see my Facebook status, he reminded me on his "first" day of preschool that it was not really his first day because he went to preschool last year. He's a professional preschooler. My bad.) But he's got a new teacher this year, and is in a class with his cuz Matt and friend Julia. He's loving every second of it. Except for the academic part, but we'll get there. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381739242473387474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 223px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sq_HU81n9dI/AAAAAAAABKE/1ALZgfWUunE/s320/jake+day+1+preschool.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Let's see, what else has been happening? Oh, I forgot to mention a few weeks ago that I've been quite the little baby shower hostess lately. Actually, this last one I threw had nothing to do with the word little. (Not you, Kels, you know I'm not referring to you.) A few other ladies and I threw a shower at my house last Sunday after church for our pastor's wife Kelsey. And I never got the official count but I believe there were about 934 women in my living room at one point. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381731326762974978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sq_AIMhMfwI/AAAAAAAABJk/klbHUMWYrHM/s320/kels+baby+shower.jpg" border="0" /&gt;This picture does not even show the standing room only in the kitchen. Y.I.K.E.S. But it was really a lot of fun, and since I had nothing to do with the food, it didn't stress me to the point of needing medication.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381731541355015986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sq_AUr77LzI/AAAAAAAABJs/avWsjRte1tw/s320/cupcakes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381734709928855282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 303px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 311px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sq_DNHyzBvI/AAAAAAAABJ8/7TZxKJ7SSJ0/s320/diaper+cake2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;And I got to practice on my one and only creative baby shower decoration/gift, the diaper cake. Each one I've made makes me feel a little bit more like a crafty genius. I should have my own show on HGTV. Alright, diaper-caking is the limit of my creativity, and once again has been ripped off from someone else. Just let me have my moment, okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381731319668889298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sq_AHyF1VtI/AAAAAAAABJc/gfL1c6GwGFA/s320/kels+and+rache.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I love our church. Love our pastor, and LOVE his wife. And love the awesome friends that we've made at Gresham Bible. Goooooo, GBC! I also love this picture. Friend and fellow youth group leader Rachel on the left, and Kelsey on the right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else? Oh, Jake has started playing soccer this year. And soccer is pretty much the greatest thing a 5 year old boy with endless energy could possibly imagine. His coach goes to our church as well, and deserves lots and lots of crowns in heaven for his patience with my son and his 1 second attention span. Jake had a game last night and scored his first goal. It was kind of an accident, and he didn't even realize the ball had hit his foot and went through the goal until his entire cheering section started hooting and hollering. I've never been so proud...and neither had he once he realized what had happened. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381739246576869266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sq_HVMH-H5I/AAAAAAAABKM/i-Iu8JcBsz8/s320/jake+soccer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381739253589784546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 306px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sq_HVmP-t-I/AAAAAAAABKU/rNIH5wvLe8Y/s320/jake+soccer2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I don't really have a clever segue into the next topic, except for using the word segue which makes me feel pretty brilliant. Anyway, here's a few quotes I don't want to forget so I'm inserting them here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told Ty to find his shoes before we were about to go somewhere. I was around the corner and I heard him saying, "Where's my shoes? Where's my shoes? Where's my...OOOOH, here they are. I got them Mama. I got 'em. Don't worry, here they are." I come around the corner and he's staring at me, completely serious look on his face with Dan's size 12 shoes flopping around on his feet. It wasn't until I burst out laughing that a huge grin broke out on his face. 3 1/2 year old deadpan comic. Cracks me up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next quote happened when we were walking across the grocery store parking lot yesterday, and Jake pulls on my arm and starts dancing around grabbing his foot. We're in the middle of traffic that's waiting for us to cross, and I'm starting to get irritated and dragging him faster.&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Jake, come on. We need to hurry up."&lt;br /&gt;Jake: "Mom, wait, I'm having issues."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also don't think I have a clever ending in me, so I'll just wrap things up by saying...life is good here at the Stump household. Busy, but good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except for a few moments here and there, we're pretty issue-free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-3443392188259421396?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/3443392188259421396/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=3443392188259421396&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3443392188259421396?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3443392188259421396?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/09/two-weeks-between-posts-really-isnt-too.html" title="A creative title isn't happening for me" /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sq_HU81n9dI/AAAAAAAABKE/1ALZgfWUunE/s72-c/jake+day+1+preschool.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMFQXY6cCp7ImA9WxNSGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-3742560898612950905</id><published>2009-09-01T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T10:33:30.818-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-01T10:33:30.818-07:00</app:edited><title>"Hey Mr. DJ...</title><content type="html">...put a record on." Evidently I've decided to begin all my blog posts with song lyrics. And songs I don't even like. Oh well. The Mr. DJ I'm referring to is actually my very own personal DJ. Daniel John that is. He never did go by DJ, but I'm thinking it's about time. After all, he is 29. Today. Happy birthday Deej! Today is not only his birthday, it is also unfortunately his first day back to work after having the summer off. The unfortunately is for the back to work part, not the having the summer off part. Just clarifying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so incredibly blessed to be married to this man. Let me brag about him for a few minutes. I love him. I love hanging out with him. I love discussing the past, present and future with him. I love parenting by his side. I love his high pitched laugh and the tears that roll down his face when he really gets going. I love watching him wrestle with our boys. I love how much Jake and Ty clearly adore him. I love that he is way more sensitive than people think. I love how watching a football game can ease all his sorrows. I love that he can do 12 sports-related things at one time, but that I know he'd drop all of them in a second if his family needed him to. I love that he is never afraid to speak up for what is right. I love that he is a faithful and encouraging friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that for all his manly man-ness his favorite thing in the world to do is cuddle with his boys. (Side note--Ty is a complete Mama's boy and usually only wants to be on my lap. Dan asked him to come cuddle with him earlier this summer and Ty replied, "No Dad, it's not Father's Day." So today, Dan's birthday, is one of 2 days we've convinced him are Daddy Cuddle Days. I'm quite sure it's not the birthday rib-eye Dan will be rushing home for at the end of the day today.)&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sp1aqDfOi_I/AAAAAAAABJU/bwUZ4ih6UYY/s1600-h/dan+and+boys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sp1aqDfOi_I/AAAAAAAABJU/bwUZ4ih6UYY/s320/dan+and+boys.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376553208687528946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thing I love the most about him is his love for God. As in most homes, the husband and father really does set the tone. Because Dan is focused not on himself, but on what God is calling him to do and to be, life is really good around here. I'm so proud of who God has made him. And so excited to see what the future holds for our family as we follow his lead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday, dude! I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35991569-3742560898612950905?l=dastump.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/feeds/3742560898612950905/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35991569&amp;postID=3742560898612950905&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3742560898612950905?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35991569/posts/default/3742560898612950905?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/09/hey-mr-dj.html" title="&quot;Hey Mr. DJ..." /><author><name>ang</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TPAHS4g3V_Q/Sp1aqDfOi_I/AAAAAAAABJU/bwUZ4ih6UYY/s72-c/dan+and+boys.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>

