tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68224583818008648282024-03-13T12:19:31.125-07:00Never Easy - Always GoodCindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-77115397614233149142018-02-09T12:21:00.000-08:002018-02-09T12:21:11.580-08:00My Life as a Ninja Warrior part 1<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">We look "super" because of Brooke Photography!</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Every morning</b></span><span style="font-size: large;"> I have a seemingly simple goal, to get my children out the door and on their way to school. In theory, there should be an effortless flow of events that achieve my daily objective. Yes, daily, wouldn't that mean that our tenacious troupe is in continuous training? Our regular routine transpires six days a week. Sundays, the day of rest, is not immune to this rigorous workout. We wake up, come to the couch (we have a BIG one), Dad prays, we hug each other, then this team endeavor turns to individual events that must work in tandem to come together at the finish line. When they are all on their respective journeys, the closing of the front door is my big red buzzer declaring the completion of my morning ambitions, during which I use every fragment of my faculties to reach. Sometimes I feel as if time will run out and the agony of defeat will envelop my morning when I must fetch my purse, load up the minivan, and transport my team to their individual destinations.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My co-coach, <b>the Hubster, Kevin</b>, strives along side of me utilizing the abilities of our apprentices while strengthening our squad. To do that, we need to be aware of each individual's talents, what they need to work on, as well as train for. Thirty minutes into the morning events he is off to bring home the proverbial bacon. (see that Honey, I wrote a post about bacon, your fave)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Eric:</b> Our original obstacle, I have many years experience with. I know him so well that I should be able to achieve success blindfolded. Sometimes, though, in my overconfidence or his, this now smooth relationship finds an unexpected ripple that muscle memory is unable to overcome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Emily:</b> Being as she is away at college, she is the retro task in our marathon of mornings, a kind of novelty that has been studied for ages yet periodically makes a comeback and for a limited time only. She and I need to continue to train, for our encounters to remain effortless.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Angel:</b> The potential, oh the potential! Seemingly</span><span style="font-size: large;"> capable of accomplishing the simplest of tasks but often forces me to find a more amiable route around the hurdle set in my path. I continue my rigorous training in hopes that one day we can achieve greatness shoulder to shoulder as a true team.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;"><b>Allie:</b> </span>This mountain was a hard climb in an early, less experienced time. As we progress, together, we have begun to understand one another and often work together as the cogs in a fine-tuned mechanism. There are times, though, when she or I become a bit off kilter and the humming of our well-oiled machine turns to a hodgepodge of movement that hinders our desire to pull together.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<b>Joe:</b> Our speed force. Running, running, running through life trying to compete with the big dogs. Often, his leg of the race is handled smoothly and efficiently. His attention is focused on the task at hand. Occasionally, though, his youth and inexperience produce a cocky, overconfident attitude that eventually trips him up thus affecting the entirety of the team. I am positive that, with continual training, he will one day be the anchor to our relay race of life.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<b>Jillian:</b> This is our "slow and steady wins the race" teammate. She is consistent to a fault yet I admire her tenacity and sticktoitiveness. When she has her mind set on a task, she tries to take the time to do it right. The challenge is, getting her to set her mind on the task that achieves my parental goal. It is during her events that I am reminded to take my time and allow her to do what she needs to do. How will she get faster if she doesn't have the opportunity to practice?</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Ben:</b> The new guy, is our assistant coach, cheerleader, MVP, and biggest stumbling block all at the same time. He is a big man in a little body, confident in what he doesn't know. Call out an instruction and he will repeat it and make sure the person addressed heard the mandate. Tell Jillian she needs to get her socks on, he will run ahead and find a pair that matches. Ask him to run on water, he will attempt it many times over to prove he can. Remind him to brush his teeth and he becomes a gelatinous puddle on the ground yelling "NOOOOOO!!!!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then there is me, <b>the MOM</b>. Using the ninja parenting skills I have obtained over the years guiding this group </span>each morning to attain the supposedly, straightforward objective of getting ready for the day. While spending practically every ounce of energy I had accumulated throughout my nightly slumber.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These are the people God gave me to work with, daily. We enjoy each other, we annoy each other, and we LOVE each other. Together, we make sure that our life is... </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Never Easy Always Good"</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Come back soon to see what the first two hours of my morning routine and it's expected and unexpected acts that make it interesting.</span></div>
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-15980823752257586372016-10-07T09:00:00.000-07:002016-10-07T15:47:48.197-07:00The Tree, The Storm, and The Stakes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjub5Njo0kGll7QsOKgSdlVbVWW7Hx6lXaNBRGoztauGM1-wh-VQNLu2Jxr8yBW8eTlCQNsyx0PkCoo8Gzy0Sg6hnTV5uM6MwuvFfrk91aP_kdv7C_D4Px9tr5ztVRVq0_zDxro1etGaW_t/s1600/tree-in-storm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjub5Njo0kGll7QsOKgSdlVbVWW7Hx6lXaNBRGoztauGM1-wh-VQNLu2Jxr8yBW8eTlCQNsyx0PkCoo8Gzy0Sg6hnTV5uM6MwuvFfrk91aP_kdv7C_D4Px9tr5ztVRVq0_zDxro1etGaW_t/s320/tree-in-storm.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">There</span> is a wonderful analogy spoken of in Christian circles. It is one that helps the believer to understand why a loving God would allow trials into the lives of those He adores. I speak of the analogy of the tree and the storm. The illustration basically boils down to this, in order for trees to be strong, they need deep roots. In order to have deep roots, they need to withstand storms. It is the storm that encourages the tree to plant firm roots so as to not topple over. In contrast, trees with shallow roots will easily fall at the slightest squall.<br />
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This morning, on the drive to my 16 year old's high school, I was able to remind him about the purpose of storms in our lives. This past year we have been introduced to facets of our son's life that have been overshadowed throughout the 11 years since his and his sister's adoption. The details of these facets will, I am sure, make the topic of a future blog post. For now, understand that our son has endured far more storms than the Hubster and I were aware of. These disturbances, that we as parents have had no control of, have been brewing in my son's mind for the entirety of his life with us. Often, he can no longer hold back the pressure of life so he finds opportunity to release his anger, hurt and frustration in the place he feels safest, our home. Last night we, as a family, experienced one of those episodes.<br />
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This morning, with the burden relieved, my son was in a place where he could receive some maternal wisdom. I explained that he has had an abundance of storms in his life and that his Dad, the Hubster, and I know he will be able to overcome them. While overcoming these trials, his roots will grow so deep that, we know, he will not be moved nor shaken. He will be stronger than anyone I know. But it is in the overcoming that he will be made stronger, not in the storm itself.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevDZTFX64kUCwU_oatyHc2WZUDYiPABEELzUsxa_m7aecaCAg6pjNMRMTTzQD1FnGKNl2Ccga5qJbs6Ze4CnwgieCk7UfOLF6ZeKWTZQhRH-hgnLOhuvbpK64lf5UrLwGdylvaDKgXuXx/s1600/damaged+tree+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevDZTFX64kUCwU_oatyHc2WZUDYiPABEELzUsxa_m7aecaCAg6pjNMRMTTzQD1FnGKNl2Ccga5qJbs6Ze4CnwgieCk7UfOLF6ZeKWTZQhRH-hgnLOhuvbpK64lf5UrLwGdylvaDKgXuXx/s200/damaged+tree+2.jpg" width="200" /></a>At that moment, I had an epiphany and began to speak to myself as well. You see, when we plant young trees, we use posts or stakes to support them until their roots are mature. Usually, there are two stakes. The responsibility of the stakes are to help the tree not to need them anymore. There the stakes stand, one on each side of the young tree, both gently but firmly holding on to this new life. It is a fine balance, the responsibility of a stake, hold on too tight and the tree can be choked, it could snap when confronted with resistance, or the tree could grow and envelop the stake, never to be free and independent. Yet, take to weak of a grasp and that tree is at the whim of it's environment.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1N6oN0s8PLRsb0NHSNByVBFVU7nQ_wrDcmswZAbtcnKsgg5XkUkUHE-RVbmuxRUw79PnMBSUCVlfYK-vWFRPnJKF-LGLqM5zbHfi-694RQI7Nlxz1SzC_NQBXud80-G-NjfuqYvzVbEy/s1600/how-to-stake-tree-HT-PG-OD-Step1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1N6oN0s8PLRsb0NHSNByVBFVU7nQ_wrDcmswZAbtcnKsgg5XkUkUHE-RVbmuxRUw79PnMBSUCVlfYK-vWFRPnJKF-LGLqM5zbHfi-694RQI7Nlxz1SzC_NQBXud80-G-NjfuqYvzVbEy/s320/how-to-stake-tree-HT-PG-OD-Step1.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
I continued down the road of the responsibility of the stake. You see, the thing about stakes is, they don't leave when the storms come, They withstand the storm with the tree to help it through the winds it would not overcome on it's own. It is during the storm that the stakes' work is most difficult and most important. The stake needs to be planted firmly. The stake needs to be sure of it's job. The stake needs to support yet allow the environment to affect the tree so the roots may grow deep. The stake does this in hopes that the tree will no longer rely on it and will flourish on its own.<br />
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As parents, we stand along side our children. We try to find that balance of strength and flexibility. As parents we weather all that our child endures and hopefully help our young ones to learn for themselves. As parents we set our goals to, one day, watch our child flourish, on his own, independent of us.<br />
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<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-32660789724127135582016-01-28T08:49:00.000-08:002016-01-28T08:49:22.684-08:00Cherished<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">To</span><span style="font-size: large;"> all of the prayer warriors who lift me and my family before our Lord,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 19.32px;">Thank you!</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;"> Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for encouraging me. Thank you for standing in the gap for me. I can do what I do every day because I have people like you support me, whether it be physically, emotionally, academically, or spiritually.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I forget</span><span style="font-size: large;">, though, that people see me. I forget that they see my family. I forget that they can see past our outer layer, which at often times is very thin. I forget that what I do is not the norm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">I don't forget</span><span style="font-size: large;"> is </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Who</span><span style="font-size: large;"> gives me the <b>strength</b> to absorb the seemingly endless rude comments from a child I pour my heart into. I don't forget Who gives me the <b>patience</b> to stop my busy morning to sit with a child who is unable to understand her own emotions. I don't forget Who gives me the <b>encouragement</b> from a song played at just the right moment when I am feeling like I am not doing enough or am not capable of the task before me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Thank you</span><span style="font-size: large;"> for speaking directly to </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Him</span><span style="font-size: large;"> for me, my husband, my child, my family. Please know that you are </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">cherished </span><span style="font-size: large;">by this Warrior Mom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cindy</span></div>
Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-79593958353449367192015-05-04T07:09:00.003-07:002015-05-04T07:09:52.433-07:00Excited in More Ways than One!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Few Years Back</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">May the 4th be with you! Happy Star Wars Day! To celebrate, why don't you click on over to </span><a href="http://www.divineinthedaily.com/2015/05/04/my-life-in-a-week/" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.divineinthedaily.com/2015/…/04/my-life-in-a-week/</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> and take a gander at my post. Thank you to Amy Pederson for this opportunity to share my family and a little bit of our lives together.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">This week my marriage is LEGAL!!!! Yep, 21 AMAZING years!!!! I am thankful for every single of day of my life with the Hubster, Kevin Schulze!!!!! I can't imagine sharing this crazy life with anyone but him!!!</span>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-54791158618133200722014-08-14T10:59:00.000-07:002014-08-14T13:27:49.870-07:0030 years? What the???<div dir="ltr">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is it, my old stomping grounds! Who is that funny guy there?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Here I am</b></span>, well into the second leg of our return trip from my home town of Santa Barbara CA. It had been 15 years since I was able to spend any good amount of time visiting, reminiscing, and making new memories in that beautiful coastal city. There was that time, last December, when the Schulze clan stopped for half a day and a motel room to visit my sister and rest our travel weary bones. While we did get to enjoy the local zoo with my big sis, that was about it. <i>For your information you know your brood is big when it is cheaper to buy a Zoo Membership for the fam than to pay entry fees for each individual person. Just sayin'.</i> That pass did come in handy for this long weekend trip as the Hubster and I were able to experience the animals without our minions. Yes, the two of us were on a well needed mini vacation to rest, recharge and ready ourselves for what <span style="background-color: white;">ever God has in store for us. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Senior photo. Can you say "Braces?"</td></tr>
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Actually we probably wouldn't have made the trip if I hadn't paid for the nonrefundable hotel rate. I felt a tad bit guilty leaving just as the first week of school was wrapping up. The fact that Allie's 11th birthday was the actual day of the reunion didn't relieve my mom stress any either. Thankfully, Eric and Emily are more than capable of taking care of their younger siblings. Emily is one incredible big sister too. She made it her goal for Allie's big day to be something special. So I pushed the guilt aside and, with the much needed support of the Hubster, made the trip to relive those awkward days of high school.</div>
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The experience, though, really began inside of my closet. The outfit choices seemed so limited as I stared at the rainbow that is my wardrobe. To relieve my mind I began to recite this mantra "We are ALL almost 50. We are ALL almost 50." I tried to stalk some old classmate Facebook pages to reassure myself that mine was not the only post-birth, nonathletic, bread loving body that would be in attendance. I asked what to expect the attire of the main event would be. Then I came to the realization, there are only two of us going, I can pack what ever I want. So I did. I made sure the outfits would be ones my comfort level would be high in while camouflaging a few less flattering traits I carry around 24/7. Around midnight my head was hitting my pillow awaiting the 4AM alarm to sound for our 8 to 9 hour drive.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo booth fun with the Hubster!</td></tr>
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We drove and my anxieties arose periodically. Those feelings of meeting new people whom knew of me at a time that was not my best. A couple of my core group would be attending but I was the only one going for all three events. A new message was playing over and over in my mind. "They aren't the same as they were in school." "Thirty years tends to mature people." "Don't put my own insecurities on others." I needed to assume the best. Unfortunately, my mind was listing toward preparing for the worst.</div>
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Walking in to the almost historic restaurant / bar I had done my best to appear like I belonged there. Looking around, I did not recognize a single soul. The stools were filled with many patrons but how was I to know which ones had graduated from SMHS in 1984? Honestly, the thought of leaving was forefront in my mind. Then we spotted them, four people looking at others in the same manner I had been. Sneaking a peak at their faces, I had NO IDEA who in the world they were. Then, I heard it, ".....class of '84?" I found some courage and spoke to them.</div>
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We introduced ourselves. It was the men I had walked the halls of my Alma mater with for years. After we revealed our identities the veil began to lift. Though not people I hung out with, I certainly had classes with each. Their wives were sweet and talk of an eight hour drive soon flowed into family and career choices. A few more classmates showed up and then more. Before I knew it the poor wait staff was losing dinner tables to those there for drinks and appetizers. I have to admit I mistook a fellow Royal for someone else. Commenting on his amazing trumpet skills. Oops, right first name, wrong last. Oh well chalk that one up to experience. I did love the way he laughed, it warmed my heart. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXuLUYQfvc6xQGQWq7PoFVrKy1BddU07zP2wfbsD5NAunfOD85NN-6dVyeMZq2sc3dmICsSVGEdWU-5coZz76llptENd9C-ELl2whEk0DOPNDgg4iacONHHcoBlhzMYAD7nzdMNsXjoOM/s1600/Royal+Pep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXuLUYQfvc6xQGQWq7PoFVrKy1BddU07zP2wfbsD5NAunfOD85NN-6dVyeMZq2sc3dmICsSVGEdWU-5coZz76llptENd9C-ELl2whEk0DOPNDgg4iacONHHcoBlhzMYAD7nzdMNsXjoOM/s1600/Royal+Pep.jpg" height="320" width="274" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second from the left, that's me!</td></tr>
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A star football player came up and introductions were had. I don't think he ever spoke two words to me 30 some years ago but this was pleasant. Then he mentioned seeing my family on Facebook. "How many kids do you have?" was soon asked. Talk about a conversation starter. The mention of parenting six children seems to take people aback. Following up with foster care, adoptions and Down syndrome, their jaws almost hit the floor. All of a sudden the man I would have never thought of carrying on a conversation with was all ears. He mentions overseeing the local CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocate) program as well as his appreciation of what foster families need to experience to be successful. I was blessed by his attentiveness. I do believe he used the word "halo" a couple of times also.</div>
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That night a few of my classmates recognized me, I saw a few appear to say "Who is she?" A few of them approached me and I approached a few of them. I was even able to use what little ASL I have gleaned from my years with "Signing Time." From locals to those from out of state, we all began to reintroduce ourselves. Soon, our eight and a half hour drive on four hours of sleep began to take it's toll. We finished our sodas and said goodbye until tomorrow. First event down and it wasn't that painful.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5faGiNFOoLuR2H7DNEEqNtSq3H4dhoxPYYs-5fKju83Ar-hwLVwl23xARQHzXibI0m97VlKhOrUW9PYhevststGHY4-l2uJS7r1s7LdsCM_EbEe259At8wkjLLyVakOAbcmu4YWDR-kH/s1600/James+n+Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5faGiNFOoLuR2H7DNEEqNtSq3H4dhoxPYYs-5fKju83Ar-hwLVwl23xARQHzXibI0m97VlKhOrUW9PYhevststGHY4-l2uJS7r1s7LdsCM_EbEe259At8wkjLLyVakOAbcmu4YWDR-kH/s1600/James+n+Me.jpg" height="320" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not so suave but he sure makes me laugh!</td></tr>
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The next night was the big event. The key words for this evening were "Taco Bar" that screams jeans to me. I put the dress and supportive undergarments to the side and pulled out the "tall" jeans to go with my heels. As we were getting ready the Hubster and I replayed our morning. We were driving down the main drag, contemplating the morning meal location when the phone rang. Answering it over the rental car's sound system the voice of a dear friend resonated from the speakers. He had driven in with his wife and child from Vegas. Remembering him more as the lovable comedian than the suave, international spy he is named after, I was eager to visit. He told us where they were waiting to have breakfast and the old Cindy appeared. "We should eat with you guys!" came out of my mouth instead of the polite, "Hey, would you mind if we joined you?" Soon the five of us were sitting around the table the laughter slowly but surely emerging from our group. Then the memories and the "have you heard froms" began. The plan was formed to all go to the zoo, disguising his daughter as a Schulze for the day so we could take a little more advantage of our zoo membership. The old friendship became more and more comfortable. Animals, memories and jokes filled our conversation. We moved to another location and enjoyed our loved ones' experiencing what we had lived many times throughout our early lives. This is what I was looking forward to, uniting seasons of my life.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FrfXGWvJDfZqvylgqNBsldrraP1vTtlCNmN-3WGddEAI28WR3NCm5kROeDuwWB3R7ZjQxhdP4NZ3KhjqTz1MTbJH0I7Nw2DYrnscviRcQLZIhpnQgLwevxj3NkRoOiond6hFfoQ0rfAC/s1600/Howie+Fun+Pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FrfXGWvJDfZqvylgqNBsldrraP1vTtlCNmN-3WGddEAI28WR3NCm5kROeDuwWB3R7ZjQxhdP4NZ3KhjqTz1MTbJH0I7Nw2DYrnscviRcQLZIhpnQgLwevxj3NkRoOiond6hFfoQ0rfAC/s1600/Howie+Fun+Pic.jpg" height="640" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friends put up with me!</td></tr>
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Anxiety was only lingering when it came to arriving at the evening's venue. The Hubster, loaded down with my sophomore, junior and senior yearbooks. (<i>class of "84 never had the "freshman"experience as we came in as sophomores and brought an entire freshman class with us</i>) Our hostess for the weekend was amazing and so sweet. She helped me feel more and more comfortable every time I saw her. I have to admit, her encouraging others to read this blog brought on some confidence I hadn't packed at home. Another old friend appeared like a cozy blanket. With sodas in hand, the three of us appropriated an outside picnic table shrouded in scarlet red. Life's joys and sorrows were shared as we spent a short amount of time together. Unfortunately, he had to leave early due to health reasons. That left the Hubster and I to venture out. The yearbooks helped and boy were they popular. My "other half" found someone to discuss cars and racing with so I took that as a cue to head out on my own. Tonight, we all had much needed name tags fastened onto our chests. (<i>It was entertaining to watch people stare at the Hubster's and try to remember him</i>) The newest phrases "I remember you", "You haven't changed." (<i>ha ha</i>) and "I would have totally recognized you!" were music to my ears. The fears had dissipated and memories abounded. Watching future stories unfold made me laugh. The best part for me was getting to share our amazing family experience and encourage a couple of new friends in their amazing family. We headed back to the hotel after the Hubster witnessed a lady swinging around a pole resulting in a classmate's beverage laying on the dance floor void of it's contents. By that time the eagerness to join in on the next day's BBQ had set in.</div>
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The next morning consisted of a walk on a beach I spent much of my childhood on, breakfast with old friends, exploring the art vendors along a popular walk, and driving through neighborhoods I hadn't seen in decades. Our sweet weekend ended with a casual BBQ, more ASL and more friends.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL48L4ZqBSu9PVS2uVNBbUVgcUB0CvIbAGSO_VryL4Aj1AV6RS-4OmjDr61EqBpXjGgp98OpJbQ0hYIXmYHV_QlqvCPCYX07iyp8KxKkMbK7H0sHngE7WL4yubCZXrtpqmJESYl9qX6mHX/s1600/Harry+n+Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL48L4ZqBSu9PVS2uVNBbUVgcUB0CvIbAGSO_VryL4Aj1AV6RS-4OmjDr61EqBpXjGgp98OpJbQ0hYIXmYHV_QlqvCPCYX07iyp8KxKkMbK7H0sHngE7WL4yubCZXrtpqmJESYl9qX6mHX/s1600/Harry+n+Me.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making more memories!</td></tr>
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That brings me back to this moment. As I am typing away, hoping I don't lose everything due to my lack of Internet, tears stream down my cheeks. I spent most of the drive reflecting on what God was doing in my heart. The emotions were confusing me. Why now? I had enjoyed high school for the most part. Why would seeing these people cause such intense feelings? Sure there were those who didn't even look my way. Sure, one or two cut the conversation short finding various reasons to walk away. I realize now, it had nothing to do with who I am and everything to do with who they are. No, it was the much needed affirmation from those who inhabited a very vulnerable time in my life that brought this reaction. Those who saw something in this mom-of-six that interested them. Knowing it isn't the college degree, the labels on my clothes, the places we go, nor the things we own that make my life valuable to others. It is what I do with what my Lord has given me. He has given me children. I am a mom. A mom who doesn't fit into those size fives anymore. A mom who feels anguish over missing a birthday. A mom who needed this weekend to reflect on what is my life and the miracles that result.<br />
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Maybe at our 35th I will have another opportunity to explore the lives of those who were more distant. Until then, hopes of flourishing friendships, various visitors, and promising posts are beginning to fill my heart. <br />
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-17214571641948908642014-06-23T07:42:00.000-07:002014-06-23T09:38:18.815-07:00A Close Call!The broken bone... or not?<br />
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We had a concern, was it fractured or sprained? In all of our 18 years of parenting, this experience had yet to cross our paths. Sure, we have had our fair share of bumps and bruises. Sure, we have had a child or two whom have had to be on the receiving end of a needle and sutures. The best was when one boy, at 18 months, decided to stick his finger in the sprocket of an exercise bicycle while his sister was peddling it. Our oldest even seemed to approach any church youth event as a challenge to come home with some type of injury. Now, even as a "legal" adult, that objective still remains. Up until this point, though, we had never waited upon the return of an x-ray and a doctor to interpret it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqaeSz50ZgpC82qbljlHaOb4w-h3YP-xM2IECoNcdzyuZTq_zi86NPDFr5eFVUxoWP5OnLoZBZ71udLT2_hBsFAguG5dytf02AblCSn6QYr1CDRd9rljMVa4cle_abY472Rw2hTzxcA7x/s1600/2014-06-13+07.23.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqaeSz50ZgpC82qbljlHaOb4w-h3YP-xM2IECoNcdzyuZTq_zi86NPDFr5eFVUxoWP5OnLoZBZ71udLT2_hBsFAguG5dytf02AblCSn6QYr1CDRd9rljMVa4cle_abY472Rw2hTzxcA7x/s1600/2014-06-13+07.23.25.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The siblings involved (Joe is not that tall)</td></tr>
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During this short stint of waiting, I began to ponder the result of my son's evening game of tag in the church parking lot with his junior high youth group, his tumble down the hill and his nonchalant, tough guy attitude that resulted. Well, that's one less hand for chores and complaints from others whom have to pick up the slack. I was already hearing the whining while the rest of the fam was enjoying our local pool, it is June in Arizona don't you know? Thank goodness we are on summer break, we have time for his writing hand to heal before schoolwork reoccurs. Oh man, and then there are the showers! Who is going to deal with that?<br />
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As I was contemplating the effects at home of a child in a cast, a small miracle materialized. My ears weren't fooling me when they heard, "May I help you?" float effortlessly out of my middle girls lips as her older brother struggled with the dishes. "I'll tie your shoes for you!" said my youngest son who has an aversion to footwear with laces. These three, whom seem to battle continually, were willing to serve one another! I began looking forward to the possibility of "plaster" encompassing their brother's wrist. The revelation of the lesson that was on the cusp of understanding in my children's hearts, to serve and to be served graciously, excited me. The bliss I was about to experience as a mom enticed me! </div>
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Then the much anticipated phone call rang through. What? A bad sprain? Ice it 20 minutes twice a day? Oh the whining and complaining that will be my life!!!</div>
<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-15758100227181305392014-05-21T08:00:00.000-07:002014-05-21T08:00:05.823-07:00An Open Letter of Thankfulness to the Teachers Whom Have Touched Our Lives<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXqInq9lA-ncl_2ylbWCGXhEsYCHBbmRdGM0IS2NqsK7lNW3fZxHHaAX5kIGjDtNoiKSryhfy6tPh2ZIHlLo0QyOzQwpC2gizZu42wV5EYI6CQmxmHx3mJmZ3tdpXkwFlhJvCXrfHFLw4/s1600/2013-08-05+06.56.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXqInq9lA-ncl_2ylbWCGXhEsYCHBbmRdGM0IS2NqsK7lNW3fZxHHaAX5kIGjDtNoiKSryhfy6tPh2ZIHlLo0QyOzQwpC2gizZu42wV5EYI6CQmxmHx3mJmZ3tdpXkwFlhJvCXrfHFLw4/s1600/2013-08-05+06.56.22.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1st Day of School</td></tr>
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Here I am, the end of yet another school year. I have done this thirteen times now and each year seems to become shorter the more I experience my children growing. This year, though, is different. It differs in a few ways. This year was the first that all six of my kids were sitting in a classroom funded by taxpayer dollars. We spanned kindergarten through senior in high school with quite a few grades in between. This year would be the last for Eric. Graduating in just a few days, he will be venturing into the university world in the fall. This year would be my last (I think) year in kindergarten and all of the firsts that encompass it. This year, would be the thirteenth and final year spent at our little charter school that we have watched grow during our tenure. You see, next year, my final four children will be moving on to an education under a different roof.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kindergarten here we come!</td></tr>
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As I ponder the letter I need to write to our long time principal for the reasons we are making this change, my heart settles on the people who have altered not only my children's lives but the Hubster's and my lives also. How do I tell them how much they mean to me. I wanted to write a personal note to each and every one of them but, after the time we have spent under their roof, we are talking a lot of letters and not enough time to put my heart into each one. So, here I am, writing, what I hope will be received as a heart felt note filled with appreciation and memories.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To you, the teacher of my child,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
I am sure you have heard this quote from me, "We believe that you are our partner in parenting." During the school year, it is you who has the attention of my child for the majority of their day. It is you who has the opportunity to mold my child in a way few do. It is you who revels in my child's success as well as laments in their failures. Over the years each of you has touched our family in your own unique way. That is why this letter is so painful to write. You see, this year will be the final year our family graces your hallways. I want you to know our departure has nothing to do with you nor the effort you have applied to my family. The years spent under your tutelage is priceless and greatly appreciated. No, the motivation for our departure has absolutely nothing to do with the love you have poured out upon my children.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8EVzQo3Igv9Q_YYHvpyiKSWu7ceBHQk5EdxWxWS7looFwoGXXEuPiKOeX1E9U5f_KaL873HHk-VgXBqq_sLY0an8VFbZpepENGJ7eOGle44I8LMlF2LAlDNwlBWR8MgcR1BmRCbbGmmJ/s1600/2012-05-06+15.19.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8EVzQo3Igv9Q_YYHvpyiKSWu7ceBHQk5EdxWxWS7looFwoGXXEuPiKOeX1E9U5f_KaL873HHk-VgXBqq_sLY0an8VFbZpepENGJ7eOGle44I8LMlF2LAlDNwlBWR8MgcR1BmRCbbGmmJ/s1600/2012-05-06+15.19.18.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Science Fair Projects are all about family</td></tr>
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So, I want to say "thank you". Thank you for the many years of devotion to making parts of my family successful, thus strengthening the rest of it. Thank you for the long hours of questions without answers and answers without questions. Thank you for the hours of personal time you have dedicated to my child. Thank you for the noses wiped, tears dried and scrapes cleaned. Thank you for an ear that listens to not only my child but to me. I know I get excited about things and, at times, forget you have thirty little minions to keep an eye on. I don't think you know just how important your support is to me. Over the years, I have shed tears upon your shoulder and I thank you for your compassion.<br />
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Most of all, I want to thank you for the memories...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQA6qFYzFdxy8h2-nCZqByhATEtLkUP07BMY-GrKr-sOq7v9AgFNVKA209e5QzXw4ITa_grt7KTjxUntqo4XdZtEjubLRffwcdfBH-MKAsXaj_PH1GEVwQkYAEB_soi8WwQSYVgPHbnc9q/s1600/2014-03-03+07.01.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQA6qFYzFdxy8h2-nCZqByhATEtLkUP07BMY-GrKr-sOq7v9AgFNVKA209e5QzXw4ITa_grt7KTjxUntqo4XdZtEjubLRffwcdfBH-MKAsXaj_PH1GEVwQkYAEB_soi8WwQSYVgPHbnc9q/s1600/2014-03-03+07.01.56.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sneetches, some with stars and some with none</td></tr>
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The day I handed my crying first born over to you on his first day of kindergarten. Tears streamed down my face as the Hubster and I walked through the parking lot to our car, all along my little girl skipped singing, "Next year I get to go to school!" prompting more tears.<br />
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Teaming up with me to cure my little socialite of the need to chat during class.<br />
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Sticking with our family for 4 years, including summers, and still loving us.<br />
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Taking my 2 1/2 year old, strong willed, child number 5 and doing the potty training for me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuS3unh1HzpUkBnF8PR972jakCuOmErz4dQgqF-UDYdHy7DDv-oojLKOcFzgkwELe7jAMHuVtGo-3Hz82uIUqPIKAmzgZ9Gz133G4d64djGm_VkFFcfk33TdXJhBItOea5C38CUpSc3Qv7/s1600/2014-05-19+17.59.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuS3unh1HzpUkBnF8PR972jakCuOmErz4dQgqF-UDYdHy7DDv-oojLKOcFzgkwELe7jAMHuVtGo-3Hz82uIUqPIKAmzgZ9Gz133G4d64djGm_VkFFcfk33TdXJhBItOea5C38CUpSc3Qv7/s1600/2014-05-19+17.59.44.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Graduate!</td></tr>
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Allowing me to sit in class all day and make dinner menus for weeks to come, while my 13 year old swears I am staring at the back of his head.<br />
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Loving on my kindergartner even when she has hidden your cell phone in the tank behind the toilet.<br />
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Letting our very big family take over your classroom on "Book Night" and smiling all the way through.<br />
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"Encouraging" our picky eater to try everything on her lunch plate. (even if she cried)<br />
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Telling me of the time one of our most challenging children was doing classwork and began, quietly singing "The Rainbow Connection" while one by one his classmates joined in.<br />
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Enjoying my loud, boisterous, busy, boy who has no sense of personal space and still being steadfast in your sweet gentle nature.<br />
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Granting my young teen daughter the opportunity to assist in the "planning" of your wedding to keep her busy while her siblings were in Homework Club.<br />
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Embracing my most precious of children and brushing up on your American Sign Language to do so.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5EoFRRFgmzO_oY22zwZyHoCN9qHgXTa0lr3o4d8YqDrezd3fbUHkZb42oumcRQFetPwBUquLyJ4fc8UbMKzW7AlFi8MPNVTLwyPHJraj83rJGXPtFDpD1LHH4Wj0akpKqP0MBO7_ZjVF/s1600/2014-03-21+08.33.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5EoFRRFgmzO_oY22zwZyHoCN9qHgXTa0lr3o4d8YqDrezd3fbUHkZb42oumcRQFetPwBUquLyJ4fc8UbMKzW7AlFi8MPNVTLwyPHJraj83rJGXPtFDpD1LHH4Wj0akpKqP0MBO7_ZjVF/s1600/2014-03-21+08.33.20.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Student of the week shows off her bronze medal</td></tr>
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There are so many more I could write about and so many more that I will remember later. Some moments will be spoken of at graduations and weddings. Some will simply bring a tear to my eye. One thing is for sure, without you, none of these precious gifts would be part of our family's history. With out you, our family would not be the same.<br />
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Please know that even though our time with you is drawing to an end, you will always, always be held dear to our hearts.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8IfGHId_fOYMaRCGbldoEXAcmyKXa8DWHevm8MO8SygC0eU8ltBTWKQn0Xwb_4hWVdkX2QksoOOCA5FPQdc4kBbXEMjkrlVFKJ1iRt8SfeHNa3AiPWUugzqYEykoQUcoacsE4E3DJD3tL/s1600/2014-03-20+08.57.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8IfGHId_fOYMaRCGbldoEXAcmyKXa8DWHevm8MO8SygC0eU8ltBTWKQn0Xwb_4hWVdkX2QksoOOCA5FPQdc4kBbXEMjkrlVFKJ1iRt8SfeHNa3AiPWUugzqYEykoQUcoacsE4E3DJD3tL/s1600/2014-03-20+08.57.56.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and one of your students</td></tr>
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With much love and respect,<br />
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The mother of your student.<br />
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<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-46001655239408941102014-05-15T04:00:00.000-07:002014-05-16T06:03:56.496-07:00Therapy Thursday: Mirror, mirror on the ????<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIMhnhvwb3im2mfTaCwfN9-dPY9vsr0CWRRho3h-bxVh__W1-XW7WR24AuFkCw3Nt299TmeKf8I0gYBgZSZ0WZU_O0sL_plIFzwgMbVwyu57UmtNTkpHkAZHCM2TGtJ_Wnk4kOlqwDK47G/s1600/2012-04-29+09.44.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIMhnhvwb3im2mfTaCwfN9-dPY9vsr0CWRRho3h-bxVh__W1-XW7WR24AuFkCw3Nt299TmeKf8I0gYBgZSZ0WZU_O0sL_plIFzwgMbVwyu57UmtNTkpHkAZHCM2TGtJ_Wnk4kOlqwDK47G/s320/2012-04-29+09.44.15.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Needs to be on her knees.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">I don't know about yours</span></b>, but my kids, don't always want to do as they are told. I know, I know, my kids disobey me? As shocking as it sounds, at any time of the day you can probably find one of my brood of six relishing in rebellion. Whether it is wake-up time, get-ready-for-school time, get-in-in-the-car time, homework time, chore time, meal time, bed time, or any time in between, you can be sure a resistance is brewing. Therapy time is when our youngest, chromosomally gifted, girl will most definitely be displaying her defiance. Finding ways to afford her some independence and yet still get the job done is one of the most imposing facets of my masterpiece called "parenting".</div>
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Just because Jillie has an overabundance in the DNA department doesn't mean she is lacking in intelligence. In fact, her sibling she seems to be following intellectually is her 18 year old brother who has been accepted to one of the sought after colleges to study aeronautical engineering. He was also a very independent thinker at her age. Some days, making her do therapy is just a big, frustrating waste of time. So, I need to be creative when her therapist "friends" come for a visit.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifeNxsu9X_ERQyJkJdV_CJ4t9EbnIeyZo8QqDA27m7qQQUIMw7UmRQQ5GNOR64LVyzTzARNSogjXKBY5T-h6Av72svrMuMUklIJpisqc4uV6pgde4jsgzWe8GyTTFnckB3bE8JD8IJhEbA/s1600/Something+shiney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifeNxsu9X_ERQyJkJdV_CJ4t9EbnIeyZo8QqDA27m7qQQUIMw7UmRQQ5GNOR64LVyzTzARNSogjXKBY5T-h6Av72svrMuMUklIJpisqc4uV6pgde4jsgzWe8GyTTFnckB3bE8JD8IJhEbA/s1600/Something+shiney.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a>Now, for a while there, Jillie would not speak to her speech therapist. Her physical therapist was a different story though. We often joked about combining the two. Before we had to result to that solution we discovered her reflection. Actually, we discovered that she had discovered her reflection and would sign and speak to it whenever it was available. She found her image everywhere, mirrors, windows, refrigerators, bathtub faucets (as well as that little round piece right below), taillights and, even pizza cutters. So, I took her infatuation for her girlish good looks and applied it to her speech. Thus, I bought a full length mirror and mounted it upon the wall just above the baseboards. That way she could get some good tummy time also. As she grew I raised the mirror. When she was learning to stand, I raised the mirror. She loved that mirror so much we were able to take care of physical therapy at the same time.</div>
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Years have passed since she first detected her likeness, yet the attraction is still irresistable. As we were getting ready for bed in our hotel room this past weekend, she discovered the mirrored closet door. After a few pirouettes, karate kicks, and funky dance moves we were able to finally turn out the lights and turn in for the night.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUV5A4VkKDe1ILD4Cp0YQxoxYcU-6KmeYs5QgVdEfoie0p-HIkVW2FyiD5vzZElSr_2TJS3ynlG7CqSowsUIMCRgyrMpUu7Ue-V2Tqb5RR8R0tfbaKSHRCq8iehDG3SjM4qDTy4mhS3Fb/s1600/2012-04-29+09.46.04+%25282%2529.mp4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUV5A4VkKDe1ILD4Cp0YQxoxYcU-6KmeYs5QgVdEfoie0p-HIkVW2FyiD5vzZElSr_2TJS3ynlG7CqSowsUIMCRgyrMpUu7Ue-V2Tqb5RR8R0tfbaKSHRCq8iehDG3SjM4qDTy4mhS3Fb/s1600/2012-04-29+09.46.04+%25282%2529.mp4" height="223" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Singing and Signing away<br /></td></tr>
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<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-66997994951636029122014-05-11T05:48:00.001-07:002014-05-11T19:26:08.004-07:00How do you measure success?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WYY23VOBpOOpLnsJzgQCcn4idYO9AgrHgrNG6v2IlZQsndFrhnlgcGuFbJHb1NjxL3fzPpZKVRb2w8gKV-R3hqPxdG6PMWauGw2B3G7nnsBgqKSnreWff8eVtmpjGs2FZU_HW5eCvngM/s1600/2014-05-09+15.33.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WYY23VOBpOOpLnsJzgQCcn4idYO9AgrHgrNG6v2IlZQsndFrhnlgcGuFbJHb1NjxL3fzPpZKVRb2w8gKV-R3hqPxdG6PMWauGw2B3G7nnsBgqKSnreWff8eVtmpjGs2FZU_HW5eCvngM/s1600/2014-05-09+15.33.38.jpg" height="321" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amazingly, Awesome Travelers</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Here I am</b></span><span style="font-size: large;">, about two thirds of my way to our 12 hour destination, riding in the "Party Van" complete with 12 seat belts and hand crank window winders. The Hubster and I are accompanied by our four youngest as well as a trailer full of racing, rowing shells (boats). We hit the road at 3:30 this morning when it was so dark in my hometown that the stars were beaming. As we belted the children in, it was difficult not to feel a little sorry for myself because the duration of time my head rested on my pillow was only about three hours. Why so late to bed? We had to finish packing after returning from the Academic Award ceremony at the biggles high school. There our oldest was decorated with tassels, sashes and cords because of his achievements throughout his four year tenure. The Hubster and I were rewarded by receiving a plaque as a result of our contributions. Don't be mistaken, this was not due to us providing our 200 student charter school with some financial windfall. No, it was because of the time we have spent, as a family making sure the school's rowing crew was operational. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPAMqO1zmKOX0-EIGZE1ex03kTAmbbGqUxoF1e2oxG15cbycyJWOG3ITv3yNsCHpsSdQOLbXXi6AQcUydsaKPmrdtagFTth1DC8OVu_fcg_7BkUAtBfLlpAfIbQtjf0PvZnVU4cJ2tyLb/s1600/Eric+Cum+Laude.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPAMqO1zmKOX0-EIGZE1ex03kTAmbbGqUxoF1e2oxG15cbycyJWOG3ITv3yNsCHpsSdQOLbXXi6AQcUydsaKPmrdtagFTth1DC8OVu_fcg_7BkUAtBfLlpAfIbQtjf0PvZnVU4cJ2tyLb/s1600/Eric+Cum+Laude.jpg" height="400" width="346" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Sitting on the metal bleachers, my mind wandered as I wondered, "How do I measure success?" Is it in the trophies and gifts on the wall from those whom are appreciative of our efforts? Is it in the in the accolades of others whom look at our family and ponder "Just how do they do it?" Is it in a paycheck we receive (if you knew what we live off of the answer to that question would be obvious) or possessions we own, or people we know? As much as these things are all well and good, the </span>Hubster<span style="font-size: large;"> and I base our success upon what we do with what God has given us. Whether it is children, chores, change or championships our goal is to do our best with what the Lord has provided. </span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0w0Jc7UMHvHcXxLuiIzd73X_aTd9h3jFFaqGP6WwDf0Bz5gwkpyidxYlxrX2u3zx1IG-ArQmqNNe5ER9amYtE35WaTOvmM93Oh5TSZB-T0ObLmhpL-TJ13XjdMyE5Ud1XpyeKSRP7Ew5Z/s1600/999413_10201296117983792_1764306801_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0w0Jc7UMHvHcXxLuiIzd73X_aTd9h3jFFaqGP6WwDf0Bz5gwkpyidxYlxrX2u3zx1IG-ArQmqNNe5ER9amYtE35WaTOvmM93Oh5TSZB-T0ObLmhpL-TJ13XjdMyE5Ud1XpyeKSRP7Ew5Z/s320/999413_10201296117983792_1764306801_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;">Our best often consists of late nights comforting friends, confronting people on behalf of a child, spending time listening to the youth both inside and outside of our home encouraging them to rise to the occasion. It consists of wiping noses as well as bottoms, tying shoes and hair. It means last minute schedule changes and unexpected visitors, driving friends home as well as dropping kids off. Whether it is cold dinners or hot, cold toes or hot foreheads, at any moment we are to be shining as best as possible. What we don't realize while in the midst of the job entrusted to us, is others are watching. Our children's friends, coworkers and even strangers are able to observe our every move. It is then that our success shines for us. All too often it is our failures can make us look dim. It is then, though, that God, if we allow, takes the difficult and turns it into the glorious.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now I have about an hour left of my journey and, once again, I have attempted to put forth my best. I have missed blogging so much these past few months but my Lord has given me the subjects of many future posts. I leave you, today, with one final thought.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>"Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come."</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Proverbs 31:25</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuS3XkstlU9vcjnGt15sMmkoh23Mjc6NdhILxiT4sJQIWrr9-LsXB9-SAMAbkm8awBDBAkxdLfdxnkX_YuZnAkYhSz1Gj7fNYXZxpJNnWKv62PtAA1py0ovaO9u4eLkiMA69QOuBvLJRIi/s1600/IMG_20140510_103652_010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuS3XkstlU9vcjnGt15sMmkoh23Mjc6NdhILxiT4sJQIWrr9-LsXB9-SAMAbkm8awBDBAkxdLfdxnkX_YuZnAkYhSz1Gj7fNYXZxpJNnWKv62PtAA1py0ovaO9u4eLkiMA69QOuBvLJRIi/s1600/IMG_20140510_103652_010.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10202917069762078&l=2094923802605925361" target="_blank">My Biggles getting set to row together for one last time! </a> (sniff, sniff)</td></tr>
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<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-84313707038289498302014-01-21T08:35:00.000-08:002014-01-21T08:59:04.324-08:00Tailor Made<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6u-wRNA8ZRb-LfWwscYAFksjSSDzOnTdkGReZ6VgLtnvduD1zwkI5IxccB36sc5l3thjqir4OtwPDDetXkZIzHGaAwmPXKjZe2CoMzov_KsfFxshU7rSQV-0jVnre92CV09h0bsTHlryZ/s1600/Random+Schulzes+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6u-wRNA8ZRb-LfWwscYAFksjSSDzOnTdkGReZ6VgLtnvduD1zwkI5IxccB36sc5l3thjqir4OtwPDDetXkZIzHGaAwmPXKjZe2CoMzov_KsfFxshU7rSQV-0jVnre92CV09h0bsTHlryZ/s1600/Random+Schulzes+2013.jpg" height="352" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of the AMAZING photos are by the Beautiful Brooke of <a href="http://www.brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>I don't know about you</b></span><span style="font-size: large;"> but the most difficult parenting skill to learn for me is consistency. I am not necessarily aiming to make everything fair or even for each child, nor do I always respond to an action with the same reaction. What I do mean is consistently providing for each child what he or she needs at the time. That could range from standing outside, in 32 degree weather, making sure those laps being run up and down the street are finished appropriately, to stopping cooking dinner for a family of eight, and kneeling down to explain for the 20th time that she will be eating with in the hour, so a snack is not a wise choice right now. Meeting a child where they are at and personalizing our parenting according to the specific situation and need is way easier said than done. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I am sure you have figured out by now, the Hubster and I have had a wide array of parenting experiences. We have children who would oppose correction with every fiber of their beings, children who quake in their shoes when a voice is raised slightly, and quite a variety in between. Within our parental hearts and minds, being consistent is often confronted with <b>guilt</b>, <b>impatience</b>, as well as <b>exhaustion</b>. Too often, I try to avoid the effort it takes to do the job right the first time, only to pay for it in the end. (Ironically, I have had that talk with quite a few of my kiddos, some more recently and frequently than others) So far, five out of my six kids have brought me to tears because of my fatigue due to the repetition and tenaciousness of a situation with them. The reluctance to follow through with consequences such as returning gifts or canceling birthday parties hinders many opportunities to train our children. I can't count how many times I have witnessed an infraction that I "didn't have the time" to deal with, only to be presented, sooner than later, with another opportunity to follow through and sharpen my parenting skills. This time though, I have to take on the previous groundwork my lack of effort had inadvertently laid. Still, it is the Hubster's and my job to do what we signed up for, raise<b> responsible</b>, <b>respectful</b>, and <b>reachable</b> children.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJlbCjNWGLqtxQjIEi_vNA1F8Bg5VK6jn8LnKSwSW6c3mMV3vgPnfCVjPyHYLgE53d5y-vTYQMIVNZOakwQladhsZJ7AbyuIaTc1VK55nbs20tKruWuy-mJxhF9CWUgSnNgzP2iS_Ui_x/s1600/Schulze+Girls+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJlbCjNWGLqtxQjIEi_vNA1F8Bg5VK6jn8LnKSwSW6c3mMV3vgPnfCVjPyHYLgE53d5y-vTYQMIVNZOakwQladhsZJ7AbyuIaTc1VK55nbs20tKruWuy-mJxhF9CWUgSnNgzP2iS_Ui_x/s1600/Schulze+Girls+2013.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Schulze Girls</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, how do we do it? To be honest, I am not fully sure myself. I do know we <b>depend a lot upon God's wisdom</b>, hoping we hear His Spirit speaking to our hearts. Our parenting consists a lot of fixing our mistakes and admitting we were misguided in our child rearing blunders. Our kids learn about humility, how to handle mistakes as well as apologies. Although, in certain situations, we need to stick to our guns no matter what. At the tender age of five we could have sworn that our first born child was on the road to law school. We often could be found succumbing to his logic, only to shake ourselves and remind us and him just who the parent was. Other children of ours are quite convincing with their untruths (OK, lies). Our solution was to present the consequence to all six siblings in hopes the true offender would fess up. One child in particular would stand her ground while her brothers and sisters joined her in the discipline du jour. Although, </span><span style="font-size: large;">Usually, the <b>peer pressure</b> helps the guilty party to cave. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Occasionally, we have had to switch gears and confront our child with the<b> blind faith</b> that what our <b>parental instincts</b> were telling us was true. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Many times, the Hubster and I are not on the same exact page in a certain discipline matter, that is when we use the "<b>fall back</b>" method. We usually move to neutral ground (our bedroom) and discuss our game plan. After some agreeing and conceding has been accomplished we move forward in what ever plan has been generated. We actually put this tactic into practice just a few hours ago. I loved that we listened to one another, called the child into our headquarters, listened to him, dismissed him, constructed our plan, called said child to return, and laid the prospective program out for him. No chaotic emotions at all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of my favorite tools is the "<b>self created discipline</b>". One child, in particular had this "making things bigger thing" mastered. For instance, trying to avert a massive breakdown, I instructed my son to go to his room, calm down, and then he could return to the rest of us. As he STOMPED to his room he was easily heard shouting, "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO BED WITHOUT DINNER!" To which I stated, "Hmmm, I hadn't thought of that. What a great idea!!! OK, when you are in your room put your jammies on. You will be going to bed soon after." Another of my children tried this tactic and realized, rather quickly, it wasn't for her.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgziudkgV7k0r_aW05j_gyXnXi9Q4_8gMM-Jns2N0rFSFc2EjODRQeDI5rOV74rMxpFE-t24x8LoeapOqBDNzc8zsSEhyWiaQhZpeF7_Uq_h35USRXjzpdfixqy-KC-vixgcKWC925fB0/s1600/Boys+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgziudkgV7k0r_aW05j_gyXnXi9Q4_8gMM-Jns2N0rFSFc2EjODRQeDI5rOV74rMxpFE-t24x8LoeapOqBDNzc8zsSEhyWiaQhZpeF7_Uq_h35USRXjzpdfixqy-KC-vixgcKWC925fB0/s1600/Boys+2013.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Schulze Boys</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The old, "Peanut butter sandwich and water" treatment works for three of our kids, but not for the other three. <b>I don't cook for people who are disrespectful to me </b>so, someone else makes the necessary meal. For half of my kids missing out on the regular meal is detrimental. My oldest daughter would prefer that fare more often than not. Her big brother is allergic, and her youngest sister could care less. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Singing, hugs, hands on noses, foreheads on walls, holding hands, happy hats, sitting in on classes, random dancing, chores, writing, exercise, repetition, missing out, are all items we use to <b>encourage</b> our children to do the right thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Preventative maintenance</b>, though, tends to help all of the above be fewer and farther between. Taking the time to listen to, snuggle with, and attend to my child minimizes his or her demand upon me and/or the Hubster. Nightly dinners around our table are imperative. We catch up on each other's days, reminisce, plan and bond. Just by eating meals together we express how important our kids' thoughts and ideas are to us. The kiddos' individuality blossoms around the table. I don't know of a better place to get to know your family let alone anyone else.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">With all of our strengths and weaknesses, successes and mistakes, similarities and differences, i</span><span style="font-size: large;">t just goes to show parenting is not a "one size fits all" venture. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Good parenting needs to be "tailor made".</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Cdiv%20id=%22fb-root%22%3E%3C/div%3E%20%3Cscript%3E(function(d,%20s,%20id)%20%7B%20var%20js,%20fjs%20=%20d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];%20if%20(d.getElementById(id))%20return;%20js%20=%20d.createElement(s);%20js.id%20=%20id;%20js.src%20=%20%22//connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#xfbml=1"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));</script> <div class="fb-post" data-href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1399728447566" data-width="466"><div class="fb-xfbml-parse-ignore"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1399728447566">Post</a> by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/cindy.schulze">Cindy Callihan Schulze</a>.</div></div>" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank"><br /></a>
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<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-73942009559112216822013-11-26T09:35:00.000-08:002015-05-07T11:39:19.383-07:00Thankfulness<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGxrhR-QgIrHvmymdd4zUFGM9F9rMxFRrq6Jf2_X_U4UzuP003UaCgb_ukZBZNhM-58CkLDjjCJistCQCa1L0LPJtOnWL-yUMqlkNV5jKieXFzRUR3c1lkm2nk17GJhhaxvxWtxvYWraZg/s1600/1157710_546341372081892_34523849_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGxrhR-QgIrHvmymdd4zUFGM9F9rMxFRrq6Jf2_X_U4UzuP003UaCgb_ukZBZNhM-58CkLDjjCJistCQCa1L0LPJtOnWL-yUMqlkNV5jKieXFzRUR3c1lkm2nk17GJhhaxvxWtxvYWraZg/s400/1157710_546341372081892_34523849_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by the amazing <a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Here we go</span></b>, it's November and this Mom's hustling holiday season is in full swing. Our annual family photo session (with <a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a> of course) was amongst a last minute trip to California for a visit with Grandma, my brother-in-law's surprise 50th, Emily's 16th (complete with the <a href="http://west.jamtour.com/" target="_blank">Winter Jam</a> concert accompanied by some of her good friends), a school potluck x 4 classrooms (OK it was October 31st but close enough), haircuts x 8 (lovin' <a href="http://erasalonandspa.com/" target="_blank">Ms. Hannah</a>!), dentist visit x 2 (I missed and had to reschedule twice, thank you <a href="http://www.everykidsdentist.com/office/search?radius=10&address=86301" target="_blank">Dr. Bobby</a>!) a Jr. High Thanksgiving potluck, various stays at the 7th grade, a last minute trip to Phoenix toting girls for a <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/coxswain?s=t" target="_blank">coxswain</a> (the person that tells the rowers what to do and where to go) clinic, designing the 2013 Schulze Family Christmas card and having it printed (at <a href="http://www.costcophotocenter.com/Home" target="_blank">Costco</a>) before the coupon ran out that night. With all of this busyness, I have not had nor taken the time to truly contemplate what I am thankful for. I have to admit the rebel in me tends to steer clear of the daily Facebook thing. I do enjoy reading the gratitude of my friends and family though. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19V4KGc2zy3OmRiMPGRatd3wwyibx1a_Vduwjb7Ildhpass2fdr2nTj5VoPMoxPrsZaFn4qmUNRSaljjaYAyjxpySU-51bxodnvhFnmCca1E_2-snvAkYsykxTcTYpHqQjzs-7oqyBgPq/s1600/Kevin++Cindy+Scan_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19V4KGc2zy3OmRiMPGRatd3wwyibx1a_Vduwjb7Ildhpass2fdr2nTj5VoPMoxPrsZaFn4qmUNRSaljjaYAyjxpySU-51bxodnvhFnmCca1E_2-snvAkYsykxTcTYpHqQjzs-7oqyBgPq/s400/Kevin++Cindy+Scan_1.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our BIG Day 5.7.94</td></tr>
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With Thanksgiving literally two days away, it is probably time to magnify that grateful mindset of mine. I could come up with lists upon lists of who and what all I appreciate in my life but time is short and I have one specific item, event, condition that I am truly blessed by, <b>my marriage</b>. You see, as I have noted in a <a href="http://nevereasyalwaysgood.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-excitement-is-ride.html" target="_blank">previous post</a>, the Hubster and I are on the verge of 20 years of matrimony. It isn't, though, the longevity of our relationship that impresses me. I can't say this "China Anniversary" even represents "<a href="http://marriage.about.com/od/20thanniversary/p/20anniv.htm" target="_blank">the beautiful, elegant and delicate(ness) of our love for one another over the past 20 years."</a> Certainly the two decades have not been filled with bliss, quite the contrary has been the rule during some seasons of our union.<br />
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What I am thankful for is the road God walked us down, the mountains we traversed, the valleys we rested in. I am thankful for the lessons taught and learned, the battles fought and won, the fears experienced and overcome. I am thankful for the moments we yelled at each other and made it through. I am thankful for the countless tears shed that did not drown us. I am thankful for the discord, the dishonesty, and the disrespect we both took part in that never disrupted the <b>commitment</b> we have to one another. Have we liked each other constantly throughout our relationship? No. Have we known God had a purpose for each hardship we were to experience? Yes. Are we better off having engaged the fire together? Do I really have to answer this? Yes and yes. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oyjae6nL2C-K5V9oIYsRrOmIWYTQVhj9i5MzYger64OBTMxf_Cq_4nTXGFdOIAFWGuJywY1UHMLcZzZmP3sXRWbOmGJg61XeYae6bqMSrIViZkmEvqOGjixo32Aca_T81FQuHS-XXMkB/s1600/Kissing+Us2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oyjae6nL2C-K5V9oIYsRrOmIWYTQVhj9i5MzYger64OBTMxf_Cq_4nTXGFdOIAFWGuJywY1UHMLcZzZmP3sXRWbOmGJg61XeYae6bqMSrIViZkmEvqOGjixo32Aca_T81FQuHS-XXMkB/s320/Kissing+Us2.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(cropped from)<a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank"> Brooke Photography </a>again!</td></tr>
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Each trial has not only strengthened our marriage but has also laid a foundation for our children to build their future relationships upon. They have witnessed their parents go through the ugly to get to the beautiful. They have seen us lean upon our Lord as well as praise Him when times are difficult. They have experienced the results of a husband and wife clinging to promises made many years prior. They know that <b>trust</b> can be regained and that love prevails. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuecx4nJeIukJLoq-WXZMkm_Y-h96Y9Ar939CkqSWAHFDD4towvORwbXe6q6WYbtrnteqgjrBCLUQM_Ghmd2dPQMpMw0oGECnOHDAvCKkKFkDyDDcBP4nzRFyIr8Py4s7LkUzIpFG19_1q/s1600/3D+Us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuecx4nJeIukJLoq-WXZMkm_Y-h96Y9Ar939CkqSWAHFDD4towvORwbXe6q6WYbtrnteqgjrBCLUQM_Ghmd2dPQMpMw0oGECnOHDAvCKkKFkDyDDcBP4nzRFyIr8Py4s7LkUzIpFG19_1q/s400/3D+Us.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun times together.</td></tr>
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During one low point I was told deep within my soul that if I gave up on the Hubster he would never be the man God has intended him to be and he would never accomplish the tasks God has for him. Once I had truly done that, we were able to wade through his "stuff" as well as get some sort of control over it. What initially took me by surprise was, with his "stuff" hemmed in, my "stuff" became more visible. As uncomfortable as it was, I was able to see my faults and weaknesses. Then, together, we were and have been able to grow through <b>mistakes</b> I have made. I thank my Lord that Kevin, the Hubster, has never, not once, given up on me. The rewards received due to a marriage forged by trials and strengthened by God are the best gifts ever!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7d94Mz4rIWs_IxiLMS6Gret0wEFzL1cXX_OLc_ekubwm8ZqKZJnjk78Hv3RSkgNcQlmKWKnsnKe6XdvR7YkmidT0cTmzfQvk2ErN9mlZzWgkZgvbmUkFYy4zARQkcPssphAGZJR0GAlOQ/s1600/Blankie+Us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7d94Mz4rIWs_IxiLMS6Gret0wEFzL1cXX_OLc_ekubwm8ZqKZJnjk78Hv3RSkgNcQlmKWKnsnKe6XdvR7YkmidT0cTmzfQvk2ErN9mlZzWgkZgvbmUkFYy4zARQkcPssphAGZJR0GAlOQ/s400/Blankie+Us.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We LOVE<a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank"> Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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<b>What have I learned?</b> Other than the Hubster will stick with me through thick and thin, I have learned that I don't need to be in control. I have learned that I can trust his decisions, even if I think he is 100% wrong at the time. I have learned that I am wrong more often than I have previously realized. I have learned I can follow his lead just as God desires me to. I have learned the Hubster wants to listen to me and take my opinions into consideration. I have learned that the he will do anything in his power to protect his family. I have learned that no matter how scary life seems to be, as long as we are with each other and focused on the Lord, <b>we can endure anything. </b></div>
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I encourage my readers, with a few exceptions, to not give up on the spouse God has given you. Looking at our challenges from a worldly standpoint, we would have had a strong case to end our union. Thankfully, Kevin and I believe we have a responsibility to <b>honor </b>the vows we have taken. The words we recited ending in "Til death do us part." are not misleading. They were not conditionally based. They are a reminder that things will get tough and <b>together we can endure</b> anything that God allows into our lives. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7XobU8-Zk30RjVzwlok8eqmsUS6UpD_xyD6ieU96Y7emoN54O_ZxpkVf6ODWj1s3YTYUxmMc6DnNtbtFVMM5RUe3L_WeuLN92MgkpYexjVVQURdWX9qlJpjhtHhaN98AVlprPxbDpaFi2/s1600/Jumping+Schulzes+2013+cropped_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7XobU8-Zk30RjVzwlok8eqmsUS6UpD_xyD6ieU96Y7emoN54O_ZxpkVf6ODWj1s3YTYUxmMc6DnNtbtFVMM5RUe3L_WeuLN92MgkpYexjVVQURdWX9qlJpjhtHhaN98AVlprPxbDpaFi2/s640/Jumping+Schulzes+2013+cropped_edited-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A peek at our family photo session with, who else but <a href="http://brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></td></tr>
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-13603888234890122752013-11-14T12:50:00.000-08:002013-11-17T18:21:45.214-08:00It's a Privilege<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>t happens to ALL parents. </b></span> If you have yet to experience this feeling and you have a child, I can guarantee you, junior is under the age of three. Those of us without children, may have a special someone in our lives who invokes a similar emotion. That shiver up your spine, or a cringe in your soul, can often be the result of just a few simple words, "Can I ask you a question?" </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzKarR_Jw2viHXr6LET93nO_Kz14mbzU9jk-hvRNZ4q9ubmFatnYB7z0bbq-XZ5zJEOQnZupcRdYgFOzs4hI_y_W_bge62DQy01ph-6LgALzjr5CVf1zJ_iEMLcLneYmY-3mO8cBJQi_D/s1600/2013-11-14+13.22.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzKarR_Jw2viHXr6LET93nO_Kz14mbzU9jk-hvRNZ4q9ubmFatnYB7z0bbq-XZ5zJEOQnZupcRdYgFOzs4hI_y_W_bge62DQy01ph-6LgALzjr5CVf1zJ_iEMLcLneYmY-3mO8cBJQi_D/s400/2013-11-14+13.22.07.jpg" width="225" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">As a mom of six, I have fielded a few doozies in my seventeen years of child rearing experience. Routinely though, the standards, "What's for dinner?", "What's it going to be like outside?" and "What are we doing today?" are multiplied as you can imagine. So as to not lose my mind answering the same question over and over and over again, I have made an information board for my family to refer to. Meals, day, date, weather, laundry and shower schedule, as well as the day's happenings are answered with the scrawl of a dry erase marker (as long as I don't forget). When the majors are asked, I just point to the board.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Still questions persist. Thinking back, I have a few favorites...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"In other worlds, do red lights mean the same thing?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"When are we going to see clouds, down low, with coyotes in them?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"How does the sperm get to the egg?" (OK, not my favorite but certainly memorable)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then we have the conversation questions which usually begin with a misinterpretation of some sort.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Alize: "What's a cult?"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Mom: (with brows raised) "What are you reading?"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Alize: "Little House on the Prairie"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Mom: (a tad befuddled) "Bring it here. I want to see."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">(Alize yields the book.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Mom: (with a sense of relief) "Oh, it's a young horse."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Of course, Mom is the go-to-gal for ALL information. The later we get in the day, though, my patience grows slim. At some point during the past few years I had to declare all "What if..." questions banned after 7PM. They were making my brain hurt.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslqTDRNKmMFSjNr84MM5hwJjpDeNvDvqY8aeZWCJrLcXIbMGVn3_2GPf90hrktyzVUYhRqp4iEodC2AKGFLJX5Od_ptt9H9vY34hYwfdaVp4deiGlQ5HInOoxytgxToLOSgnH_AR8EEG1/s1600/2012-12-01+17.17.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslqTDRNKmMFSjNr84MM5hwJjpDeNvDvqY8aeZWCJrLcXIbMGVn3_2GPf90hrktyzVUYhRqp4iEodC2AKGFLJX5Od_ptt9H9vY34hYwfdaVp4deiGlQ5HInOoxytgxToLOSgnH_AR8EEG1/s400/2012-12-01+17.17.29.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
My answers? I really try to be accurate with them. As you can imagine though, I have used the "because I say so", "That is how God made it", "What if (insert child's name)?", "The last time I wore your shoes..." Those oldie but goodie answers sure do come in handy at times.<br />
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Some of my kids are in unique situations, their questions are a little more challenging. "Why don't I look like you?" "What does my birth dad look like?" "Where are my birth parents?" Along with inquiries such as these are the underlying questions often connected to undesirable behaviors. "Will they still love me if..." "Will they still keep me if..." "Will my consistent behavior receive a consistent response?"<br />
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This past week, just before bedtime, Allie came to me with heartfelt questions. They were the kind where I had to separate my emotions and realize the response she was seeking in no way reflected on my mothering skills or upon how she felt about being a Schulze. They were eliciting information about the essence of her existence. My goal is always for my kids to love their birth parents because, when they do, they are loving on a part of themselves. Due of this my answers need to be carefully constructed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRraldfGsvUg27of8rXh_rXGOwqpXzzKkb2b7fTqIK3LTZ3BlxMYsZoDwORTWPRqga6_6-yWyIg6b5Gj_UhnTcstBXEPp9ocqsBlstMUwAKlm9M-kcRWDLgO78amzEhJ7AVAIFLt-oPsrc/s1600/2013-08-09+06.51.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRraldfGsvUg27of8rXh_rXGOwqpXzzKkb2b7fTqIK3LTZ3BlxMYsZoDwORTWPRqga6_6-yWyIg6b5Gj_UhnTcstBXEPp9ocqsBlstMUwAKlm9M-kcRWDLgO78amzEhJ7AVAIFLt-oPsrc/s400/2013-08-09+06.51.20.jpg" width="400" /></a>It all started with my daughter asking how much longer birth mom would be in prison. Following my answer she enquired whether, after she was released, when birth mom was doing better, if she would go to live with her. I told her, no, because she has been adopted by her Dad and I, she is a Schulze now and is an important part of our family. She then told me she wants to live with her. Now, Allie has been doing well in school and at home, so she's not in any trouble, therefore, no punishments have been doled out recently. No, her inquiry is because she loves the biological attachment and the magical aura a birth mom can hold. Me, I get down and dirty, my shine has become a bit tarnished, she knows my strengths as well as my faults. So, I understand where she is coming from. Still, the "Why not?" question is not an easy one.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcivw_LR6rO-SQ2ZyOhCFIetmvhBILPigckaPnZoVYk0CV8yWV2PP6cq-sP6s4ESYW15WJYpmQ3OAbpKsDRi-rCv4h93KEVEjgXhdaH275aA2PAeIKyjPxvohEAV1X9uROhhKg55ReTKrN/s1600/1234622_546341135415249_1763055616_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcivw_LR6rO-SQ2ZyOhCFIetmvhBILPigckaPnZoVYk0CV8yWV2PP6cq-sP6s4ESYW15WJYpmQ3OAbpKsDRi-rCv4h93KEVEjgXhdaH275aA2PAeIKyjPxvohEAV1X9uROhhKg55ReTKrN/s320/1234622_546341135415249_1763055616_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
What comes next, I have experienced once before. "If God knew what birth mom would do, and that I would be taken away, why would He even let me be born?" I have never had my bio kids doubt the reason they exist. This question has to be handled with extreme sensitivity. "Mom and Dad can not make an Alize, she can not come from our bodies." I answer. "God needed birth mom and birth dad to make an Alize because He wanted a strong, sweet, creative, smart, beautiful, silly, caring girl that can only do things the way you do them." I quickly follow with, "But, He wanted to protect her from the hardships her biological parents were experiencing as well as the choices they would make. For that reason, God trusted Kevin and Cindy with this amazing little girl. Why? Because He knew they would love her forever and do their best to raise her to be an amazing young lady."<br />
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As these words flow from my lips, my heart breaks just a little for my sweet innocent girl. Knowing the world is creeping in on her magical life makes my eyes tear and the beat of my heart heavy. The turmoil she and her siblings endure are foreign to me and yet, I need to pause and nurture their broken hearts with scars that I can not see but only sense. I need to step far outside of my selfishness and do what God has trusted only me to do, be Allie's mom. <b>It is a privilege that surely isn't easy, but definitely is good.<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b><br />
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-69487606852351884452013-11-04T17:47:00.000-08:002013-11-14T22:03:31.687-08:00Joe: What You See Is What You Get.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"My life is an open book." is a saying that pretty much applies in my case. Not that the life I live is perfect in any way nor am I free and clear of embarrassing moments, much less poor decision making. Accepting all of the beautiful and the ugly that I bring to this world helps me ou t of controlccept the situations that appear in my life. It also helps me to know my strengths and where I may need to lean on others a bit more. The weaknesses are actually something I cherish, although sometimes reluctantly. It is through those deficiencies that God often does His best work in me. It is through my shortcomings that He tests my trust in Him. Have you ever wondered, when met with a life changing moment, if you would rise to the call? My children are used quite often to answer that question. Each member of our family has a different chapter in my book that is ever changing and used to mature me emotionally as well as spiritually. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1YneUPAjw6SDfaI6MEufbe2HArlDKIyVJFOh0SP1OFfUyG4xsDitMD015i1RJyvNhz3Dl0j-jKrrfsmg6VGYBWpDzD_h7a3dLRN3NEGGsSsYw2RuED1rJYlFfGp4zxMEi2xn2BANsUgB/s1600/1150896_546341088748587_1400372324_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1YneUPAjw6SDfaI6MEufbe2HArlDKIyVJFOh0SP1OFfUyG4xsDitMD015i1RJyvNhz3Dl0j-jKrrfsmg6VGYBWpDzD_h7a3dLRN3NEGGsSsYw2RuED1rJYlFfGp4zxMEi2xn2BANsUgB/s400/1150896_546341088748587_1400372324_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">The "Joe" chapter</span></b><span style="font-size: large;"> of our lives began rather abruptly. While on his morning commute to work, and during his weekly phone call to the newest grandparent addition, the </span>Hubster<span style="font-size: large;"> found out the baby had been born and was currently residing with the birth mom who was yet to be freed from her addiction. Being foster parents, mandated reporters, and the adoptive parents of the baby's siblings, our hands were tied. Legally, we had to make the call. During our subsequent phone contact, I remember telling the </span>Hubster<span style="font-size: large;">, "We need to pray about this." Although that was never accomplished together, I know our hearts were united with our Lord's as the day went on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My job, going direct to the solution and contacting our recently relieved CPS case worker, skipping that toll free number all together. As I relayed the current news, I found the words, "Keep us in mind." flowing effortlessly out of my mouth. Her reply, "Are you sure?" Our first meeting with this amazing social worker had occurred only eleven months prior. Since that original contact she had been a key player in our recent adoption of Angel and Alize, which blessed her heart after knowing them for two and a half years. For some reason, I don't think my affirmative answer surprised her much.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7UPKJgbwfMIuY5pzCHuXQHzbxIaKxZSlF6pmV9TfKaTFj0-ZwvMhJsbDMuAnqMnC3Mo2ogRh1GYvFAD288T-RD_4gaxS7jvCRhqlmsnecaSgGRRwyvhE05ZywlcN-NlPZbDfnSti37AM/s1600/Joe+sand+angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7UPKJgbwfMIuY5pzCHuXQHzbxIaKxZSlF6pmV9TfKaTFj0-ZwvMhJsbDMuAnqMnC3Mo2ogRh1GYvFAD288T-RD_4gaxS7jvCRhqlmsnecaSgGRRwyvhE05ZywlcN-NlPZbDfnSti37AM/s400/Joe+sand+angel.jpg" width="400" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;"><b>That</b> is when the pacing in literal circles began. While on the phone with a dear friend of mine I realized my most recent newborn was on her way to double digits that year. "What do you need?" was heard over the receiver. "Diapers?" was all I could think of as my mind continued to spin out of control. As I remember, our day was up and down emotionally. The Hubster was prepared to leave work as soon as the call would come in. Which it did later in the afternoon and he soon came home. We then needed to pick our older three from school. Number four </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">had been hanging out with me all day as usual. A crazy, exciting vibe was hovering around our family. Just thirteen months ago we had two kids and now, we were just about to receive number five. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After a couple of false alarms and a drive-thru dinner we decided to keep our Wednesday schedule in tact. Once we had our minds set, we got the phone call. Where would we like to meet and receive the five day old boy? We were on our way to church, so why not there. That was just where they would drop him off. We like to say, Joe was delivered in the church parking lot. We had a baby. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoe8dE_0AaLeOfUr4sxv-q6p2mtqNDDvdOk5G6qzZ82pJXhiD_UkcTrU-L_SSSfbyZ-WspsN2Mqsjdb_pOPq1lFP_xYesB69zaPm8BblZ5EpXiHz2nfbeHI5IXA6TqRL7fOrpYTcELd03/s1600/Glenday_077-1(rev+0).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><span style="font-size: large;">Soon, in the church office, my sweet friend hauled in five Target bags filled with everything I would need. As we emptied them, one item at a time, we were able to share this special moment with a couple other ladies. Our impromptu shower was as sweet and as unexpected as the bundle I was blessed with just minutes prior.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoe8dE_0AaLeOfUr4sxv-q6p2mtqNDDvdOk5G6qzZ82pJXhiD_UkcTrU-L_SSSfbyZ-WspsN2Mqsjdb_pOPq1lFP_xYesB69zaPm8BblZ5EpXiHz2nfbeHI5IXA6TqRL7fOrpYTcELd03/s1600/Glenday_077-1(rev+0).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoe8dE_0AaLeOfUr4sxv-q6p2mtqNDDvdOk5G6qzZ82pJXhiD_UkcTrU-L_SSSfbyZ-WspsN2Mqsjdb_pOPq1lFP_xYesB69zaPm8BblZ5EpXiHz2nfbeHI5IXA6TqRL7fOrpYTcELd03/s400/Glenday_077-1(rev+0).jpg" width="265" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Joe's inception into the Schulze family was an adventure. His infancy was no less exciting. Our newest member was quite vocal. His song of choice was more like screaming, OK, it was screaming. Our sweet baby would scream for anything and everything and not just a regular scream, it was a bone chilling, I understand why some people can't handle this, kind of scream. Joe had been exposed to methamphetamine daily for at least the first five months of his pregnancy. I am sure these screeches were the result of that cause. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The next year we would bond as mother and son, spend time in courtrooms, with social workers, and at doctor's offices. We would share visits with biological family as well as other adoptive families. We would endure, spine tingling screams, sleepless nights, and the anxiety linked with adoption through the foster care system. We would give this boy his first haircut at three months, watch him stand and then walk, and discover that sign language would minimize the shrieking greatly. We would snuggle him, cuddle him, and fall in love with him. After fifteen months in our care, Joe became a Schulze.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3k5KQk46J1Fc2nm-KZcOGo7d11JjmFmhx4UC01jion7x-n2o3p5LFoiSY29w8wP0qj8yl1dPZivNsMwjnK2hyZ-TdZnnwMSoN1lB5V_DwIBTrqxXiWyDI0uRpGpSsQNXAZm7VsDzCASh/s1600/2013-03-15+13.08.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3k5KQk46J1Fc2nm-KZcOGo7d11JjmFmhx4UC01jion7x-n2o3p5LFoiSY29w8wP0qj8yl1dPZivNsMwjnK2hyZ-TdZnnwMSoN1lB5V_DwIBTrqxXiWyDI0uRpGpSsQNXAZm7VsDzCASh/s400/2013-03-15+13.08.08.jpg" width="400" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;">Now, as we grow closer to his seventh birthday I look at my son and see an articulate, charismatic, affectionate little guy. I see an innate protective instinct that will assure the safety of many in his future. I see his love for family, friends, and God. I see his self confidence as well as his timidity. I see a sparkle in his eye and a spring in his step when he is enjoying life. I see deep pain and sorrow when things go astray. He feels intensely and loves profoundly. This boy lives life to it's extreme. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because of his living life on the so-called edge, I wonder about his prospective future. I wonder about the possibilities. I know that whatever he encounters, he will take it head on, with his whole heart. There is not much grey area with my fifth child. He either does or he doesn't, he either is or he isn't, he either will or he won't. With Joe, what you see is what you get.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIsBmtIlQNs_t5JrqTfcDzB2L7_oJIbRaxRS_X4Pk6WqldpA9M9pSFkc_oVApO9OT6A5SQyZfG4X9WJuD5dOJH8xEK-5MifOkMxWdOmJSfu5Ev4EBv0bUsZTeKQ64y5Ob-FqckNowvVeZ/s1600/2013-08-27+17.25.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIsBmtIlQNs_t5JrqTfcDzB2L7_oJIbRaxRS_X4Pk6WqldpA9M9pSFkc_oVApO9OT6A5SQyZfG4X9WJuD5dOJH8xEK-5MifOkMxWdOmJSfu5Ev4EBv0bUsZTeKQ64y5Ob-FqckNowvVeZ/s640/2013-08-27+17.25.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-21478230877302949462013-10-25T13:55:00.000-07:002013-10-25T13:55:04.945-07:00Flashback Friday: Gone Fishin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-GKwcq36J6NLb5WHtJfNMWuJTit8ToVi0UYO2-FYELGOooumjI82xKAQ0haI8zG5Q5tdTXmf8evEoNDN8omM41r9gMpjY_U8tVU7iRSBsInHLDDwJZ4AIuikxSeCrM-vLbYBFKHGqRDg/s1600/1315201338510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-GKwcq36J6NLb5WHtJfNMWuJTit8ToVi0UYO2-FYELGOooumjI82xKAQ0haI8zG5Q5tdTXmf8evEoNDN8omM41r9gMpjY_U8tVU7iRSBsInHLDDwJZ4AIuikxSeCrM-vLbYBFKHGqRDg/s1600/1315201338510.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It's a Jilliefish...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq00dPo9aWsJmxpGXEeDKqtYP-xd2ainKpnUzNkjpDIyLDVdhbkgKbBeGpUInvNxkkaIQC8EwxNSeIT6JEzDiV9N7hd521eT7c8oRhuRyQDA0ZXBg1DjQIkLxbj4AFCu3PHKlNfDvLFrOs/s1600/1315201338705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq00dPo9aWsJmxpGXEeDKqtYP-xd2ainKpnUzNkjpDIyLDVdhbkgKbBeGpUInvNxkkaIQC8EwxNSeIT6JEzDiV9N7hd521eT7c8oRhuRyQDA0ZXBg1DjQIkLxbj4AFCu3PHKlNfDvLFrOs/s1600/1315201338705.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">A Joejoefish...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0gmNcayFPq1LH0ACe5N-vCJCz7g07Voi21JSjYXsQ473XXwxsjdmo9_ecKETL95zCf8XtPHKkbquD3n1eJOAkccE3aHLHyt8wLZTuaPNZ764FQzuLPOBzjACrDkf1VvcI754gzwawGw1r/s1600/1315201339291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0gmNcayFPq1LH0ACe5N-vCJCz7g07Voi21JSjYXsQ473XXwxsjdmo9_ecKETL95zCf8XtPHKkbquD3n1eJOAkccE3aHLHyt8wLZTuaPNZ764FQzuLPOBzjACrDkf1VvcI754gzwawGw1r/s1600/1315201339291.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">An Alizefish...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJChyDcOfBaf_aXMNJdT2FGRccI416o8ZdfMrrnl6SSLLj0XYk0uj3rr60vQU_C5jQVVlGRr2ubMPzney-hpT757TuAEszK_vWr9cyIwacw_FKhWT1QBtmDpHnMlhTkQVRunoL6cjUHjGf/s1600/1315201338890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJChyDcOfBaf_aXMNJdT2FGRccI416o8ZdfMrrnl6SSLLj0XYk0uj3rr60vQU_C5jQVVlGRr2ubMPzney-hpT757TuAEszK_vWr9cyIwacw_FKhWT1QBtmDpHnMlhTkQVRunoL6cjUHjGf/s1600/1315201338890.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">An Angelfish...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJT-vhx-ctMZkkWuobtURGEbBZWEw8MTyhgGpX998sVcheBzv2XHJMNAMbeJqiMLfcUBn_f-CZWAd61E7w3oghzw1bdYA2sD1THHjZJ52lqnjkN2adJ_q7wmOVBKZi-FXasH48HQmtuhP/s1600/1315201339087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJT-vhx-ctMZkkWuobtURGEbBZWEw8MTyhgGpX998sVcheBzv2XHJMNAMbeJqiMLfcUBn_f-CZWAd61E7w3oghzw1bdYA2sD1THHjZJ52lqnjkN2adJ_q7wmOVBKZi-FXasH48HQmtuhP/s1600/1315201339087.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">An Emilyfish...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE00Uwl57n7KGZG-NaTIjJ4x2IDhVYIWuS75hsnZZCX9XmJZ7bi70q2HRjXeBwapwNgjaxquO4FP1zaC53DGNRSOSxh3Z-g40k6gh4-Bu0H-e8GmZCvw6tejEHxVC5sZM9T7rjN2JNFwZm/s1600/1315201339507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE00Uwl57n7KGZG-NaTIjJ4x2IDhVYIWuS75hsnZZCX9XmJZ7bi70q2HRjXeBwapwNgjaxquO4FP1zaC53DGNRSOSxh3Z-g40k6gh4-Bu0H-e8GmZCvw6tejEHxVC5sZM9T7rjN2JNFwZm/s1600/1315201339507.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">A Mommyfish...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-4TzDJqTwib8ugubycbMHqMe6KKw6tpHjYpAImpW0nfJNp4b0uG67uwuIdT-Hbs7cECrG44zbA24_-3oyvawNWugzHCoVJwTTv9RERkhRPXQWSRsTCoJzdDtdToZyaAVZEBnhg3ONZvN/s1600/1315201339667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-4TzDJqTwib8ugubycbMHqMe6KKw6tpHjYpAImpW0nfJNp4b0uG67uwuIdT-Hbs7cECrG44zbA24_-3oyvawNWugzHCoVJwTTv9RERkhRPXQWSRsTCoJzdDtdToZyaAVZEBnhg3ONZvN/s1600/1315201339667.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">A Daddyfish...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETVm4wDWNzl8Ue56albEuxcj6p0l8u5Dr29HXseY1tV3QQoo1oj-kNZdHWmFJmLGFXF05SjcnfMgcC7UnrBXhfYVuzqVWnGQu_p-ZfeOecZkVm9FMeIfkdxAmG9epXbkgBW7mbJySpRD6/s1600/1315201340079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETVm4wDWNzl8Ue56albEuxcj6p0l8u5Dr29HXseY1tV3QQoo1oj-kNZdHWmFJmLGFXF05SjcnfMgcC7UnrBXhfYVuzqVWnGQu_p-ZfeOecZkVm9FMeIfkdxAmG9epXbkgBW7mbJySpRD6/s1600/1315201340079.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the ever elusive...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">... Ericfish!</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZQXvwMkxE3vqvwJq7ybJvFEMDbYgz2a8SUIPyPEuFFeEZL9QYQ0t9aFKPUtsiAqFLSF8o96JFQas9y6QUbKwXBtZ2VIjreeMEqr2xFa4EeRZQWJDfBsCfBlF2ThTzgAfjX1nDadhtfBf/s1600/1315201340303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZQXvwMkxE3vqvwJq7ybJvFEMDbYgz2a8SUIPyPEuFFeEZL9QYQ0t9aFKPUtsiAqFLSF8o96JFQas9y6QUbKwXBtZ2VIjreeMEqr2xFa4EeRZQWJDfBsCfBlF2ThTzgAfjX1nDadhtfBf/s1600/1315201340303.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just have to be patient and grab the opportunity when it presents itself!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-9180480426178893992013-10-24T05:30:00.000-07:002013-10-24T23:15:47.026-07:00Therapy Thursday: Day to Day Existence<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>One of the most intimidating things</b></span> when parenting a child with special needs is therapy. Whether, speech, physical, or occupational it is difficult to figure out quality time to devote to working on new tasks. As a mom of six,<b> finding consistent time</b> to perfect the developmental skills that come naturally to most, is close to impossible. </div>
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I remember the pint sized<b> treadmill that camped out </b>in our living room for months waiting for someone to hold Jillie above it so her feet would learn to walk. Let me tell you, that was a bicep builder. That exercise apparatus did not get used as much as it should have, partially because Jillie would just lift her feet and dangle in our extended arms. Mostly, it was because our time to devote to it was not abundant. I realized, therapy needed to be tied into our day to day existence. We needed to<b> use the resources we had on hand</b>, brothers and sisters. We set them on the task of encouraging Jillie to walk, by them holding her hands while her feet were on the floor. Wouldn't you know it, she walked and still does. One night she stood right up and took four or five steps, all at once. Did she do it for me, nope, she walked between the Biggles, Eric and Emily.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTRU8sXyalKe0XLbl_LP4BSjTgLpiDXOTl11ipW3C4VRTKsgZuj3PrmV1gANWHes2wrz-aj5t75XWh4pgD8RPDAIgoWByaAm1_wtMVkCgTPkteugQxK3eUmTKXGZBgS0HhzlJXTIqFa6Lv/s1600/P1010151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTRU8sXyalKe0XLbl_LP4BSjTgLpiDXOTl11ipW3C4VRTKsgZuj3PrmV1gANWHes2wrz-aj5t75XWh4pgD8RPDAIgoWByaAm1_wtMVkCgTPkteugQxK3eUmTKXGZBgS0HhzlJXTIqFa6Lv/s400/P1010151.JPG" width="400" /></a><b>I love Jillie's therapists!</b> They do an amazing job with her and encourage me weekly. When we set goals for my daughter I look for ways to achieve our objective while <b>making my job a little easier</b>, if possible. For speech therapy, for example, Jillie needed to strengthen her tongue and lips. So, no more cutting up spaghetti noodles. She would need to use her verbal muscles to work that pasta into her mouth. I also would turn her string cheese into threads and feed her peanut butter sandwiches on soft white bread, anything to get those muscles working out.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6vGIXoyy-Ov4-3D90uLLEidKP2D_qCHd-ou-rTSHmzP0lP3lJrEHaUGZtky8rzi10eVs1HJ2dl8HRXSVsnkY2rVEcbo-r5M5zb48KTjepfbkY-7ujGVAmse7q547bnHFqpzYfVI8wU5c/s1600/2012-08-25+14.40.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6vGIXoyy-Ov4-3D90uLLEidKP2D_qCHd-ou-rTSHmzP0lP3lJrEHaUGZtky8rzi10eVs1HJ2dl8HRXSVsnkY2rVEcbo-r5M5zb48KTjepfbkY-7ujGVAmse7q547bnHFqpzYfVI8wU5c/s400/2012-08-25+14.40.46.jpg" width="400" /></a>Our big goals now have more to do with occupational therapy, more fine motor skills to help her be <b>successful in kindergarten</b>. We have special pencils to aid in her grip. I have apps to help her count and write numbers. We play with play dough to strengthen her hand muscles. Our latest OT tool is, <b>Box Tops</b>. Yes, the ones for education. Who'd have thought the little money makers would benefit my daughter in a totally different way. I set her up with a tray, paper, big glue stick and pre-cut Box Tops and she had a blast. We practiced <b>counting objects</b>, each page needed 10. She then had to glue the tiny rectangles in specific places on the paper, not just any random place, she needed to <b>follow directions</b>, which she did. Paired with the <b>fine motor skills</b> she was strengthening, it was quite the task. After five pages, she was done, but we have plenty more to take up this project again. Tomorrow,<b> she will hand her endeavours over</b> to her teacher so she can play the Box Tops game of the month. I am pretty sure it has to something do with pumpkins.</div>
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<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-42450060839733387742013-10-22T06:00:00.000-07:002013-10-24T23:17:04.116-07:00Deterring Deviations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">This past week </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">I spent my mornings sitting in the back of my 7th grader's class. I did not go there to <b>embarrass</b> him, contrary to what he thought my purpose was. I did not go to make sure he was doing the right thing by <b>policing </b>him nor to <b>investigate</b> his friendships. I went to <b>observe</b> him in his natural surroundings. I knew my presence, though, made the common habits of a 13 year old boy difficult. Still, I had my eyes searching for any type of academic engagement. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">My son is quite capable of a "B" average, straight "A's" if he pushes himself. In his circle of peers, though, it is<b> not the popular thing</b> to raise your hand in class, whether to ask a question or to give an answer. I guess the teens are concerned with looking too smart or too confused. As a result, some bad habits, accompanied with matching grades, have begun to emerge. My job is to help my son <b>overcome</b> previous choices, but such a task can be daunting and trying to produce new habits in this kid is not easy. Fortunately, I am a parent <b>committed</b> to grow responsible young people. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaRNQX7xTbhJI7fcPBIFa2dtCpAxXLMf0-gm3OJi5InD9Tn1X5HVKiUi8XAlD4OroeYGLphyphenhyphenZ6xHrlLS8baDB5PkFJMYeRkcdxAemtS34deNkLp2vsPQF1MHJxJVhRcvroMW1V2ge8F3J3/s1600/2013-10-15+10.26.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaRNQX7xTbhJI7fcPBIFa2dtCpAxXLMf0-gm3OJi5InD9Tn1X5HVKiUi8XAlD4OroeYGLphyphenhyphenZ6xHrlLS8baDB5PkFJMYeRkcdxAemtS34deNkLp2vsPQF1MHJxJVhRcvroMW1V2ge8F3J3/s640/2013-10-15+10.26.52.jpg" width="360" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"> I actually had a pretty good time at school. I sat in my designated chair, opened my tablet and then <b>developed a system</b> to keep track of his involvement. Next, I diligently invested my time on Pinterest planning dinners for the next couple of weeks (complete with grocery list). Texting the hubster to keep him filled in on all of the hand raising, answering and asking of questions was of severe importance. I then <b>kept up</b> on facebook, noting the new things I learned like what an "ellipsis" is. I also did some blog planning but did not have much time to actually write. All I really needed, was my physical attendance in the back of the class. <b>Who really cared</b> what exactly I was doing. My son would rarely look back to see if I was still there, it was easier to be in denial if he didn't actually see me. Needless to say, my child's teachers noticed an increase in academic activity as well as appropriate behavior. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">It has taken me a few years but I have finally realized, <b>why must the discipline initiated for my child be a punishment for me?</b> I began to see the need for me to retain my sanity. So I try to make the most of my child's corrections. I could have sulked in that seat. I could have documented the deviations. Instead, I sought out positive conduct and made sure my needs were met also.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">After three days, three hours each, I have been asked to <b>"pop in"</b> anytime I want a few times a week. Kind of keeping my son on his toes, so-to-speak. Hopefully we can assist this boy in forming new habits both educationally as well as socially.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Today, I popped in, <b>unannounced</b>, went back to my chair and updated my grocery list. Just prior to leaving for his math class, my son was invited outside to take a spelling test he had missed. In his absence, I too became absent. <b>I did wait</b> to leave the school, as he would pass the parking lot on the way to math. I wanted him to see my van and <b>anticipate</b> me joining the class at any moment. Instead, I popped into my vehicle, drove to the grocery store, pulled up that grocery list, and shopped for those dinners. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Oh yeah, <b>I actually had time to write </b>today too!</span><br />
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-32165160846727425702013-10-16T21:30:00.001-07:002013-10-24T23:18:06.152-07:00Perfecting Their Skills<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">All photos by</span><span style="font-size: small;"> <a href="http://www.brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Brothers and sisters,</b></span> sisters and brothers, part of my challenge as a parent is helping them to understand each other, not an easy task. Usually things get loud, whether it's voices, doors, or dishes. My inspiration for this post is continuing on as I type. Alize is learning to load a dishwasher and Angel is teaching her, that situation in itself could power a small combustion engine. The clattering of cookware, the sounds of adversity, the sighs of discontent can be deafening, at the same time, they are almost music to my ears, almost.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjywErFnvRfKggXxQCRiBzO1vbZsCmb9aC-2hJbXxsSjM6LCqSutUUGCkbvyOWVyNWt6BOvi2zkkIeU1PSwaUF2R-ds8qal71dGIPWk_V9tqcjMK-erdtz67-rDyXLvVK5S5sT1xOpv9Pji/s1600/_MG_1977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjywErFnvRfKggXxQCRiBzO1vbZsCmb9aC-2hJbXxsSjM6LCqSutUUGCkbvyOWVyNWt6BOvi2zkkIeU1PSwaUF2R-ds8qal71dGIPWk_V9tqcjMK-erdtz67-rDyXLvVK5S5sT1xOpv9Pji/s320/_MG_1977.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_AqINZ8ooxEZ-QlNreWra89hbDy0r7DsB0Q95rgkEOdSXg9h-XG7y5j3Txf7NspxRcP-8Vt1O2cGShi0toFkj7vY_yzh7VbmQjgBpwRW4T8q7wCFFyXQKA5yzJHkI5eBJ1jcAE4DR52s/s1600/_MG_2023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_AqINZ8ooxEZ-QlNreWra89hbDy0r7DsB0Q95rgkEOdSXg9h-XG7y5j3Txf7NspxRcP-8Vt1O2cGShi0toFkj7vY_yzh7VbmQjgBpwRW4T8q7wCFFyXQKA5yzJHkI5eBJ1jcAE4DR52s/s320/_MG_2023.jpg" width="213" /></a><b>This arrangement is multi-facetted. </b> First, I have grown tired of teaching Angel the correct way to load a dishwasher and hand wash dishes. I know, why would I have someone teach who hasn't seemed to have learned? Having a feeling my son knew more than he lead us to believe, I made him the educator. <b>Wouldn't you know it</b>, all of a sudden, he knows everything there is to know about filling the dishwasher. Alize makes sure to ask <b>plenty of questions</b> when trying something new. Telling his sister how to do the same thing over and over is providing this brother with a life lesson in patience and how to handle frustration. <b>It's not easy</b> explaining a task to someone, let alone discovering them doing it their own way in spite of the training provided. Hmmmm, something I experience quite often. These two are full biological siblings who came to live with us at the same time. One would think, this <b>commonality </b>would provide a bond that would be unspoken. Not so, in fact the opposite is quite true. It is a rare moment when this pair is in the same place, doing the same thing in a harmonious manner. Which brings me to my final purpose, simply, getting along with one another. Forcing this brother and sister to work together will, hopefully, encourage some type of <b>mutual understanding </b>and hopefully, trust.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-KnplPgrtTE6w5hsyyJ2alwWV-TFfm4gzbO2xxTBZYNotXj5C5gpQL3wMt9r4UKgSmQSk7D7Pjg73BwwMt5UXXpfc_xFlusQfSp0l4yeaMLoXLModgf93LaOTjO3grl9UZ4893OumUTF/s1600/_MG_1992_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-KnplPgrtTE6w5hsyyJ2alwWV-TFfm4gzbO2xxTBZYNotXj5C5gpQL3wMt9r4UKgSmQSk7D7Pjg73BwwMt5UXXpfc_xFlusQfSp0l4yeaMLoXLModgf93LaOTjO3grl9UZ4893OumUTF/s320/_MG_1992_1.jpg" width="213" /></a>As the din dies down between the middles, <b>my biggles start in</b>. Emily has a math project she is working on and is, rightfully so, very proud of her endeavor. Eric, a calculus student who loves the numbers, was adamant in his ideas, much to Emily's dismay. My persistent son's voice grew louder while Emily <b>emphatically declined</b> his assistance. Fortunately, these two figured each other out years ago. There's has been a partnership that, until recently, ran very smoothly. You see, Eric likes to win and Emily is not comfortable with confrontation. Eric likes the spot light and Emily prefers supporting roles. Over a decade of their lives was spent with Emily seceding to her big brother in just about everything. We had very few arguments because, there was no need. The challenge now exists due to Emily's burgeoning independence. Eric is beginning to acknowledge his younger sibling's right to be right, although it hasn't been very easy for him.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT77KOfnVA6jnMEHLj4kHcZv48uvahca0OI3n3hU6LOHgXJXlay3bVmDUanaOpqVrVpJTp5ChKtNi8cHUc5-liSdkZ6ekxmSBEzwlz2gBkhahdT5FeSEYhFI7-ng0FDG4u2OSDdUGmAkRk/s1600/_MG_2060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT77KOfnVA6jnMEHLj4kHcZv48uvahca0OI3n3hU6LOHgXJXlay3bVmDUanaOpqVrVpJTp5ChKtNi8cHUc5-liSdkZ6ekxmSBEzwlz2gBkhahdT5FeSEYhFI7-ng0FDG4u2OSDdUGmAkRk/s320/_MG_2060.jpg" width="213" /></a>"The Littles," Joe and Jillie are in a similar situation. Jillie adores her bigger little, as he does her. Looking across the couch at the two of them, watching "Go Dog Go" be recited for the millionth time in our home, her head resting on his chest as he peruses the pages, is enough to make <b>this mom well up with pride</b>. There are many times, though, that this eager first grader wants to lend his sister a helping hand when she swats it away and snaps back at him with a "NO". <b>Her autonomy gets in the way of his authority </b>quite often. Nevertheless, Joe sure does love being a big brother to his sweet sister. Personally, I think he has been her favorite from day one. After all, his was the first name she could say. He is the one that will be at home with her the longest. It's not coincidental that it is "a hug from Joe" that Jillie's teachers give as an incentive to help her make good choices through out her day. Stickers, candy, stamps don't stand up to the allure of a <b>quick cuddle from her brother.</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We LOVE<a href="http://www.brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: small;"> Brooke Photography</span></a></td></tr>
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I love that my boys all have a younger sister to learn how to<b> protect and take care</b> of all while figuring out just how<b> strong and independent</b> they really can be. I love that my girls all have a big brother to <b>look up to</b> and help mold them into the men <b>God wants them to be</b>. At the same time the young ladies in my house get to allow my young men to practice emotions they will need some day as they all find wives. <br />
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My kids are <b>perfecting their skills </b>socially, the girls are learning how to deal with boys as the boys learn how to handle the girls. Eventually, they will all use what they have been taught away from home, in college, their careers, their marriages, and their families. <b>My hope is that they will have prepared each other well.</b><br />
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-83937972171965522162013-10-14T06:00:00.000-07:002013-10-24T23:18:59.413-07:00A Note Sharing A Letter by Noah's Dad<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6nEw2X0ZhVJHpDZ3yBPBnNQJi718Pzi7puQiztkHmLsP4Z3Ly9hu6CJORNk6oGXPzOb_r8rc1YHrCZyl6BcJ2aQK_U8t3fFKM6WArPI2DlMfqVl5IEWGGy7Ryq82sbeG0q98Odzs0ss9/s1600/0828081110a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6nEw2X0ZhVJHpDZ3yBPBnNQJi718Pzi7puQiztkHmLsP4Z3Ly9hu6CJORNk6oGXPzOb_r8rc1YHrCZyl6BcJ2aQK_U8t3fFKM6WArPI2DlMfqVl5IEWGGy7Ryq82sbeG0q98Odzs0ss9/s400/0828081110a.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first time I held Jillian</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was one of the fortunate ones</span>, my grief lasted but a moment. My heart was won over by Trisomy 21 before Jillian was born. I could not have imagined, thought of, wished for anyone different than our baby girl. <b> I don't know why </b>but I was excited at the thought of my child being born with Down syndrome. That response is<b> not typical</b>, at all. When I look back at how enthusiastic I was, I am sure I took the medical community around me by surprise. They were used the the devastation, they were used to the loss, they were used to emotions far different than the ones I was portraying. <b>I didn't give them a chance to be sorry for us.</b> When I look back, I see nothing but my heart having been prepared by God.<br />
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With that said, I have recently read a wonderful letter posted on a wonderful blog, <b><a href="http://noahsdad.com/">noahsdad.com</a></b>. The father of a child with Down syndrome having not been diagnosed until birth had experienced the typical emotions, not regretting his son for one minute. Here is a taste of what his "<a href="http://noahsdad.com/how-to-deliver-diagnosis-down-syndrome/" target="_blank">Open Letter to Every OB/GYN On The Planet"</a> says.<br />
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<a href="http://noahsdad.com/how-to-deliver-diagnosis-down-syndrome/" target="_blank">Dear OB/GYN,</a></div>
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I’m the father of a two year old boy named Noah who was <a href="http://noahsdad.com/story/" style="-webkit-transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out; border: 0px; color: #aa4e3f; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out; vertical-align: baseline;" title="noah's birth story">born with Down syndrome</a>, and whom we love very much. I understand that in the course of your day to day work you often have the difficult responsibility of telling parents news they never thought they would receive; that there’s a likely chance the little boy or girl in their mothers womb is going to be born with <a href="http://noahsdad.com/down-syndrome/" style="-webkit-transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out; border: 0px; color: #aa4e3f; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out; vertical-align: baseline;" title="what is down syndrome">Down syndrome</a>.</div>
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<a href="http://noahsdad.com/how-to-deliver-diagnosis-down-syndrome/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Why I’m Writing You This Letter</span></a></h2>
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I invite you to click on the link above to continue to read what, <b>Rick Smith</b>, Noah's Dad has to say. It is what I hope to tell future parents. <b>Look for the Possibilities not the Probabilities.</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She is a "Smart Cookie" just like her shirt says!</td></tr>
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-39469262441946560972013-10-12T06:00:00.000-07:002013-10-24T23:20:04.707-07:00My Biggest Cheerleader!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>One of the greatest compliments</b></span> I have ever received was, "Your kids feel comfortable in their own skin." I mean, what more can a mom ask for than to have children confident with who they are? When I say "confident" I in no way mean arrogant or selfish. No, I mean, <b>OK with the life</b> God has given them.<br />
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In our family, my daughter, Emily, (the one that looks like me) embodies this the most, I think. The <b>casual certainty</b> in what is deemed important is woven throughout most areas in her life. Just shy of 16 years old, Emily will tell you it is the trials she has been through that has helped her to avoid the typical teenage torrents. I will tell you she arrived in this world with a rare mixture of <b>quiet, independence</b>. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRKezNMAU80DgTiVh2uEg87jvA-BuOg0weFibe-jgjr5Cx8k_nN4S794v5MmB08jgqmMSU8V91hWDXeNVIi6fxOMDxMkNwK1b5bzvYMQYcteX9dH9vABw2v7Ga3leQX9QD0T6UEiY7dYD/s1600/E+and+E+in+line+bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRKezNMAU80DgTiVh2uEg87jvA-BuOg0weFibe-jgjr5Cx8k_nN4S794v5MmB08jgqmMSU8V91hWDXeNVIi6fxOMDxMkNwK1b5bzvYMQYcteX9dH9vABw2v7Ga3leQX9QD0T6UEiY7dYD/s320/E+and+E+in+line+bw.jpg" width="320" /></a>As a little thing she often eyed people with a, "who are you and what are you doing in my world" kind of look. Nap times did not consist of snuggling Mommy until you succumb to sleep. Nope, it was, "I want my own bed period" kind of stuff. Emily's prayers were <b>solidly consistent</b>. In fact, I am sure both the Hubster and I could have recited it verbatim. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, bedtime or just because, it was the same exact prayer every time. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3DNB_jH3j7PmpvpgsLVirzzQrN0tW91DA6Gh5T3DhY12RW2RBXY-Hi6wOcnNm8kE68R4UUO8FxvREpuFf9yRzAfvqO_Wp1o-oS6G9exMcfXxd1NjV6ELrI8k_lmrGJM49AzIRsDUg_0f/s1600/P1020362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3DNB_jH3j7PmpvpgsLVirzzQrN0tW91DA6Gh5T3DhY12RW2RBXY-Hi6wOcnNm8kE68R4UUO8FxvREpuFf9yRzAfvqO_Wp1o-oS6G9exMcfXxd1NjV6ELrI8k_lmrGJM49AzIRsDUg_0f/s400/P1020362.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<b>Every time but one</b>. I was listening to her expected prayer when, quite matter of fact, she interrupted her familiar supplication with, "and Jesus please be in my heart." No big deal just <b>accepted the Messiah</b> as her Lord and Savior, that's all. She then continued on as usual. But things weren't usual after that. My opinionated, selective little five year old seemed to soften. <b>Sweetness was seen more often</b> as well as other honorable personality traits. I remember asking our Children's Pastor whether her request that night counted or not. I was used to Eric, 19 months older and reminded of his sin daily. He accepted the Savior every time his head hit his pillow, just to make sure. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ODLV1kVDI32HxgpRQHEbH3XlGwYLMxJSrZGsKdLYSpWPuebnQQpERt6NgCqNDsMaQyW-6tOoN6qbb1aKcnbhex8XQMUJzfGwk9i7Q9XGmlwvyrxWg8CUKuYM6Tqx43HiiJjncHH9sojd/s1600/Emily+Snow+BW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ODLV1kVDI32HxgpRQHEbH3XlGwYLMxJSrZGsKdLYSpWPuebnQQpERt6NgCqNDsMaQyW-6tOoN6qbb1aKcnbhex8XQMUJzfGwk9i7Q9XGmlwvyrxWg8CUKuYM6Tqx43HiiJjncHH9sojd/s400/Emily+Snow+BW.jpg" width="322" /></a>Soon, at school as well as at church, Emily would be the child who would <b>embrace the new kid </b>and make them feel comfortable. She began to feel for others and see things from differing aspects. This new emotional self seemed to confuse her for awhile. I remember sitting in the movie theater with tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched Boo's door disappears through the chipper. In early elementary school, her two closest friends were heated rivals. The girls would literally fight over who could sit with my daughter. During those moments she did not feel safe but, at the same time, didn't want to hurt any one's feelings. Our solution was to have Emily ask the teacher choose a different friend to sit by. Then there was the seven year old Tom Cruise look-a-like who was adamant at stealing a kiss from her, more than once, at school. She was so little she didn't even understand the emotions she was experiencing. I would often need to shore up my daughter's <b>overactive empathy</b>, giving her the tools she needed to get through her day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amazing pic of an Amazing girl by an Amazing <a href="http://www.brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Photographer </a></td></tr>
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Those tools would come in handy when she was no longer the youngest in the family. Her first three little siblings would put her through the emotional wringer. It didn't take long before she was able to <b>strengthen herself</b> and stand firm as their big sister. When we came to Eric and her with the news of a fourth, now biological, sibling, she cried. Going from zero to three little brothers and sisters in about a year had taken it's toll. "I don't want anymore siblings!" was her lament that night. I explained to her that, when Eric was ten months old, I certainly wasn't looking to get pregnant. <b> I wouldn't have missed out on her for the world </b>though.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Dt5mrLGG1B6om5nrNGs6JudasuSFt7NnKhO1mF7pbduKoyRGHI_aBvKJpKpKEbr8BOG7WFlcyJYGmWPJA_KGpeF0JAAF1R6DieYe6nKRHARe38pcoS6YDNnBI4N4JvdUb0TG4-UoXcdl/s1600/0630091236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Dt5mrLGG1B6om5nrNGs6JudasuSFt7NnKhO1mF7pbduKoyRGHI_aBvKJpKpKEbr8BOG7WFlcyJYGmWPJA_KGpeF0JAAF1R6DieYe6nKRHARe38pcoS6YDNnBI4N4JvdUb0TG4-UoXcdl/s400/0630091236.jpg" width="400" /></a> After that, she was my biggest cheerleader. Now, she is Jillie's biggest fan also, as well as being a huge fan of the rest of her siblings and anyone else who falls into her circle. At any time a conversation with my oldest daughter you can tell that her <b>family is extremely important to her</b>. In fact, when given the opportunity to speak solely about herself, she almost always will fit in family also. <br />
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I love that God has taught her to "<b>roll with the punches</b>". Life is too short to take it so seriously. At the same time, it's too long to not do something about it. Living a life with purpose as well as humor has been her strong point and will get her far. </div>
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Ten years later, I say <b>that prayer counted</b> and is evident in the way she lives her life. Is she perfect? No, one look at her room and you can see that. Does the "teenager" ever creep in? Occasionally, but she doesn't stay for long. Does the future make her nervous? Most definitely, growing up has not been easy for my oldest daughter. That alone is rare in today's society. I have been content with her slow road to adulthood. In our fast paced world, <b>taking your time to mature is a precious thing</b>. I'm glad she makes sure to have fun on the way.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZLrP3X2liGJsvIo2Z0NLPlYg654XoYjjJadbp2HyNjlr7EAHNFoY0RcOH9GMyyRbX5F40CCzIyzkiwdM-G9Q4CcoCEatri_WVtycCH4xNDRdK8sTd-we3W57FS459IHB4vT4ctgavoLm/s1600/1011613_546341192081910_1432201803_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZLrP3X2liGJsvIo2Z0NLPlYg654XoYjjJadbp2HyNjlr7EAHNFoY0RcOH9GMyyRbX5F40CCzIyzkiwdM-G9Q4CcoCEatri_WVtycCH4xNDRdK8sTd-we3W57FS459IHB4vT4ctgavoLm/s400/1011613_546341192081910_1432201803_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amazing pic of an Amazing girl by an Amazing <a href="http://www.brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Photographer </a></td></tr>
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<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-5561391384130290182013-10-10T06:00:00.000-07:002013-10-10T06:53:17.470-07:00Make It Worth Their While<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><b>After five years</b></span><span style="text-align: left;"> of Jillian I have come up with a few tricks and noticed trends in how she comprehends the world around her. The learning tool she uses most is </span><b style="text-align: left;">emulation</b><span style="text-align: left;"> or watching what others are doing and trying it out herself. Because she absorbs most of what she sees (math is pretty difficult right now) I really try to only put things in front of her that I would like to see her put into practice. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signing "Mom" for the first time.</td></tr>
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When she was learning to communicate, we played <a href="http://signingtime.com/" target="_blank">"Signing Time"</a> DVDs constantly. Children with Down syndrome are born with <b>low muscle tone</b>. Our tongues are just a muscle that we learn to manipulate to form specific sounds, most of which when combined, form into words. Because she lacked control over this necessary speech tool, yet was wanting to interact with those around her, we surrounded her with opportunity to learn. Learn is exactly what she did. Not only did she gain around 400 signs but she observed and identified her written alphabet as well. It is <b>a little surprising</b> when you special needs child points to a wall in her sibling's school and announces "H" and is correct. After naming a few more letters I found she had a skill I had not been practicing with her. It was all due to emulation. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mirror and our friend</td></tr>
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Even when she is all by herself she emulates. Jillie, as with many who have Down syndrome, is <b>enthralled with her reflection</b>. Early on in her speech therapy career we learned she would not actually speak to her therapist. Give her a mirror, or any other shiny item, though and it was difficult to keep her quiet. Our solution, mount a full length mirror sideways beneath a window. That provided enough room for Jillie, her therapist as well as any brother or sister who chose to accompany them. I have some great mirror stories and uses I will post at a later, reflection specific, date.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Morning</td></tr>
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Often times Jillie watches what people are doing around her and links a response to an action, but she doesn't quite know why the action elicits the response. Take Christmas morning a few years ago. Jillie was three at the time and her brothers and sisters were excitedly opening their gifts. She learned the <b>expression of amazement</b>. The only thing is, she would tear one strip of paper off of her present, revealing a minute portion of the package beneath, and respond, mouth and eyes wide open. She had no idea what was in the box but she knew what to do. Laughing right along, we all then chose to respond in a like manner.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZF2yUhSlC_udwhN0AxPwSfXsjc7_ATVLThcnSiCQHOCAJi-zXkCnQL0qznPDhkOC7MViaIODSsFgPmcSwtpT9rg-3gEIl2cEhjujuNVSbjo0Sqesdx8tXPgvYx8l-GEsKxD4m03Fl1o3A/s1600/2013-10-02+17.45.13.mp4" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZF2yUhSlC_udwhN0AxPwSfXsjc7_ATVLThcnSiCQHOCAJi-zXkCnQL0qznPDhkOC7MViaIODSsFgPmcSwtpT9rg-3gEIl2cEhjujuNVSbjo0Sqesdx8tXPgvYx8l-GEsKxD4m03Fl1o3A/s400/2013-10-02+17.45.13.mp4" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFtfk0bZVRM" target="_blank">"The Cup Song" in Irish Gaelic</a></td></tr>
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Being the youngest of six, Jillie spends a lot of time watching her <b>brothers and sisters</b>. That in itself is great therapy, she wants to be just like them. She tends to pick up on what is trending with them. I have watched Jillie compete in "Just Dance", row an erg (rowing machine), and attempt a scooter all from observing her siblings in action. One of my favorite things to watch is Jillie and her red Solo cup, while she is watching a YouTube video of the song that has all the world's preteens and teens tapping and twirling the popular drinking device.<br />
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My advice for our special needs and typical kiddos is to place before them what you want to see in them. Whether it's TV shows, DVDs, video games, friends, siblings, or mirrors, our children look to external influences for cues on what to do next. <b><span style="font-size: large;">Make it worth their while.</span></b></div>
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-6228887332749120142013-10-08T10:05:00.001-07:002013-10-24T23:20:56.431-07:00We Had No Idea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Have you ever </b></span>seen a photo from your past that makes you pause and think, "we had no idea what was about to happen in our lives"? I mean, we thought we knew, but in reality we had no idea. This is one of those photos.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAh9vUii-Rtj9oj1c7dQ8G29jOQ5iZjFuRBRe3DTBDreUMMeicoMm8htwKHYPSeonGBuqbihYGSIo3J17FlXMlV-OK1a35nBfbSogGqkKBg4SRgwblps-PEJKNbWoepVvxG5dzLBMB0S2t/s1600/Mickey+and+Schulzes+5x7sepia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAh9vUii-Rtj9oj1c7dQ8G29jOQ5iZjFuRBRe3DTBDreUMMeicoMm8htwKHYPSeonGBuqbihYGSIo3J17FlXMlV-OK1a35nBfbSogGqkKBg4SRgwblps-PEJKNbWoepVvxG5dzLBMB0S2t/s640/Mickey+and+Schulzes+5x7sepia.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Tonight, almost seven years later, this picture flashed across my screen saver and I realized, less than six weeks after it was taken we would have a newborn baby boy in our arms and eleven months after that we would confirm our pregnancy with child number six. <b>We had no idea. </b> In this photo, we were celebrating our new family, and taking our time to let everyone settle in. Angel and Alize had not even been in our home for a full year when this moment had been captured. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZZubpK5DDBEj-CGVfm1A1bQk8yUDEr1F5KTe7JWPUguKOtiv2uiRagdEHpuEI5kRy3bMiMoskZocXjfEL5JDB-rxidtrtJ74lpiJ5Hv94A8hjYBf19iczLAqN_NWntK7OZJXvur5k-c7/s1600/Emily+Disneyland+bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZZubpK5DDBEj-CGVfm1A1bQk8yUDEr1F5KTe7JWPUguKOtiv2uiRagdEHpuEI5kRy3bMiMoskZocXjfEL5JDB-rxidtrtJ74lpiJ5Hv94A8hjYBf19iczLAqN_NWntK7OZJXvur5k-c7/s320/Emily+Disneyland+bw.jpg" width="212" /></a>This was an occasion we had not pictured a year prior. Our venture into foster care did not involve permanency at all. The four of us had prayed over this decision and were <b>planning on loving children and crying when they left</b>. We had been happy with the family God had given us, but after two weeks as our first foster children, we offered Angel and Alize an opportunity to join our clan for life. They said yes and that is when our adventure really began.<br />
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I mentioned the year prior because, that is when our endevor into foster care came to fruition. After experiencing a situation at my children's school my heart was heavy. Having unsuccessfully approached the Hubster twice before, I told him again of <b>my desire</b> to do foster care. Surprisingly, "I think I could do that." was his answer. With that possibility we began to seek God's approval in the matter. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizjCIh55CXlf_xtdkQ_YWbLog23pLuWC-EJMkDRcJHbwebOCT1cQVDO-JCTixmWlKD-8b_0WE_DvzbkjIgvjX9R20hnQ-TaXp5yFKqqQjN80BZuUp5TgxOgIRIA5Eh5akn2kPtXWI16pR-/s1600/Eric+Disneyland+bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizjCIh55CXlf_xtdkQ_YWbLog23pLuWC-EJMkDRcJHbwebOCT1cQVDO-JCTixmWlKD-8b_0WE_DvzbkjIgvjX9R20hnQ-TaXp5yFKqqQjN80BZuUp5TgxOgIRIA5Eh5akn2kPtXWI16pR-/s320/Eric+Disneyland+bw.jpg" width="212" /></a><b>Prayers</b> had barely left our lips, it seems, when confirmation after <b>confirmation </b>began to appear in our lives. After a week or so of commercials, TV shows, friends, family and strangers unknowingly reinforcing the thought, the Hubster and I brought the idea to Eric and Emily. After all, they were the ones that would have to share their rooms, their toys, as well as their parents. Without hesitation, they were all in. I do recall the four of us continuing in prayer as the <b>evidence of God's response</b> was so overwhelming we felt anything but proceeding on that course would be against His will.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accident Aftermath</td></tr>
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One of our prayers consisted of the need for a larger vehicle than our current Dodge Stratus. <b>One week into that plea</b>, I was in an accident, on a road adjacent to our church. On that chilly morning a young woman and her friend proceeded to drive her lifted Tahoe right up my hood, stopping a dozen, more or less, inches from my windshield. As scary as that sounds, I felt 100% safe during the altercation. In fact my first thought was, "I wonder if this is how God is getting us a new car?" I immediately called 911, the Hubster, and our pastor (who arrived with a latte from our coffee shop) Sure enough, our seven passenger Town and Country was soon in our driveway. </div>
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Moments of my son rushing to acknowledge our discipline techniques of the wooden spoon and a baby in my charge crawling into the dog crate and sitting, quite contently, in front of our licensing worker, would make me cringe and the social worker chuckle. Instructors giving us the gory details of "the system" and the emotional baggage many children arrive with prepared us, somewhat. <b>Still, our prayers continued.</b> They continued but they evolved, no longer were we concerned with IF we were supposed to do foster care, instead we began to petition for the children and families we would be experiencing. We would regularly ask our Lord to prepare our hearts as well as the hearts of those whose relationships we were about to encounter. Little did we know, we were not the only ones praying about this.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRYvgPJ13IpCn2Z5Ai4-vNiAlsLvhpUvbNm2bwjowTj3hSZMdJDW116In28owvT-PxT6kbFwSoH_dhfQ782HdIPEY4pZ8-S0mG0VTe0WZYBJWevM-mWrotWimJog40CwHIbct0isn4GbB/s1600/Kids+in+jackets+bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRYvgPJ13IpCn2Z5Ai4-vNiAlsLvhpUvbNm2bwjowTj3hSZMdJDW116In28owvT-PxT6kbFwSoH_dhfQ782HdIPEY4pZ8-S0mG0VTe0WZYBJWevM-mWrotWimJog40CwHIbct0isn4GbB/s400/Kids+in+jackets+bw.jpg" width="400" /></a>A year of taking our time, filling out paperwork, sitting through classes, hosting social workers, having home inspections and living our seemingly busy lives brought us to December and our license for foster care being issued. After two "false alarms" and a full week of illness lingering in the four of us at the same time, January arrived, and later in the month, so did Angel and Alize. By mid February we were destined to become a <b>family of six</b>.<br />
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A few weeks past our decision to adopt, I was approached by my friend, the wife of one of our pastors. She began to tell me of a high school classmate of hers whom, she felt, <b>God had laid upon her heart to pray for.</b> Not having seen him in decades and not knowing his need, she was obedient to the conviction. My friend told me she had been praying for a year when we received who would be our newest family members, the niece and nephew of her teenage comrade. Our life choice was confirmed yet again, this time with a big, ol' exclamation point. "God has to have something big planned." I remember thinking.<br />
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Boy did He, and boy did He prepare all of the hearts involved. He paved the way for us to <b>"fall in love"</b> with our children's biological family, which happens to be a pretty big name in some circles of our area. He helped all of my children to have a third grandpa who would have dinner with us and come to our birthday parties. Our pastor was able to play guitar and sing hymns with him in the hospital before he died. My friend was assigned to be his nurse the night before he passed away. We were able to deliver peace that only God can provide to a man whose family had gotten out from under him.<br />
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We practically adopted the young woman who carried three of my children to term yet would lose them due to addiction. I was able to sit in a church office, our pastor answering her questions, <b>wiping away her tears and praying with her</b> for Jesus to be the Lord of her life. I was there to <b>help her</b> choose an adoptive family for her newest baby as her old life was not completely discarded after her commitment. I was there to <b>coach her</b> through the labor of her little girl she would be able to parent because her decisions had made positive strides. I was able to <b>encourage her</b> and stand firm when the options she chose pulled her right back into frightening habits as well as prison. I have been there to <b>pray for her</b> heart to be touched and fully transformed into one she can be proud of. I was there to <b>write her</b> after two years of our healing and show her what the repercussions were from turning away from the opportunities God had provided. I was there, quite recently, to open a letter streaming with optimism about life both present as well as when she is free from her consequences. I will be there to assist in her healthy journey or admonish her if she chooses otherwise. I love that I represent the hope that only God can give to her.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dedication and prayer following Joe's adoption.</td></tr>
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In no way were we expecting the experiences nor the relationships we have had. Our lives have truly been bustling since the moment the photo at the top was taken. Court, therapy, doctors, school, hospitals, more court, jail visits, made up a large portion of what felt like a roller coaster. We were standing in line, waiting for our seat while trying to predict the ride, only to find out it is much more scary, thrilling, and fullfilling than we had thought. <b>Foster care has meant much more</b> than loving on children and helping them heal. We have loved on grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, bio-parents, lawyers, social workers, therepists and adoptive families. Our existence has been an open book for all to see, experience, and touch. Healing is continually happening in our home but has become more about growing rather than escaping history. After holding on for our lives for seven years, our adventures have just begun to seem to level out. <br />
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We are now a family of eight that has a connection with our birth family only God could provide. There is no way either the Hubster or I could have imagined such relationships. We are truly thankful that our Lord, stirred the heart of an old, teenage friend and was <b>thinking of us.</b><br />
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-81616939508558446962013-09-30T20:00:00.000-07:002013-10-24T23:21:38.116-07:00My Child Can Help Your Child Shine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our friend, Ryan, loving Jillie in a way only he can.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of my favorite things to do</span> is read stories of teenagers who appear to have stepped out of their typical, self absorbed, roles, to do something that <b>amazes</b> and<b> inspires</b> the world around them. I especially love to hear about those who bless a peer who happens to have extra 21st chromosomes. The anecdotes of the team who allows a<i> </i><a href="http://www.downsyndromedaily.com/2013/08/high-school-football-down-syndrome.html" target="_blank"><i>special needs player</i></a> the chance to run the<a href="http://sports.yahoo.com/highschool/blog/prep_rally/post/Player-with-down-syndrome-scores-special-playoff?urn=highschool-323090" target="_blank"> <i>ball</i></a> and the those opposing who help him to succeed with points to show for it; the student voted to be <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/US/video/syndrome-student-named-homecoming-queen-14646933" target="_blank"><i>homecoming queen</i></a> or king even though their social and academic abilities may not be as strong as others in the student body; the boy with Trisomy 21 who is accompanied to<i> <a href="http://www.kare11.com/news/article/1024170/14/Wis-teen-with-Down-syndrome-lands-dream-prom-date-" target="_blank">prom</a></i> by the prettiest girl at the dance; the <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/02/03/daniel-gill_n_2601614.html" target="_blank"><i>wrestler</i></a>, chosen to compete with a young man with Down syndrome, that doesn't just lay down and let him win but makes the athlete work for his triumph, all <b>bring tears to my eyes</b>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My daughter, Emily and Ryan off to her school dance.</td></tr>
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<b>Yes</b>, my youngest has Down syndrome, and <b>yes</b>, I do have some uneasiness about her adolescence and that of those teenagers she will be exposed to. <b>My hope</b> is that our society will have matured a lot since the years I spent in middle / high school. <b>My hope</b> is these stories would inspire so many, at such a young age, and that bullying would be so rejected the children would resist such activity. <b>My hope</b> is, these stories would become the norm instead of the anomalies they currently are.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our sweet friend Jack with our sweet girl Jillie</td></tr>
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As <b>inspirational</b> as these videos can be, the stories are actually contained in the years prior to the event. The <b>character</b> development either inspired in, taught to, or experienced by these young people could be the content of a novel. A youth rarely just happens to do something edifying to others without first having some <b>life experience</b> to guide them in that direction. The source of such growth could consist of an amazing grandparent with an amazing life story, or a teacher who pays close attention not only to the academics their student is involved in, but also the world the student lives in. <b>Character strength</b> can be derived from experiences that we as adults don't even want to speak of, or the vesting of time into the service of others. A parent who sees periods of strife as opportunities rather than restraints lays the groundwork for hope in their childrens' lives as well as the ability to inspire others.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_JcUAHvM5zemPWUjoCLxeKiN7TmnZjVzc3w97kTD6dd5EvQYk8s9fQZzEVSt8nyGLlEgCG8V8lfd3pDKgPSGXRD4UNqskVCHBPDu1QrVRaliP3HfkcrkvDTJ1FBj9I5S6SetdCIOoYQjd/s1600/2012-11-28+09.57.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_JcUAHvM5zemPWUjoCLxeKiN7TmnZjVzc3w97kTD6dd5EvQYk8s9fQZzEVSt8nyGLlEgCG8V8lfd3pDKgPSGXRD4UNqskVCHBPDu1QrVRaliP3HfkcrkvDTJ1FBj9I5S6SetdCIOoYQjd/s400/2012-11-28+09.57.25.jpg" width="400" /></a><b>What happens next</b> could be the lead-in to a cover story. What happens next is my child giving your child a <b>moment to stand out from the crowd</b>. Unknowingly, Jillie will constantly provide those around her with <b>opportunity to enhance </b>their own attributes. She will learn, succeed, fail, love, laugh and live her life right beside them. <b> My hope </b>is that her life will inspire others to look at their lives. I not only look at my daughter as someone who is bursting with potential, but as someone who has the chance to share her radiance to <b>help those around her shine.</b>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-71285580765471237712013-09-18T20:30:00.000-07:002013-10-24T23:22:28.990-07:00What a day and it's only 9:30AM! <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gotta Love <a href="http://www.brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke Photography</a>!</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">It all began with waking up,</span></b> as every morning does, this morning was no different. The everyday thoughts were already brewing as I set my foot on the floor and lifted my hiney out of bed. What to wear and hairstyle choice were already decided upon as I would be joining Eric's girlfriend for a "hike" after the kids were all dropped off. I say "hike" because she was needing to tone it down for this late 40 something mom of six (I use the kids for an excuse a lot, it's hard to argue with.) So, yoga pants, tank top and a <b>baggy T</b>, because no one wants to see this body in just yoga pants and a tank top. <b>Hair up</b> into a pony tail, thankfully because it's time to touch up the silver strands again. With my designated walking tennis shoes and socks in hand, I left my sanctuary.<br />
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Next stop was my Keurig and the K-cup drawer. I dug around and found the <b>coffee</b> I like, (why I keep the rest of them is beyond me) pulled out my Tigger mug and internally mourned the fact that the handle has a hairline fracture that was more than likely caused by a <b>disgruntled child </b>with dishwasher duty. Thinking I would finish off the creamer I chose, I began to pour. I then realized the bottle would need to be returned to the fridge because draining it would wreak havoc on my much anticipated mug of satisfaction.<br />
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Now to the couch and my tablet and Bible app, ready to read a portion of today's One Year Through the Bible plan ( I think I started it in January 2012) Anyways, I believe we finished up Job today. Yay, I got tired of his know-it-all friends and what about that wife of his???? <b>God is good!</b><br />
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All throughout my<b> morning routine</b>, my mind is circling around the tasks of the day. What would dinner consist of? We have Jillie's IEP at school at 3:15 this afternoon. I need to get Mrs. ....., the babysitter directions to the house when we drop the younger four with her at the other campus because we won't have time to meet her at home. <b> Pizza </b>it is then, I won't have time to make anything decent before those who can, head off to church. Oh yeah, I have to meet the Hubster at the high school at twoish to drop my van off so Eric and Emily have a way home after rowing practice. That reminds me, tomorrow is <b>"Talk Like a Pirate Day"</b>, I need to make that pasta dish I promised for the crew's fundraiser at lunch time. Thank the Lord for crock pots! Today is church! That means it's Wednesday and the middles have <b>school picture</b> day, thankfully with our favorite photographer, <b><a href="http://www.brooke-photography.com/" target="_blank">Brooke</a></b>! Good thing the littles have until Friday. I have no idea what I want them to wear. Oh well, the checking account is depleted until tomorrow. We may not be able to buy the pics this year anyways.<br />
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The <b>Hubster</b> is finished making his lunch and heads down the hall to wake the troops. I hear each door opened as well as his "<b>Good morning</b> (insert name here)! It's time to get up." I keep an eye on the baby monitor to make sure Jillie actually gets out of bed. She does, whew, maybe we have a cheerful girl? OK, maybe not. We all piled on the BIG couch ready for <b>prayer</b>, announcements, to give and receive our morning hugs (most of us, Jillie is still moody) and it's off to get ready for our days. Wait, Angel, wear something nice, it's picture day! Allie you need to hurry because the dishwasher needs unloading! Joe, you get dressed quickly, no hanging out on your floor nakey. OK, Jillie, time to go potty. Yep, still cranky.<br />
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<b>Thankfully</b>, Emily loves getting Allie ready on days like this, one less thing on my plate. Eric is wandering the house looking for something? Keys, you can't find your keys to the car. Great, he may need me to drop mine off. One more thing to remember. Hug and kiss the Hubster good bye. <b>Band aids</b> for Allie's shoes, sure, go get some. Angel, help Allie with the dishes, she may take a while this morning. Did everyone take care of the dog? Ask Eric and Emily where your shorts are. They are the ones responsible to wash, dry, fold and get clothes back to their prospective owners. <br />
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OK, my breakfast, into the blender goes a banana, spinach, strawberries, sweetener and a couple drops of wild orange essential oil, now wait for the berries to thaw a bit. Sit to check emails. Joe has figured out how to tie shoes this morning and offers to help me with mine. Yay?! OK, I let him. He needs to feel big at times. Did you remember the trash Angel? Allie are you almost ready? Ok, thanks for braiding her hair Emily. My living room is looking like an laundry mat again. <b>Humph</b>!!! Because you all like apples, that's why I have a big 'ol box of them, and I hope to make applesauce soon. <b>Where is my coffee?</b> Time to add soy milk and make a smoothie. Yum, so refreshing and vibrant during the morning drive. Ten minutes until backpacks and van!!! Travel mug in the Keurig, open up the new creamer, I will finish the other later.<br />
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Found your keys yet? Nope, okay? Who will help get shoes on Jillie? Thanks Angel. I know, sister, but I have to brush your hair every morning. You will be OK. Turn out the lights and close windows and blinds. <b>BACKPACKS EVERYONE AND INTO THE VAN!!!</b><br />
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Grab my liquid breakfast, smoothie and coffee with a water chaser. Don't forget the purse, phone, keys, sunglasses and headset (I get too distracted if I have to hold a phone) <b>Out the door I go.</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTq6S_y_h7MyOI0qiEZyUHj1PPA0Qfh_AmQ1kLBrYZyTzN0UkfulhlChp34CgF4F8luoYyl_hupuhWU311EA-SBl1zi1fcrjOuMStE25cK4ELnz57a3fbtp0zAYrhcDyAEHskbuT7mn1zD/s1600/2011-10-11+18.00.57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTq6S_y_h7MyOI0qiEZyUHj1PPA0Qfh_AmQ1kLBrYZyTzN0UkfulhlChp34CgF4F8luoYyl_hupuhWU311EA-SBl1zi1fcrjOuMStE25cK4ELnz57a3fbtp0zAYrhcDyAEHskbuT7mn1zD/s400/2011-10-11+18.00.57.jpg" width="400" /></a>Backing the van out, so thankful nothing got spilled, this morning. Man! 188,000 miles, really? Oh well, <b>God has the perfect one lined up</b>. It's Wednesday, Angel's day to pray. Amen. Yes we can turn on the radio. Did someone grab Jillie's backpack??? Whew! Remember, Mrs. .... will be picking you up today. Quietish for a few miles. As we pull into the biggles school, "Mom, my stomach hurts." I think nothing of it, breakfast, thankfully, is provided at school, he must be hungry. Pull into the high school, oh yeah, you need my keys for the back of the van. That automatic door stopped working a long time ago, followed by the electric latch. Everyone say bye to Eric and Emily! Ok bye. Off we go to school number two.<br />
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"Mom, I feel like I am going to throw up!" Think quickly. Hand him a Target bag with tissues to absorb stuff. Think again, the bag may have holes, oh well. Pull over, get out of the van, pour out my big smoothie cup with only a few sips missing from it. Rinse it with the water chaser and hand it back to brother. <b>Call the Hubster</b> to inform him of this new event and get moral support. No answer, bummer. Jillie, will you share toast with Joe? Please, it will make his tummy feel better. Thanks sweet girl for sharing. How are you feeling mister? Good.<br />
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Ok, Joe pray for Alize, Alize pray for Angel, Angel pray for Jillie, Jillie pray for Joe. What? Ok Angel will you pray for Joe? Thanks. Whew 7:30, we are on time for breakfast! Off to the third school. Are you still felling good Joe? Good. Make sure you eat a cheese stick tomorrow morning before we leave. Oh my, I can't go on a hike. I need to be near my car, just in case. Out of the van you two. Darn, I accidentally dialed her, oops.<br />
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In the school, OK let's go hug Joe.<b> Oooomph, group hug!!! </b> Have a good day Joe! Oh yeah, this is what happened on the car ride in. Call me if you need me. I think he is just hungry.<br />
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Ok, Jillie's class. Oh, bagel day. Here she goes, digging into the cream cheese with her spork. Some battles I choose not to fight. What? Her teacher isn't here today? A family emergency? No IEP today? Ok. Yes, I can drive this other student home today. I will call the Hubster and therapists and tell them. Potty? Ok, let's go! Hello, sorry I didn't mean to call you. I am at the school with Jillie in the bathroom. I will call you back in a few. Ok, bye. Hello, Joe thought he was going to throw up in the car. I thought I would share it with you. Ok, thanks, bye. Wash your hands and out we go. Back to breakfast, here goes the cream cheese again. No, she's not playing <b>"See food"</b> she is trying to swallow.<br />
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Do you need extra help today? Ok, if you need me, <b>just call</b>.<br />
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Back to the van, man just over a quarter of a tank left. I hope it lasts. Hi, I have to cancel our hike today. I have to be able to get back to school quickly. I want to pay all of my attention to you but can't today. Can we reschedule? Let's plan on next Wednesday. Ok, bye. <br />
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Hi Hunny! <b>No IEP today</b>. Yep you can stay at work. Text the biggles and tell them you will pick them up. The next available date is in October. Jillie is getting what she needs for now. We have to do what we have to do. I will text the various therapists to inform of the change. Wow, it's 8:15.<br />
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Back to the Angel and Allie's school. Can you get a message to them that I will be picking them up. Thanks. Tell Mrs. ..... too. Thanks again.<br />
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I need to rethink dinner! <b> Left overs</b> it is!!!<br />
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I am hungry, time to go home. Make breakfast number two. <b>What a day, and it's only 9:30AM!</b><br />
I need to write this down.<br />
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---- typing ----<br />
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11:00 I need to head out to get Jillie. Get in the van, phone rings.<br />
Hello, I have to call the Hubster. Yes I'll text you back.<br />
Hi Hunny, can you get that time off again? <b>We have an IEP to go to.</b><br />
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Yes, it has been a day and hasn't stopped since.<br />
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<br />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-82263173124271055902013-09-15T08:38:00.001-07:002013-09-15T09:10:25.734-07:00Unexpected Changes (not necessarily my favorite)<b>Wow,</b> how things have changed in such a short period of time. A couple of weeks ago I was leading a "nose to the grindstone", "buckle down", "get the job done", "I can do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me," kind of life. Five weeks into school and we had <b>hit our groove</b>. I had literally, just broken down the curriculum our school had given us for Angel, and realized the goal we had set in our hearts and minds was achievable; when I received an email. School was implementing something for Angel that we had not discussed. Needless to say, <b>the hubster and I were concerned.</b><br />
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Earlier that week, my son had turned a corner and was finally on the <b>same path as I was</b>. The system <b>I had developed</b> seemed to be sailing smoothly. I finally felt, <b>I had mastered</b> the oversight of his education. That is where we were <b>derailed</b>. That is where, I came to the conclusion, that my God feels the need to keep me on an <b>uneven keel</b>. I am guessing it is because I may have previous history with some control issues. Or maybe it could be some issues I may have with trusting others to do what is essential. Needless to say, after a few minutes (OK hours) of emotional duress, I accepted, once again, that <b>I do not belong in the driver's seat of this life</b>.<br />
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So, <b>where does that leave me?</b> I am a mom, a mom with a son who desperately needs me to direct his life. I am a mom with a 17 year old who is madly in love and is approaching a whole new chapter in his life. I am a mom of a teenage, young woman who still looks to me for guidance in finding out just who she is. I am a mom of a naive, strong willed, beautiful daughter whose ten year old life is still magical. I am a mom of a six year old, powerhouse of a firecracker who thinks I am the most amazing person he knows. I am a mom, of a child with special needs who will need me, in some manner or another, her entire life. How do I handle all of these lives and not know what tomorrow holds?<br />
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Knowing his IEP was a couple of days away, we began to stratagize and figure out options in regards to the email. We walked into the room ready to fight for what we believed was best for Angel. We left that room knowing the outcome of the two hour meeting was perfect for him and that all eight people in that room were on the very same page. Our complication was, what had previously been approved by the state, had been removed by the state. <b>A choice needed to be made,</b> full time homeschool or full time back to school. Beginning Monday, Angel would be back in school with a very, busy schedule. He would have very little opportunity to make poor social decisions while having all of the support and encouragement he needs to succeed. One thing our principal put into play is Friday's off. Soon to be the envy of the entire school, our son would still be afforded the time he needs to be strengthened emotionally and to continue bonding with his forever family. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8fg3h_HTRzvCvpLNQo2VvEIYBT9zLqNpAMelW1e40gur1GWm4EcyIxZkvlvd5Il6CWSEqpncUETmGukiYt7dRCdHzGvu6F7icONLKFHitaLoHvLgNNRN6YJi7ajmfbzBM_OIixpLDNVK/s1600/2013-08-29+17.39.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8fg3h_HTRzvCvpLNQo2VvEIYBT9zLqNpAMelW1e40gur1GWm4EcyIxZkvlvd5Il6CWSEqpncUETmGukiYt7dRCdHzGvu6F7icONLKFHitaLoHvLgNNRN6YJi7ajmfbzBM_OIixpLDNVK/s400/2013-08-29+17.39.05.jpg" width="400" /></a>Now here we are, a week back into school and a few days after Angel's 13th birthday. He is loving his classes, the teachers are loving him, and I am loving the unexpected three hours, four days a week of "me time", something I haven't had in over eight years. I love that everyone involved became committed, no matter what, to lift Angel above his issues. I love that everyone sees my son's true potential. I love, that, even when I think the control is all mine, my Lord still has His hands on my life and, if I listen, <b>He will guide me.</b><br />
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So, <b>where does that leave me?</b> It leaves me in the best place possible. You see, there is a saying popular in the circles I hang in...<br />
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<b>"I may not know what tomorrow holds, but, I do know Who holds tomorrow."</b></div>
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Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6822458381800864828.post-63349255590673553112013-09-09T09:08:00.000-07:002013-09-09T09:14:47.202-07:00Today, I wrote a letter.<b>Today, I wrote a letter...</b><br />
A letter that had been <b>waiting </b>a couple of years to be sent.<br />
A letter to someone who, I am sure, has been <b>waiting</b> to hear from me.<br />
A letter that in no way can <b>express</b> the events nor the emotions that have occurred since the last we spoke.<br />
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Today, I wrote a letter to a young lady who entered my life in a very <b>unexpected</b> way. I never would have thought she would have become so <b>important</b> to me personally. I am sure, she never thought she would ever be appreciative of me. <br />
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This young lady has taught me more about <b>God's love, mercy and grace</b> than anyone else. She helped to teach me that He views each of us as the same as well as individuals. Her life has shown me <b>His hand directs us</b> all even when our priorities are farthest from Him. <br />
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I have seen <b>God guide</b> the hearts of others into prayer, because of her. I have seen <b>God strengthen</b> people because of her. I have seen <b>God encourage</b> the lives of others because of her.<br />
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Today, I wrote a letter to the mother of three of my children. <b>Accepted </b>by us as family a few years ago but confined due to her choices less than two years since.<br />
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My letter reminded me of how much I <b>love </b>her. It reminded me of the <b>hope</b> God has given me for her. It reminded me of just how <b>strong</b> I am when I am in His will, as well as how weak I am when out of it. It reminded me to <b>continue</b> to pray for her, for her family as well as for myself and for my family.<br />
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<b>My hope</b> is that the woman I prayed with to accept Jesus as her Lord and Saviour would be so strong in her walk when she is free. My hope is that right now, even though bound, she knows just <b>how free she truly is</b>. My hope is that my children will be given the chance, once again, to <b>reunite</b> with her as a part of our family, as well as to be <b>proud </b>of what they are made of.<br />
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I ask all who read and believe to hold this young woman up in prayer. I see such potential in her and her future. I hope, one day to introduce you all to her as <b>the success that I know she can be.</b>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08384907185069037929noreply@blogger.com0