tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68305838331071667642024-03-19T17:54:36.503-04:00Everyday ImperfectionsJanelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-79778702514463256082013-07-26T23:35:00.001-04:002013-07-26T23:35:15.198-04:00Parker: A Birthday Story<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tomorrow marks the one year celebration of my son’s birth.
ONE YEAR. Never has 365 days disappeared so quickly. This time around, I tried
my best to breathe in each moment. To bury my nose in his hair and inhale the
sweetness. Slowing time as best I could and not wishing the baby away. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My baby.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So here we are. Inching closer to toddler every day. Literally
crawling away from the baby stage. {And
this kid can MOVE.} </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On this last day before the big ONE, I thought it apropos to
finally tell Parker’s birth story. It’s been in my head and replayed many, many
times but in the past 364 days I haven’t taken the time to sit down and put it
on paper. (er, screen.) And I need to.
Parker deserves to have his story told.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My due date was July 30<sup>th</sup>. Everything was on track
and the baby was healthy. A son! For all of my married life I had wished for a
boy. <b>Something in me itched to experience what raising a boy is all about.</b> I
wanted the mother-son relationship and all its glorified hype. After all, I’d
had a boy’s name picked out since high school. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Parker. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Strong. Masculine. Suitable for both a little boy and a grown man.
Thankfully Matt shared my affection so there was no question when the
ultrasound tech said, “It looks like it’s a boy!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Parker James. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">James after Matt’s grandfather. Our small way of paying
tribute to a man whose love for God and family was constant and unwavering.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As the end of July approached, I was over being pregnant.
Ready to meet this little guy and try my hand at raising two kids. (If only I
had known how much </span><a href="http://everyday-imperfections.blogspot.com/2013/01/sigh.html" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">life would change</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">, maybe I </span>wouldn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> have been in such a
hurry!) </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I scheduled an induction for my due date which was a Monday,
but then decided to bump it up to July 27</span><sup style="font-family: inherit;">th</sup><span style="font-family: inherit;"> which was a Friday.
Earlier is better, right?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We made
arrangements for Aubrey to stay with my parents while we were in the hospital.
We took her to their house on Thursday evening since we had to be at the
hospital at 7 am the next morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Matt and I returned to an empty house and spent the evening
watching </span>TV.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Why we decided to stay up until 11:00 I’ll never know. It </span>wouldn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> be long before we both came to regret the late night! At 2 am, I woke up and
had to pee. As I lay in bed, I suddenly felt something vaguely familiar and
decided it was best to hurry to the bathroom. Before I could sit down, I knew
my water had broken. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">All I could do was laugh. Here we were – same scenario as
the <a href="http://everyday-imperfections.blogspot.com/2010/04/arrival-of-aubrey.html" target="_blank">first time</a>: A scheduled induction and my water breaks on its own! God’s perfect timing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I woke Matt and told him we needed to get up and ready to
go. Poor guy </span>didn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> realize it was 2 am. He thought it was the regularly
scheduled wake-up time of 6:00. After a few seconds my words were sinking in
and he realized it was literally GO time. The irony in all of this is that just
a few days prior, Matt had admitted to me that part of him wished I’d go into
labor on my own so we could experience the whole “rushing around to get to the
hospital” thing. To him I now say, be
careful what you wish for! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I called the doctor while Matt packed his bag. Dr. Rosado
was on call and when I told her what happened, she laughed too! She told us to head to the hospital and she
would see us there. Matt stuck his head around the bathroom door, “Do I have
time to take a shower?” Umm… if you can
make it quick! I bustled around the house with a towel wrapped around me,
trying to do last minute things but not really getting anything done. I typed
up a quick text and sent it to our families: “2am and my water broke! We are
heading to the hospital a little earlier than expected.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our drive to the hospital was fast and dark. Thankfully
traffic is minimal at 2:30 in the morning. My contractions were becoming really
painful in the car. Matt dropped me off at the emergency room entrance and the
nurse asked how far apart my contractions were. I told her 2-3 minutes. She
said, “Maybe we </span>shouldn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> wait for your husband. I think I need to get you
upstairs.” They sat me in a wheel chair and pushed me toward the elevator.
Thankfully Matt caught up just in time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was hooked up to all the monitors, got my i.v. – I knew
this part of the routine. Dr. Rosado came in to check me – 3-4 cm. They still
had to get two doses of antibiotics into me (one hour apart) since I tested
positive for the strep bacteria. Hopefully they would have enough time! I laid in the bed, uncomfortably, for an hour
or two. I progressed slightly to 5-6 cm. I told the doctor that I was hurting
pretty badly and to let me know when I could get an epidural. “Oh, you want an epidural? I’ll send for it
now.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">THANK YOU. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dr. Rosado came back in a few minutes later to tell me that
I was getting the BEST anesthesiologist on staff and he would be up soon. By
6:30 he was there and the epidural was in. I had a little more trouble with it
this time – my left side was more numb than my right. I started shaking from
feeling cold and was very itchy. All normal according to the anesthesiologist
but a little unnerving for me since I didn’t experience any of that the first
time. They had me lay on my right side to better circulate the medication. Finally I started feeling relief. I rested as
best I could for an hour or so, but soon started feeling sick. Lord, I did NOT
want to throw up. I asked for a fan to help cool me down and I was given a
bucket. I tried to relax by taking deep breaths. The feeling was
passing…slowly, slightly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Around 8:15 the nurse came in and I told her I was still
feeling nauseous. She said, “Let’s check you to see where you’re at.” She
looked up and smiled, “You’re complete. You’re at 10. Let me get Dr. Molloy.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I prepared myself for what was about to happen. I recalled from
memory my first labor and delivery, reminding myself of the motions I needed to
go through. I knew what I had to do. Dr. Molloy arrived; the preparations were
ready for Parker’s appearance. Now there was work to be done. The first contraction started. “Okay Janelle
– PUSH!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">1…2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10 and breathe... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dr. Molloy spoke calmly, “That was good. But you don’t need
to push that hard. Let’s go again.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>Don’t need to push that hard?!?</i></b> Sounded good to me! </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I pushed a second time, with a little less oomph.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dr. Molloy shouted, “Yes – that’s perfect! He’s
RIGHT here.” </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I pushed a third time. His head was out. After a second of
positioning, the rest of him slid out too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At 8:26 am Dr. Molloy laid the pink wrinkly babe on my
stomach. There he was – Parker. James. Allen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Aside from swallowing a lot of fluid, everything was perfect
with this little guy. Ten fingers, ten toes. Matt cut the cord and they wrapped
a blanket around him. I got to hold him for a while before they took him to
weigh him and clean him up. I relished this time. With Aubrey they whisked her
away as soon as the cord had been cut – I </span>didn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> get all that time with her
right from the start. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0AXN-CjQMDLXGw7CaB4FKjv8eJ799KfoUTxaDhbxl40qpvY0AStcvmJm1dN6UY45e50c-MN838Pnu8ea_DqnogJmdJrOPx7jCR6K_TvEDYQp6Guho0HriPktla6dYEMqwvfWMyylXrkB/s1600/IMG_6472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0AXN-CjQMDLXGw7CaB4FKjv8eJ799KfoUTxaDhbxl40qpvY0AStcvmJm1dN6UY45e50c-MN838Pnu8ea_DqnogJmdJrOPx7jCR6K_TvEDYQp6Guho0HriPktla6dYEMqwvfWMyylXrkB/s1600/IMG_6472.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I lay in the bed cradling my newest love, I was so
bewildered by how quickly everything had happened. Six hours of labor and five
minutes of pushing. <b>God is good!</b> I </span>couldn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> believe it was over and he was
here. Throughout the rest of the day I
continued to shake my head in disbelief that 9 months of preparation had ended
in such a short time. And now a new
beginning. A family of four. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was a little more prepared this time around, felt a little more confident, knowing what the next few days and weeks would look like with a newborn. What I </span>wasn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> prepared for was how full my heart would become in watching my daughter
interact with her baby brother. The two of them certainly share a bond that is
unshakable. Each day it grows stronger. One misses the other when they’re gone.
She entertains him. Keeps him busy. Makes him laugh. Teaches him. Mothers him.
Oh how she mothers him. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx42ej5FE2o-zdmfbeMb9U8R-BTNd8ZqWpSkV-pJx2xIMO74mntoqHN4PCN6O2Pe6i6HSeq9keqT6M2p-CZWkiEKk7shkpWc5hbC0XhEZrTK2-ytKmWdDWfUd2vwiRMkG9FCnHV2oMs3xj/s1600/IMG_6478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx42ej5FE2o-zdmfbeMb9U8R-BTNd8ZqWpSkV-pJx2xIMO74mntoqHN4PCN6O2Pe6i6HSeq9keqT6M2p-CZWkiEKk7shkpWc5hbC0XhEZrTK2-ytKmWdDWfUd2vwiRMkG9FCnHV2oMs3xj/s1600/IMG_6478.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I reflect back on that Friday in July when Parker James
entered our world, I smile. I smile
because I know how lucky I am. My life overflows with joy and love. </span>I've<span style="font-family: inherit;"> got my
girl and my boy. God granted me the opportunity of a lifetime by giving me the
title of mother to Aubrey and Parker. <b>God gave them their heartbeats. Then He made them mine. </b></span></div>
Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-71848787708836473552013-06-18T12:04:00.002-04:002013-06-18T13:02:51.439-04:00Behind the Scenes: Second Child Sticker Shock<a href="http://crystalstine.me/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="crystalstine.me" src="http://i1083.photobucket.com/albums/j389/cstine06/linkupbutton.jpg" height="125" width="125" /></a>Hey y'all! I'm joining the beautiful <a href="http://www.crystalstine.me/2013/06/behind-scenes-tea-party.html" target="_blank">Crystal Stine</a> for her "Behind the Scenes" link-up today! Come join in the fun - pick one of your most instagram-worthy photos, <span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;">but give us the real story. </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;">The sneak peek behind the scenes, a look past the edges of the photo to the real life behind it. </span></span><br />
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<b>The Photo</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87SWPVJqI7s9clUhJMavGtm-wI9IkkjOKWGb9pAo4xAi9syOIqhiZ3meBq8WQWUbvCMQIMVaewpOKg-FziHR7rlyS_hP1NOF8m47weivF6gmw0zJ4eXP1ETtSiJwsQ4YkRSmGvGa31jmn/s1600/Parker_tissues.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87SWPVJqI7s9clUhJMavGtm-wI9IkkjOKWGb9pAo4xAi9syOIqhiZ3meBq8WQWUbvCMQIMVaewpOKg-FziHR7rlyS_hP1NOF8m47weivF6gmw0zJ4eXP1ETtSiJwsQ4YkRSmGvGa31jmn/s1600/Parker_tissues.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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This boy. </div>
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My baby. </div>
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My mess-maker. </div>
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My heart beat. </div>
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He makes me laugh every day. It's hard to believe that just a few short months ago I was crying in frustration over this child. A newborn who wouldn't sleep anywhere other than his swing. A babe who wouldn't be soothed by anyone other than his Momma. A little guy who, it seemed at the time, <a href="http://everyday-imperfections.blogspot.com/2012/09/a-good-excuse.html" target="_blank">loved crying more than anything else in the world</a>. In those fleeting moments, I thought for sure that this is how it was going to be for the rest of my life. <b>I shuddered to think of a five-year-old sleeping in a baby swing.</b> I cried out to God, evening after evening. Bone-tired from the endless walking in circles around my living room trying desperately to comfort this wailing thing in my arms. I questioned God's reasoning for giving me a child like this. I questioned my sanity in praying for a second child. My husband nodded his head as if to say, "Don't blame me!" My three-year-old cried because the baby was crying. </div>
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And I cried, too. Again. </div>
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<b>How easy it is to lose sight of the big picture when in the throes of child-raising.</b> Down in the gritty, gut-wrenching depths of sleeplessness and never-ending tears. Knee-deep in diapers and a baby who is still trying to learn how to nurse. </div>
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Now I've blinked and the tiny baby is gone. The crying has passed (for the most part). Smiling has taken up residence on his round little face. He's perfectly content to play with big sister or Daddy (though Mommy still has the magic touch). He sleeps for 12 hour stretches <b>in his crib </b>without so much as a peep. </div>
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As we near the one-year celebration of this bouncy blessing, it's easy to forget where we started. <b>The sticker shock of a second child will fade away.</b> I already have trouble remembering what life was like with just one. An easy one at that. I'm thankful for God's goodness in giving me two children. He knew what He was doing even if I didn't. </div>
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Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-1655428656476096372013-06-04T23:09:00.001-04:002013-06-04T23:09:15.232-04:00Behind the Scenes: Is This a Photo Shoot?<a href="http://crystalstine.me/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="crystalstine.me" src="http://i1083.photobucket.com/albums/j389/cstine06/linkupbutton.jpg" height="125" width="125" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm linking up today over at <a href="http://www.crystalstine.me/" target="_blank">Crystal Stine's</a> place for her first ever "Behind the Scenes" Link-up!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;">A chance to give readers a</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"> sneak peek behind the scenes, a look past the edges of our edited, pinterest-worthy photographs to the real life behind them. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0bDivr6BQi50sFLaVmjhYSAef176VCfgFt0r9zHnc7O-u-_HQfVnlk3M3XyKZvGpcWY4qkMf3EpZXz-iMio8dpRQ4fubQ93rMRlb_mx4ljqNlVqyjDR0hyphenhyphenJrxoVwpABQL2kS_M-f4i1Nf/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0bDivr6BQi50sFLaVmjhYSAef176VCfgFt0r9zHnc7O-u-_HQfVnlk3M3XyKZvGpcWY4qkMf3EpZXz-iMio8dpRQ4fubQ93rMRlb_mx4ljqNlVqyjDR0hyphenhyphenJrxoVwpABQL2kS_M-f4i1Nf/s1600/photo.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
For those of you who don't know me, I have a slight case of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. (Totally self-diagnosed.) I'm a neat freak. Organization makes me happy. <b>When a person walks into my home, I want them to think they've stumbled upon a photo-shoot for Pottery Barn.</b> Walking into a tidy, picturesque room is like a breath of fresh air for me. It gives me life.<br />
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But do you know what else gives me life? My kids. Family. Laughter. Lasagna and garlic bread crumbs spilled all over the floor after dinner. Apple juice drops dried on the tile floor. These things give me life because they ARE my life.<br />
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I've had to loosen my grip on having order in my home. I've had to give in to dirty dishes piled high by the sink (and let them sit there overnight). Because, at the end of the day, when there's just enough light left to play one more round of freeze tag, I know where my priorities are. I want to grab what's left of the day and run with it. <b>I want to run with flailing, open arms toward my children, trying to catch their energy and praying it's contagious.</b><br />
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Yes. These moments give me life. I figure that in twenty years, I won't look back with fondness on my memories of standing at the sink, washing dishes. So the dishes can wait. My Pottery Barn photo shoot can wait. Right now, I'm living LIFE. Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-86433022492888113762013-01-22T15:47:00.000-05:002013-01-22T19:59:59.625-05:00Time Flies When You're...OutnumberedSigh.<br />
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My life is a blur these days.<br />
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Granted, a mostly joyous blur filled with giggles and slobbery kisses and tiny baby socks. But a blur nonetheless.<br />
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I SO want to get back into writing regularly. My mind yearns for a creative outlet. I miss sharing my thoughts on parenting. My failures. My triumphs. I long to come to this space and be honest about life as a mother. But most days after feeding, wiping, running, tickling, feeding, dancing, laughing, feeding, rocking, story-telling, and more feeding, I barely have enough energy to hold a conversation with my sweet, patient husband let alone sit down at my computer and "let the creative juices flow".<br />
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Today I decided to steal a few minutes for myself while my 3 year old naps and my 6 month old grows impatient on the floor for some attention.<br />
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And yes, I said 6 month old.<br />
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One might ask, What has having two kids taught you? My short answer: Having a second child has taught me that I know <b>NOTHING</b> about parenting. I'm just as clueless as I was the first time around.<br />
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I've been told that all children are different, but <a href="http://everyday-imperfections.blogspot.com/2012/06/making-room-in-your-home-and-heart.html" target="_blank">I didn't understand the depth of that statement</a> until I had two to compare. Night and day, these two. Cut from the same genetic mold, yet not one similarity aside from physical appearances.<br />
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So I am learning. Every day. Learning what makes this little man tick. What he loves: cuddles, rocking, sleeping on his tummy. What he hates: bottles, being alone, Mommy eating chocolate.<br />
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It certainly is an adventure, this having-two-kids thing. It's not for the faint of heart {though sometimes I am} but I wouldn't trade my life for anything. No, this is where I'm supposed to be. In this very moment of life. In this mess. In this joy. Some days I might find time (and energy) to write. Some days I might not.<br />
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I'll leave you today with a quote about blogging that caught my attention. It's a quote from <a href="http://annieblogs.com/" target="_blank">Annie Downs</a> who also writes for <a href="http://www.incourage.me/" target="_blank">(in)courage</a>. She says, "The thing about blogging is that it is our real lives, it's just not the FULLNESS of real life."<br />
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Words of truth spoken to me today. I hope that you were blessed with some truth today, too.Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-62909988254162810972012-09-12T13:37:00.001-04:002012-09-12T13:37:46.206-04:00A Good ExcuseJust incase any of my tens of readers are wondering where I've been for the past two months, here is my excuse:<br />
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God has decided to trust me (<b>ME!</b>) with this tiny gift wrapped up as a perfect little boy. Parker James made his arrival on Friday, July 27 at 8:26 am. My post about his birth story to come later!<br />
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Now to the brutally honest part: this <i>baby</i> is kicking my butt! It took me two days to realize that my second child was nothing like my first. Nope. That would have been too easy (and I'm not that lucky). The good Lord chose to give me a challenge this time around. A crier. A constant eater. Nothing soothes but his Momma. And people, I. am. tired.<br />
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Thankfully, at 6 weeks he is growing out of the fussiness (thanks, in part, to figuring out that I can't eat chocolate while nursing - yes, you read that right - <b>no chocolate</b>.) And he is starting to show his sweet side. The smiling. The cooing. The cuteness. Sometimes I just melt!<br />
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These past 6 (almost 7) weeks have been an adjustment period. For all four of us. Figuring out how to mother two children, how to show my love to both at the same time without making one feel neglected. It's a whole new world. So I ask that you please bear with me as I continue trying to live my new life (and take care of a new life!) all while still cooking, cleaning, playing, cuddling, sometimes yelling, and generally running this ship called a family. I WILL get back to blogging. That is a threat, not a promise :)<br />
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In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed the photos of my little guy. God is good. Amen?Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-17154041580185812982012-07-05T14:12:00.000-04:002012-07-05T14:12:31.221-04:00The Little MermaidSo something <b>big</b> happened on our Fourth of July this year. {Aside from the fireworks.}<br />
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No, I didn't go into labor. {Was wishin' and hopin' though!}<br />
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But it was (almost) as equally exciting:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3WzjMb82LFzGzWnCQXQgcTcyDP03rHC7tVX0PPpJcpIalsr4i7OC9FhCWXfpo1FzMKvJZh-42d58KO_rUPX-IEJuGzAdh-NaaRjGJUY2pYMt4zV4k3BugOCd1I23FCSoTgiCj7kJRhrl/s1600/Aubrey_swimming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3WzjMb82LFzGzWnCQXQgcTcyDP03rHC7tVX0PPpJcpIalsr4i7OC9FhCWXfpo1FzMKvJZh-42d58KO_rUPX-IEJuGzAdh-NaaRjGJUY2pYMt4zV4k3BugOCd1I23FCSoTgiCj7kJRhrl/s320/Aubrey_swimming.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swimming on her own for the first time! </td></tr>
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Yes, my baby girl decided she didn't need Mommy or Daddy to hold on to her in the pool! Granted, she's not reached Olympic levels yet, but I was so impressed and overjoyed for her. If you know my daughter, you know that one of the words that best describes her is "cautious". This is the child that didn't walk until she was 16 months old. The child who cried when we went on the <a href="http://www.hersheys.com/chocolateworld/explore-great-american-chocolate-tour.aspx" target="_blank">Hershey's Chocolate World tour ride</a>.<br />
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So I was indeed cheering in my proud Momma moment.<br />
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Thankfully Daddy is an avid swimmer who has both life-guard and swim team captain titles under his belt. {Um, not to mention CPR and First Aid certification!} I am able to <i>relax</i> when he's in the water with her. I have no doubt that with a little more pool time and training, this little mermaid will be high-diving and butterflying in no time!Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-51437663226963611482012-07-03T10:06:00.000-04:002012-07-03T10:06:59.585-04:00The Final Countdown<span style="font-size: large;">A few things I'm looking forward to post-pregnancy:</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">36 week bump!</td></tr>
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1. Sleeping on my BACK! (Risk of suffocation = not worth it)<br />
2. Being able to <b>breathe</b> normally (speaking of suffocation...)<br />
3. Not opening the bottle of tums multiple times a day<br />
4. Fewer bathroom visits<br />
5. Enjoying a <a href="https://leinie.com/Beers.aspx#summershandy" target="_blank">beer</a> on these hot days<br />
6. Walking outside and not feeling instantly like I'm going to die<br />
7. Quality sleep -- oh wait.<br />
8. <b>Bringing a little boy into my home!</b><br />
9. <span style="background-color: white;">Losing the "waddle" </span><br />
10. <span style="background-color: white;">Having room on my lap for hugs, kisses, and cuddles</span><br />
11. Not feeling like a 90-year old when I get out of bed in the mornings<br />
12. Not feeling like a 90-year old when I attempt to get off the couch<br />
13. Fewer stomach issues (boy, that's a blanket statement.)<br />
14. More energy (I can hear you laughing right now.)<br />
15. <span style="background-color: white;">Watching my daughter "mother" her baby brother</span><br />
16. Eating a normal-sized meal without feeling like I will burst<br />
17. Not bumping into everything {and everyone} with my stomach<br />
18. <span style="background-color: white;"><b>Watching hubby bond with his new son</b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">19. Looking at my feet when standing</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">20. <b>Breathing in my new family!</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-87798024036029856642012-07-02T09:09:00.000-04:002012-07-02T09:09:37.650-04:00Don't Miss Your Chance<div style="text-align: justify;">
Someone I know passed away yesterday evening. We weren't close - I'd call her more of an acquaintance, but we were "friends" as defined by social media. We did have several mutual friends and had gone to Church Camp together when we were kids, but that's about it. Her passing wasn't sudden. She had been fighting Leukemia for the past year (maybe longer) and I would catch snippets of updates occasionally in my Facebook news feed. Over the past month those updates became more bleak. </div>
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What I keep thinking about most in hearing of her death is that I never sent her any messages of encouragement. <i>And I feel guilty about that</i>. I'm sure I whispered a few prayers for her, but I never took the time to tell her that I was praying. Never stopped to type out a quick, "Thinking of you during this difficult time<span style="background-color: white;">." No cards. No emails. Not a word. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">And now my chance is gone. </span></div>
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It makes me realize how fleeting the moments can be in which we have an opportunity to touch someone's life. Not just family and friends, but acquaintances and even strangers. How many people do you interact with in one day? Stop and think about it. Your spouse, children, coworkers, the cashier at the grocery store, the man on the street whose appearance is enough to make you tighten the grip on your purse. Without literally counting as I go through my day, I don't think I'd ever be able to come close to guessing.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">W</span><span style="background-color: white;">e make hundreds, if not thousands, of connections each day. Connections in which we, as Christians, can impact a life. That impact can be positive or negative. Or probably more frequently... neutral. I'm writing this today to remind not only myself, but each of <i>you</i> to strive for <b>positive impact</b>. Take two seconds and smile at the cashier. Whisper an encouraging word to the disheveled woman in the parking lot with three kids hanging off her limbs. Send a card {an actual piece of card stock with a pretty illustration} to say thank you to your child's daycare provider. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Offer to pray with a friend who is hurting. </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.livingmymoment.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/writing-photo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://www.livingmymoment.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/writing-photo2.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white;">The truth is, we might never know the effect that we have on a person just by smiling, jotting a note of appreciation, or voicing a simple prayer. But the bigger truth is that God does. He sees each chance we take for Him. Each attempt, no matter how big or small, to touch a life and allow a glimpse of Him to someone who might otherwise never get to see His face. His compassion. His grace. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Take a minute right now to think of someone who you can encourage. Whose day you can make a little brighter by letting the light of Jesus pour out of you and into their life. No matter how brief the moment, I guarantee the light will be blinding. </span></div>
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<br />Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-43567378114205564912012-06-27T15:56:00.000-04:002012-06-27T15:56:54.151-04:00Making Room In Your Home {and Heart}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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He's got me wrapped around his finger. A tiny curled-up finger that I have yet to see and touch. I'm spending more and more of my time thinking about the little boy that will soon make his appearance. And along with those thoughts come feelings of tentativeness, inadequacy, and unpreparedness.</div>
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You see, I've never done this before.</div>
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Oh I'm a parent alright. A Mommy. A weary baby whisperer. A boo-boo fixer. A tissue-wielding nose wiper. But I've never been a Momma of <b><i>two</i></b>. And that scares me. I take little comfort in knowing what to expect from a newborn - crying, diaper changes, moodiness (talking about myself on that last one). Granted, I've learned a lot in my two and a half years (parenting is more of an <i>accelerated</i> course). But looking forward as a Mother of two, I'm sailing into uncharted territory. I only know how to give attention and affection to one -- and she only knows what it's like to have Momma all. to. herself. I have settled in to life as a Mommy of one and I love it. I love <i>her</i>. She is so endearing, so well-mannered, so <i>perfect</i> {most days} that it scares me to think that I could mess everything up by bringing another baby home. Maybe that's why some parents only ever have one child. But when I look deep down inside myself, I know that I am not meant to be a Momma of one. I know that God wants more for me, more for our family. Aubrey deserves someone to share life with; to play with, to scheme with, and yes -- to fight with. It would be completely selfish of me to say I only want one child. I can't box God in like that and I can't deprive my daughter of the experience of being a big sister.</div>
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But how do you bring a helpless little human into your home who can do nothing for himself and not expect repercussions from the toddler who is still too young to understand that Mommy loves her just as much as she did two days before? I'm aware of what I <i>need</i> to do. Those things that books and other moms recommend to maintain feelings of inclusion and belonging. Yet that guilt sits on my heart like an elephant. It's not budging.</div>
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Mommas of two or more: <i>Does the guilt ease over time? </i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Then there is the other side of the coin - will this little boy receive as much time and care from his Momma that was given to his sister when she was born? The honest answer is probably not. I see it frequently with second, third, fourth children - less pictures, more handmedowns, less parental "hovering", more freedom to eat dirt/bugs/etc... I am fearful that because I'll be incapable of showing him the same level of attention that I showed to the first that he won't turn out the same. That he won't have the care-free, laid-back attitude as that of his sister. In reality, that might all be true. But I try to reassure myself that it won't be because of me or my actions, but because he is his own person. He will undoubtedly have a very different personality, not to mention the natural distinctions between girls and boys. This is a whole new person that I've got to figure out and get to know. And I'm fully aware that what worked for the first might not work for the second. What the first liked, the second might cringe at.</span></div>
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So these are the thoughts that fill my mind these days {and increasing number of restless nights.} And here I am: a soon-to-be Momma of two who occasionally doubts herself and is afraid. It certainly isn't the first time and I know it won't be the last. Thankfully I can cling to the fact that it's not all resting on <i>my</i> shoulders. I'm far from alone. I have an amazing helpmate by my side - my hunky knight in shining armor who played a part in creating these beautiful little people. And we are blessed to live within 15 minutes of both sets of grandparents as well as our siblings and their spouses. (Who, incidentally, are all gifted in the spoiling department.) </div>
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Then of course, there is Him. The One who created me. He knows my heart better than I know it myself. He created life within me and answered my inmost desires to be called Momma. It is only through Him that I know I can rest. I can breathe in the sweet fragrance of peace and reassurance that He is by my side continually. Eternally. Whispering encouragement. Propelling me onward with His strength when I can't muster enough of my own. And I can find solace in knowing that He <b>will not fail</b>. He will not falter -- even when I do. It is by <i>His</i> power and <i>His</i> annointing that I am the me I was meant to be. </div>
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 Corinthians 10:13</b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The Message </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-12205" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;">13</sup><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he'll never let you be pushed past your limit; he'll always be there to help you come through it. </span></div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-84047577472902187742012-06-23T22:10:00.000-04:002012-06-23T22:10:20.283-04:00Let the Battles BeginWow.<br />
That was hard.<br />
Took the wind right out of my sails. {Take deep breath here.}<br />
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What was supposed to be a fun-filled evening of fair food and fireworks with friends took an ugly turn when my dear sweet child refused to even <i>taste</i> a bite of hamburger. Luckily we had gotten the fair food to-go, so this unsightly train wreck took place in the comforts of our own home. But it didn't lessen the sting of standing my ground and backing my husband in this "Battle of the Burger".<br />
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In a showdown that lasted a good hour at least, we begged. we reasoned. we bargained. If we were birds, we would have chewed it up and forced it into her mouth. But in the end, the choice was hers.<br />
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She would. not. budge. <br />
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So I had my first <i>real</i> taste of watching my daughter experience the emotional pain of tough love. Oh the hurt that it caused in my heart. I would have given anything to take that away from her. To bring back her smile and an evening full of giggles. A thousand times I would have caved and let her move on to eating something else, but this was my husband's turn. He doesn't get to do much of the disciplining with me being the one at home all day, so when the opportunity arises I need to step back and let him take the lead. Our children need to grow up seeing Daddy and Mommy as a team. Not second guessing and undermining the other's decisions. So I had to let go of this one.<br />
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Despite our plans of watching some late-night fireworks (would have been Aubrey's first time) we had to rearrange the evening to accommodate an early bed time. She and I still got to read a few bed time stories, but I was reading through tears. Tears for my daughter who was hurting {through her own choices}, tears of questioning my parenting {was she old enough to understand?} and tears for knowing this is the first of <i style="font-weight: bold;">many</i> heartaches that will be cast on me as I finally understand what it means when a parent says, "This hurts me more than it hurts you."Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-52023296465148766452012-06-14T19:20:00.000-04:002012-06-14T19:20:36.642-04:00For the Love of Hats {FREE SHIPPING offer from Goorin Bros.}<div style="text-align: justify;">
What was I <a href="http://everyday-imperfections.blogspot.com/2012/06/inspiration-workshop-date-night.html" target="_blank"><i>just</i> saying</a> about the fabulosity that is <a href="http://www.goorin.com/" target="_blank"><b>Goorin Bros. Hat Shop</b></a>? Oh yes, that they are talented, top-notch hat makers. You'd only be doing yourself a huge favor if you looked into purchasing your very own <b>Goorin Bros.</b> hat. That is, of course, if you are a hat person. {It's kind of like being a cat person - they're not for everyone.} <b>Goorin</b> not only offers hats for men and women, but also for the kiddos! Here is what they have to say about themselves on their website:</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In 1895,
master craftsman Cassel Goorin sold his first hat off a horse cart in
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Cassel's sons – the Goorin Brothers – continued the
tradition of hat making when they moved the family business to San Francisco in
1949.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, Goorin Brothers is led by Cassel's great grandson who
remains dedicated to the art </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of bold hat making by crafting hats inspired by San Francisco's rich artistic
community.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cassel's legacy can be found in the detail and integrity of each
hat. For over a century, the authentic character of Goorin has
allowed individuals to tell their story without ever having to say a word.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Today through Sunday, they're offering </span><b style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">FREE SHIPPING</b><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> on </span><i style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">everything</i><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> (including sale items!) It doesn't get much better than that. To take advantage of the offer, just enter the code <b>VIP</b> at checkout. That's it! Easy peasy. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ms. Philly</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prohibition</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hound Dog</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.goorin.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/small_image/200x/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/1/0/v1/100-2580.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.goorin.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/small_image/200x/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/1/0/v1/100-2580.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lulu Vixen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.goorin.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/small_image/200x/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/1/0/v1/105-3347.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.goorin.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/small_image/200x/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/1/0/v1/105-3347.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady Liz</td></tr>
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Once again I must disclose that the opinions in this post are entirely my own. No compensation is being given to me to promote the Goorin Bros. brand. They simply make beautiful hats. <br />
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-small;">**Free Standard Shipping. Offer Excludes AK, HI, PR & Canada. Offer ends June 17, 11:59pm PT.</span></div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-83622177284340281362012-06-14T11:03:00.000-04:002012-06-14T11:08:09.594-04:00Inspiration Workshop: Date Night<a href="http://www.gussysews.com/inspiration-workshop/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Gussy Sews Inspiration Workshop!" border="0" height="125" src="http://www.gussysews.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/IW_button1251.png" title="Gussy Sews" width="125" /></a><b></b><br />
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<b><b>Today I'm linking up (for the FIRST time!) at <a href="http://www.gussysews.com/inspiration-workshop/" target="_blank">Gussy Sews</a> for her Inspiration Workshop. The prompt this week is DATE NIGHT. What do YOU do for Date Night? Do you have a favorite activity? A favorite outfit to wear? </b></b></div>
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Ah, the elusive Date Night. These days, I might liken it to a mythical creature whose existence cannot be proven. </div>
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Unicorn. Big Foot. Date Night. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmbPOsDDWbsUkJk7CIRWDQMoSSjYBB-KYzCiNa3alyNuBp81pv-w78NOsWxR54l2suOIXQinfeVbnQF1t9D6s7IdzcRRTQSGHB4oL2OM6SmStSTn7dCevVL-pm9ql7lFHQ4NrXPSAeG13A/s1600/Us_Florida_2008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmbPOsDDWbsUkJk7CIRWDQMoSSjYBB-KYzCiNa3alyNuBp81pv-w78NOsWxR54l2suOIXQinfeVbnQF1t9D6s7IdzcRRTQSGHB4oL2OM6SmStSTn7dCevVL-pm9ql7lFHQ4NrXPSAeG13A/s320/Us_Florida_2008.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt and me, pre-kids on vacation in Florida</td></tr>
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Date Nights have been few and far between in the last two and a half years since our daughter has been born. We typically save nights out for <i>extra</i> special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries. Even then, we're certainly not fancy about it. One of our favorite places to eat is a <a href="http://www.isaacsdeli.com/" target="_blank">local sandwich chain</a>. Occasionally we'll go to the movies, but at this stage in our lives practicality seems to win out and we find it hard to justify spending $20 when we both know we'd be much more comfortable at home on the couch watching a movie from <a href="http://www.redbox.com/" target="_blank">Redbox</a>. </div>
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So we <i>do</i> spend a lot of time at home -- with our daughter, but I think we're both okay with that. We enjoy family time in the place we have created together. And really, the babe goes to bed at 8:30 and we are night owls, so we get to spend several child-free hours together every evening! {As she gets older, I fully intend on telling her that Mommy and Daddy have pony rides and eat cake when she goes to bed.} </div>
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On a recent evening, after we put our daughter to bed, we went outside and <i>weeded our flower beds</i> together. I LOVED it! The quiet, cool air, lightning bugs floating all around us - two silhouettes working together to create something beautiful. Moments like that mean the world to me. Me and him. Just being together. It's always enough for me. </div>
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While I don't have any favorite <i>outfits</i> to wear when we DO go out, I <i>am</i> an avid hat-wearer. I love me a good hat! Here are a few of my faves: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV5zj2lzjcfc5EtIp0_Xy_Aozbuy1Dq53N6Ai3EbNbpyze_DlnzpSIIxSIkow85V3QN8LZxZAdxmM-TF4k5MQgB8cEv61Wy_Dfo6ErDWaW-PapQKmYbew7iC0HtWy0WHI-2JdcS0uelreY/s1600/brown_fedora.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV5zj2lzjcfc5EtIp0_Xy_Aozbuy1Dq53N6Ai3EbNbpyze_DlnzpSIIxSIkow85V3QN8LZxZAdxmM-TF4k5MQgB8cEv61Wy_Dfo6ErDWaW-PapQKmYbew7iC0HtWy0WHI-2JdcS0uelreY/s320/brown_fedora.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYom6C1CrchXQboGvChxV705WLsIhzAymujqJPxODKFXFEr44RaZ2n7KI4c1FwECqHNSERvPeUvLXKJEkK7u8Wi5GSBhNUHFBYNyFvyenc-yUt6-KrMCsubgIz9EC4bzeh2Ky0EHd8Iho/s1600/straw_fedora.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYom6C1CrchXQboGvChxV705WLsIhzAymujqJPxODKFXFEr44RaZ2n7KI4c1FwECqHNSERvPeUvLXKJEkK7u8Wi5GSBhNUHFBYNyFvyenc-yUt6-KrMCsubgIz9EC4bzeh2Ky0EHd8Iho/s320/straw_fedora.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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As a general rule, any hat from <a href="http://www.goorin.com/" target="_blank">Goorin Bros.</a> is a good hat. You can never go wrong!</div>
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<a href="http://www.goorin.com/skin/frontend/default/hellomix/images/logo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="52" src="http://www.goorin.com/skin/frontend/default/hellomix/images/logo.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="text-align: justify;">**The preceding opinion is entirely my own. I am not being compensated by Goorin Bros. or anyone else! I simply love their product. </span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></span>
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<br /></div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-80788461596177716212012-06-12T14:53:00.000-04:002012-06-12T14:53:04.544-04:00Movin' On Up...Well, we did it.<br />
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The big move.<br />
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It seemed like it would never get here. Months of work and preparation (mostly on my husband's part) finally paid off. We transitioned my daughter out of the nursery and into a big girl room -- and bed!<br />
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As excited as I was to create a new, super-fun place for a little girl to grow up in, I was equally anxious over how receptive she'd be of giving up the familiar comforts of the light green jungle-themed safe haven that she's known since being three weeks old.<br />
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Friends, let me tell you this: I worried for <b>nothing</b>. My child is so resilient, so carefree and flexible, saying she was overjoyed about moving into a new room is an understatement. This girl was downright over the MOON!<br />
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The only tears involved in this story are my own - those shed on her first night in the big girl bed. It was a shining "Mom Moment" as I like to call them. My tiny baby {who is no longer that tiny} had graduated from the crib and onto bigger and better things. sniff sniff.<br />
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I love this girl's personality and I love her enthusiasm about life! We are five days in and she is now telling <i>ME</i> when it's time for a nap and time for bed. While I know this will only be a {short} phase, I am savoring these moments!<br />
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Let's hear it for easily adaptable children!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bed!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhM1JVBm7qrC9BHrr0X1tRSz-s1XAD-sDRB5fmELcZ7Nzehov1WEvpiSXkfgH-ux3qL8nP64wYeAX_oHh59JPSE3VjGB3d0c16zsvQvOAL5wULMcSgaFGgwnBazfmb6ZQrD_dZQmSrMPm/s1600/Chest_of_drawers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhM1JVBm7qrC9BHrr0X1tRSz-s1XAD-sDRB5fmELcZ7Nzehov1WEvpiSXkfgH-ux3qL8nP64wYeAX_oHh59JPSE3VjGB3d0c16zsvQvOAL5wULMcSgaFGgwnBazfmb6ZQrD_dZQmSrMPm/s400/Chest_of_drawers.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chest of drawers and bathroom door</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwkFGbLdNiirxGeTilI8-rnBmNxwNWi2DJLOnTcy1N0C845QprxcIBvEhLGN2mvpRGAjR_P1R3UvDUhJBGNGInrmQfsmqI3kNQpFqtl0rIrtvvezdZmyCg8oXr8w6EXO3oNhHV1IAEXJjK/s1600/door_monkeyrug.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwkFGbLdNiirxGeTilI8-rnBmNxwNWi2DJLOnTcy1N0C845QprxcIBvEhLGN2mvpRGAjR_P1R3UvDUhJBGNGInrmQfsmqI3kNQpFqtl0rIrtvvezdZmyCg8oXr8w6EXO3oNhHV1IAEXJjK/s400/door_monkeyrug.JPG" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entry door and custest monkey rug ever.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_lUkTAv5OEE8tObVyKS2pwdC1GuK9PgOaO2ohbHh7VSDFE6ONAitbLtnAyAJxTsiXBkdYf8Pi0gxDn3pBNNQysVWhtbI67GOBepon-blS2F8-XhJayG6JTMVECP4yN-Qc323q6VDMQrS/s1600/window.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_lUkTAv5OEE8tObVyKS2pwdC1GuK9PgOaO2ohbHh7VSDFE6ONAitbLtnAyAJxTsiXBkdYf8Pi0gxDn3pBNNQysVWhtbI67GOBepon-blS2F8-XhJayG6JTMVECP4yN-Qc323q6VDMQrS/s400/window.JPG" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bay window and beautiful bench seat (built by my husband and Father-in-law!) </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZa7QbXUlxTuBveOR0D2kMrujBT63-eEj6iUjUevlfzC5oNyCiHAgSU6CgvHKmLOlCZp9pgQgF6YEzSR8lHLMzASUEchKQuDSSJm_CTKG_M4GUI5h1FbmnVIxT0SP7qGM78SFFGLXx_haP/s1600/Aubrey_BigGirlRoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZa7QbXUlxTuBveOR0D2kMrujBT63-eEj6iUjUevlfzC5oNyCiHAgSU6CgvHKmLOlCZp9pgQgF6YEzSR8lHLMzASUEchKQuDSSJm_CTKG_M4GUI5h1FbmnVIxT0SP7qGM78SFFGLXx_haP/s400/Aubrey_BigGirlRoom.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SO excited to sleep in her new room!</td></tr>
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For those of you wondering, the <i>adorable</i> white bird decals on the walls came from the talented Amber Shaw at <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/ababywall?ref=seller_info" target="_blank">A Baby Wall </a>on Etsy. She has a huge selection of high-quality products!<br /><br />
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<br /></div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-10636382349485520222012-05-31T10:57:00.001-04:002012-05-31T10:57:31.648-04:00Giving Up On Healthy Eating<b>Today I'm linking up with <a href="http://www.naptimediaries.com/" target="_blank">Naptime Diaries</a> and <a href="http://www.thetinytwig.com/" target="_blank">The Tiny Twig</a> to write about Giving Up on Good. Giving up something "good" for something BETTER. Oh, and on being able to give up the guilt of it all in the process! </b><br />
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Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. To a childless person these words probably have no adverse effect whatsoever. But for any parent whose child might be between the ages of 1 and 15, just the thought of those three words may cause the hairs on the back of the neck to stand up. For me, no other daily task has ever caused so much anxiety.</div>
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"Is the food healthy enough?"</div>
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"What can I make that she will eat?"</div>
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"Am I offering foods from all five food groups?" (As an aside, did you know that the food pyramid has now been changed to a <a href="http://kidshealth.org/kid/stay_healthy/food/pyramid.html" target="_blank">plate</a>? I learned something new today!)</div>
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"Chicken nuggets for the third day in a row - is that okay?"</div>
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"Why won't she eat this today? She liked it yesterday..."</div>
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"Can a cookie and bag of chips be classified as lunch?"</div>
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From the time she started eating milky rice cereal, I've worried. I have questioned my ability to nourish a growing child. But as the mother of a now two-and-a-half year old, I've learned that some things just aren't worth beating yourself up about. I've had to redefine my definition of "healthy eating". Where I was once concerned over her eating vegetables as part of every meal, I have surrendered to the fact that my daughter <b>will. not. </b>eat any vegetable other than potatoes. Which, let's be honest, is a starch. Not even a true veggie, people. </div>
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And then there was the phase where she only wanted Pop-tarts for breakfast. Oh wait. We are still in that phase. </div>
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Yes, I could become the mom who forces her kids to eat all their vegetables before leaving the table. I could only serve all-organic foods and never buy anything that is processed or contains corn syrup. But that's just not me right now. I'd rather spend my time playing with a care-free little girl (who is 100% healthy and growing just the way she should be) than fighting with a grumpy toddler at each and every meal. And here's a confession: Some days, we are lucky if we even sit at a table to eat. Breakfast while watching Dora. Lunch in the car. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihT6RVX8ioMlzLLOSD_h-VvnmirOKnhsr9j410ew2tEHNuNTsR2qqNA6L7ARgkktAxw9_lTZR5UqSG2QcyZYlJHHpdfgH5ORvQ_krSVcmQvbTRYgI5xNwSf_PdXrOwey9qF-1B4TqsCctd/s1600/chocolate_face.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihT6RVX8ioMlzLLOSD_h-VvnmirOKnhsr9j410ew2tEHNuNTsR2qqNA6L7ARgkktAxw9_lTZR5UqSG2QcyZYlJHHpdfgH5ORvQ_krSVcmQvbTRYgI5xNwSf_PdXrOwey9qF-1B4TqsCctd/s200/chocolate_face.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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So for now, I've given up on healthy eating and all the stress that comes along with it. Peanut butter bread for dinner? Sure! It's full of protein. Juice boxes? Yes! I buy the ones that contain a full serving of fruit and vegetables. Pop-tarts for breakfast? Hey, if it's what she wants to eat, that is okay by me. I've got bigger battles to face in life than Pop-tarts.</div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-22700367000392214822012-05-25T11:00:00.000-04:002012-05-25T12:45:16.979-04:00Fancy Friday Link Up: 12 Guests<br />
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<a href="http://lovefeasttable.com/blog/experience/fancy-friday/" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Fancy Friday"><img alt="Fancy Friday" src="http://lovefeasttable.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/ad-125x125-fancy-friday2.jpg" style="border-style: none;" /></a><br />
The beautiful ladies at <a href="http://lovefeasttable.com/blog/" target="_blank">LoveFeast Table</a> host a Link Up party every last Friday of the month called <a href="http://lovefeasttable.com/blog/experience/fancy-friday-lovefeast-table-link-up-party/" target="_blank">Fancy Friday</a>. <i>Everyone</i> is welcome to create a post and link back up to join the fun!<br />
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Today's prompt: What 12 Guests would you invite to your table for a BBQ?<br />
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The possibilities are endless. Admittedly, when I see the number 12, The Twelve Disciples is the first thing that pops into my mind. And while it would be pretty inspiring to gather round the table for a good old fashioned barbecue with the the hand-picked friends of Jesus, I think I'll go another route.<br />
So, here's a sneak peek at my guest list. Guests are in no particular order and - for the sake of technicality, I have chosen guests who are all currently alive:<br />
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1. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnny_Depp" target="_blank">Johnny Depp</a>. I would request that he attend as <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0325980/" target="_blank">Jack Sparrow</a> to add a little whimsy to the evening. Of course he will oblige because, well, he is Johnny.<br />
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2. <a href="http://www.owlcitymusic.com/" target="_blank">Adam Young</a>, aka Owl City. This man is talented. Hands down my favorite musician. God has blessed him with a beautiful gift and I love that he shares it (along with his unashamed faith in Christ) with billions of people.<br />
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3. <a href="http://www.history.com/shows/swamp-people/bios/troy-landry-s3" target="_blank">Troy Landry</a>, Swamp People. Hubs and I love Swamp People on the History channel. It's both kitschy and endearing and Troy exemplifies the show perfectly. His simple charm makes him my favorite.<br />
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4. <a href="http://hellogiggles.com/zooey-deschanel" target="_blank">Zooey Deschanel</a>. One word. Adorable. And she's got a sweet, silky <a href="http://www.sheandhim.com/" target="_blank">singing voice</a> to boot.<br />
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5. <a href="http://www.sesamestreet.org/parents/theshow/cast/kevin-clash" target="_blank">Kevin Clash</a>. You and I call him Elmo. Talk about inspiration. Kevin is not just brilliantly talented, but after watching the documentary, <a href="http://beingelmo.com/" target="_blank">Being Elmo: A Puppeteer's Journey</a>, it is clear that he lives to bring joy to each and every child he will ever come in contact with.<br />
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6. <a href="http://www.candiceolson.com/" target="_blank">Candice Olson</a>. Interior Designer featured on HGTV. Love her style, love her quirky personality.<br />
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{Let's cut to the chase, Candice. Please come redecorate my entire house.}<br />
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7. <a href="http://thegypsymama.com/about-2/" target="_blank">Lisa-Jo</a>, blogger. I've never met Lisa-Jo, but I feel like we are kindred spirits. I follow her blog, The Gypsy Mama. She has been more of an encouragement to me than she will ever know. Here is one of my favorite <a href="http://thegypsymama.com/2012/03/on-surviving-the-crush-of-the-morning-rush/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+thegypsymama+%28thegypsymama%29" target="_blank">posts</a>.<br />
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8. <a href="http://www.cbs.com/shows/big_bang_theory/cast/" target="_blank">Jim Parsons</a>. Making us laugh as the persnickety genius Sheldon Cooper on CBS' Big Bang Theory since 2007. Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur...<br />
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9. and 10. <a href="http://yellowdandy.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Joel and Karen Williamson</a>. Very dear friends who live in a galaxy far, far away (Perth, Australia, to be exact). You may not know them (or perhaps you DO), but they are hilarious and heart-warming and I miss them so much!<br />
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11. <a href="http://bethanyhamilton.com/" target="_blank">Bethany Hamilton</a>. Surfer. Shark Attack Survivor. One brave chick! If we could all turn our tragedy into triumph as she has done, the world would be a more positive place!<br />
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12. <a href="http://beargrylls.com/" target="_blank">Bear Grylls</a>. A little bit for Hubs as much as for me. And I'd definitely find something crazy and make him eat it.<br />
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So there you have it. My twelve. Subject to change on any given day or hour.<br />
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Who would be on YOUR guest list?Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-18621618807046585382012-05-23T16:19:00.000-04:002012-05-23T16:20:28.859-04:00Caution: Sleeping Dragon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes I have an ugly heart. It turns vicious and seething. I don't know what it is that makes me snap. My voice, cracking like a callous whip, lashing out toward my daughter. In these flashes of hot anger, I breathe fire upon this small, innocent girl - usually when she is merely playing and acting like a child should. And I know it hurts. It hurts me, so I <i>know</i> it hurts her. Words can sting. Tone of voice can cut deep. And after the flames have rained down and I'm left holding the embers, I shudder to look back on the damage that I caused.<br />
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Within mere minutes, she is back to playing and chattering at me like a little bird. But I replay the scene... I look inward with such disgust, I can barely stand myself. <b>I want to crawl out of my skin.</b> In those moments of cooling, I am humbled. Embarrassed for the way that <i>I've acted more like a child than she has</i>. My eyes well up and tears drip down my face, acting like some sort of sprinkler system. I don't want her to see me like this. I don't want her to see the shame rolling down my cheeks. <br />
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I don't easily lose sight of how I treated her nor can I undo it. The only source of healing I can cling to is an apology. Even though she may have moved on {possibly even forgotten about it already} I kneel down in front of her soft face and gaze into sparkling eyes. And I say I'm sorry to my two year old. I look at her, into her soul, with all the warm affection that I have in me and I tell her I love her. <i>THIS</i> is what I want her to remember. <i>THIS</i> is the lasting impression I want to make.<br />
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God, teach me grace, that I may show it to my children. Make me slow to anger, that they might see Your righteousness in me.<br />
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<span class="text Jas-1-19" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;"><b style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 15px;">James 1:19-20 NIV</b> 19 </sup>My dear brothers, <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV1984-30270A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup>take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV1984-30270B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup>and slow to become angry,</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"></span><span class="text Jas-1-20" id="en-NIV1984-30271" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;">20 </sup>for man’s anger <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV1984-30271C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)"></sup>does not bring about the righteous life that God desires. </span>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-26933784300594954092012-05-22T16:32:00.001-04:002012-05-22T16:32:36.100-04:00I Like a ChallengeDo you ever have those days when you are constantly on your feet, running in circles, yelling things like, "Don't touch that!" or "I don't want to see that in your mouth again!" Yeah. Me too. I am ragged and it's only lunch time. I even spent an hour (kid free) at the dentist - thankfully, I didn't have to yell at anyone while I was there :)<br />
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I don't know what it is that causes my daughter to turn into a tiny, hyped-up hooligan at times, but Lord knows I would pay money for an antidote. Can I be honest for a minute? ... Those types of episodes are really few and far between at our house. I am grateful for the laid back personality that she inherited from her father. But maybe that's what causes me to feel more stressed - because it's a behavior that I'm not used to.<br />
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Now, of course, like any normal child, she can turn on a <i>dime</i>.<br />
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That eye twinkle and smirk that flash in front of me as I try to reach out and grab her before she takes off running like a banshee {sometimes naked} through the house. Every so often I start to think I might not catch her. And all the while, she squeals and laughs uncontrollably, thinking she is the most clever person to ever be born.<br />
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Yes, on these days I am tired. Tired of running. Tired of correcting. Tired of anticipating what kind of chaos is going to happen next. <b>Can I get an "Amen" for nap time?</b> In this life of mine - the one where I am called Mommy, I might have moments of panic. There may be times when I think I've failed. When all I can do is sit down and cry.<br />
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Through all the fatigue, through the days spent wearing my fanciest sweatpants, through mornings of skipping showers so I can sleep in a little longer, I know my heart wouldn't trade it for anything. This is where God put me. I am a mom and I get the WHOLE package. Not just the glamorous parts. Being a mother isn't a pick and choose gig. I am learning that often it's through the messy parts - when I am feeling most inadequate, that I am being stretched and challenged. Through this dirt and grime in my soul, God smiles and shows me my strengths. He proves to me what I'm capable of achieving if I can just endure the race a little longer. It's a beautiful thing - discovering more about who you really are {who God made you to be} when you rise to the challenge of being a parent and can accept both the glamorous AND the gritty.Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-64804473038941522142012-05-18T10:37:00.000-04:002012-05-18T10:45:47.545-04:00Simple Joys and Big Faith<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">5 Minute Friday is hosted by <a href="http://thegypsymama.com/2012/05/five-minute-friday-perspective/" target="_blank">The Gypsy Mama</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Fridays over here a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today's prompt: <i><b>Perspective </b></i></span></div>
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She's learning every day. Something new. Something that causes another spark to ignite. In that flicker her eyes light up. She's three feet shorter than the rest of us. Looking at life from a different angle. But that doesn't stop her from exploring. From reaching that which seems unattainable. It's all about determination. At her young age, she thinks she's unstoppable. Such a beautiful outlook on life. Wouldn't it be lovely if we all had that view? If we could, for one moment, stop the doubting, the second-guessing, the disbelief. And just... DO. To reach for the stars and be what God wants us to be. And have fun doing it. Running wildly without abandon, our arms and legs flailing wildly about - we would feel free. Running so fast, we might think we could take flight if we just ran a little faster. </div>
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Yes, from her perspective, life is good. Life is wonderful. Life is breathtaking. Simple joys and big faith.</div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-18000574458031731482012-05-17T15:03:00.000-04:002012-05-17T15:03:12.980-04:00Miss Independent<div style="text-align: justify;">
She can do it herself. She doesn't want anyone's help - she's perfectly capable, thank you. Don't try to step in and lend a hand - she'll just get mad and start pouting. This is <i>her</i> task to complete. <i>Hers</i> to accomplish. All she really wants is to be able to sit back with a smile and say, "Yes - I did that. <b>All.</b> <b>by.</b> <b>myself.</b>"</div>
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But YOU know better, don't you? You are wise beyond her years. You have the strength that she lacks. You've seen it a thousand times before and this is nothing new for you. If she would just let you help. And so you sit back and watch, waiting. It's coming - the moment when she will fail. Try - and fail again. Her brow furrows with frustration and she decides to give up. To throw in the towel. "It's useless", she might mutter to herself. "I can't do anything."</div>
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Oh, what's that? You thought I was talking about my two year old? Yes, these scenes are an every day familiarity in our house. But today I'm not talking about a toddler. I'm talking about... me.</div>
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Me! A grown woman - a wife, a mother. Acting like a child and thinking I can do it all. And there in the background God watches me fall apart. Not because He doesn't want to help! But because I push Him away. I drown out His whispers and offerings of leaning on Him, relying on His strength.</div>
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I'm not here to call anyone out, but I'm pretty sure this is something that we are all guilty of from time to time. So the question remains: </div>
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Why do we <b>DO</b> this?!?</div>
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When we look at it from the perspective of a parent wanting desperately to help their child, it is blatantly obvious to us that everything would go much more smoothly if the child would let the parent step in and help. The task could be done in half the time! <i>So why can't we see the child in ourselves when our Heavenly Father wants to step in and help us?</i></div>
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As I ever-so-patiently wait on the sidelines for my daughter to ask me for help, I can only be reminded {frequently!} of how often I need to let go of my pride and turn to MY Father for help. For it is then - and <b>only</b> then, that I will be able to do immeasurably more than I could ever imagine. </div>
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<b>Ephesians 3:20 MSG</b> <span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-75602764616395590542012-05-15T18:41:00.001-04:002012-05-15T19:46:25.886-04:00Thank Heaven For {My} Little GirlHave I ever mentioned how much I adore my daughter? Well I do. <b>A lot</b>. She has taught me so much about life: loving, letting go of self, sacrifice... the list could go on. And all this in only two (and a half) years! So to my dearest Aubrey, here are some things that I love about you:<br />
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<b>1.</b> Let's start with the obvious - you are beautiful. Inside and out. I am careful not to place too much emphasis on looks - I'd hate for you to grow up with the self-image issues that so many girls/women have (including me, ahem.) But let's face it - you. are. gorgeous. From those baby blues, to the perfect mouth, to the button nose... even down to your toes that you got from Daddy. Never in my dreams did I think God would knit together a child of such beauty. And then <b>give her to me</b>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her Daddy's toes! </td></tr>
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<b>2.</b> You are so smart. Never ceasing to blow me away with a phrase or question, you are observant and so independent - it's easy for you to learn new things (even when they aren't good)! You know all your colors and can count to eleven. You even know some Spanish - thank you, <a href="http://www.nickjr.com/dora-the-explorer/" target="_blank">Dora</a>.<br />
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<b>3.</b> Your creativity abounds. You love to make "crafts" - coloring, playing with play-doh, anything involving glue. You are constantly singing - many times making up your own songs instead of singing the usual toddler tunes. My heart melts when I hear you singing songs you've learned in Sunday School. "Only a Boy Named David", "Jesus Loves Me", "Deep and Wide"... yes, even when you belt out "Hallelu, Hallelu" in the middle of the grocery store. I especially enjoy your mash-up of Twinkle, Twinkle and Itsy Bitsy Spider.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2eYIC95Oe28O4c4LnXuVqKGSv3_QIxusN4qwK-rQpagXQJjXUjuK3mdBX1fgqErfAh0aP4Sr0suoI1kFcPuibRdal300oarWHXQ_dBlRzKU95wYeUD5-meXVUkv0ohOmzP1Fyor5GC40z/s1600/Aubrey_artist.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2eYIC95Oe28O4c4LnXuVqKGSv3_QIxusN4qwK-rQpagXQJjXUjuK3mdBX1fgqErfAh0aP4Sr0suoI1kFcPuibRdal300oarWHXQ_dBlRzKU95wYeUD5-meXVUkv0ohOmzP1Fyor5GC40z/s320/Aubrey_artist.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy little artist</td></tr>
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<b>4.</b> You LOVE playing with dolls. The collection is growing and until recently, each one was named "Baby". Thankfully we are now branching out to other names with some helpful suggestions from Mommy. To see your nurturing, compassionate spirit come out in your interaction with these babies makes Momma so proud. I am hopeful that you will show this same spirit towards your new baby brother when he arrives in a few months. I have no doubt you will be the best big sister EVER.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOoqajrzevX20CSblY88CkBEsm0RqzWHvxXKAqi6N5vRrAH-ss7Dtz5nphnchb9eH2c-oMMEAYofYB-raMRKsRhxxmIUzC3Q-c79LQyjN1xoj1epiFizqNw2trXsyS8knMzV1Mv8Zf4YC/s1600/Aubrey_lolly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOoqajrzevX20CSblY88CkBEsm0RqzWHvxXKAqi6N5vRrAH-ss7Dtz5nphnchb9eH2c-oMMEAYofYB-raMRKsRhxxmIUzC3Q-c79LQyjN1xoj1epiFizqNw2trXsyS8knMzV1Mv8Zf4YC/s320/Aubrey_lolly.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aubrey and "Lolly" - these two are inseparable!</td></tr>
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<b>5.</b> You crack me up! These days, there isn't much I laugh about that doesn't involve you. My little comedian - you've got a humorous heart like your Momma, always finding the funny in the every day. You love making faces and being silly. (Mommy loves doing those things with you.) And oh, that laugh! When Daddy gets you giggling, there's no stopping it! I could listen to that laugh forever.<br />
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And so, my love, I could go on for a lifetime. Each day I find a new reason to love you. At this point, I can't imagine letting you go - not to school, away to college, to get married. I stop myself from thinking about it because it hurts. But I have to remind myself that you are God's child first. You were brought here for His purpose and I am merely the vessel that He chose to raise you up and care for you. And give you billions of hugs and kisses. I can do nothing but shout thanks and praises to the good Lord who has trusted me with such a wonderful little person. I'm so glad He gave you to me.<br />
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Love you with all my heart, Mommy</div>
<br />Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-27699458757764059592012-04-30T16:38:00.000-04:002012-05-17T15:11:03.333-04:00Pop-tarts Can Be Choking HazardsLet me tell you what kind of day this has been... for starters, Monday. Really that's all that needs to be said about this day. To be honest, I wouldn't describe today as "bad", which is really the word that comes to mind when someone says, "Monday." But my Monday has certainly been... all over the place!<br />
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It started with the normal agenda: shower / get myself ready / get toddler out of bed / get toddler ready / try to convince toddler that she needs to eat something more than goldfish crackers and fruit snacks for breakfast. You know - the usual. As has been the norm lately, Miss Aubrey chose a pop-tart for breakfast which, compared to goldfish and fruit snacks, is a completely balanced breakfast in my book. After the second bite of pop-tart, we experienced a bit of a choking dilemma. Nothing overly serious - she was able to recover herself, but it was the worst choking incident we've had in our house to-date. And I'll be perfectly fine if we have nothing worse. ever. So of course the list of things I needed to do before leaving my house for Bible Study this morning lost any priority when my dear child needed her Mommy to hold her while she finished eating. I was more than happy to oblige.<br />
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No sooner was the pop-tart gone, and we needed to dash out the door with a diaper bag, purse, 2 sippy cups, baby doll, glow worm, dinosaur, and bible. Let's not forget 2 bags of chips and 2 gallons of tea and lemonade for the luncheon that was taking place after Bible Study. I loaded these things into my neighbors car - we both attend the study, so we carpool. Then I had to put Aubrey's car seat into the car, and finally I had to put Aubrey into the car. Yessss - I remembered my child!<br />
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Flash forward through Bible Study which was wonderful, the luncheon which was delicious, and some playground time for the kiddos before heading home.<br />
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Sigh. Out of breath yet? I was at this point. Even though it was nap time when we got home, I desperately needed to vacuum before Aubrey went to sleep. I couldn't stand to look at the crumbs and pieces of who-knows-what laying on the floor any longer. Vacuum floor. Change poopy diaper. (Potty training is coming SOON.) Nap.<br />
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Check. Check. and Check!<br />
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Finally, some down time for Momma. I got to check email, peruse Facebook and <a href="http://pinterest.com/janelle_allen/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> and... breathe. During my down time, I decided to tackle a few to-do's on my list. I lovingly penned two notes of encouragement to volunteers at our Church. I've recently decided that I need to start writing more notes. With a real pen on real paper. Sometimes a note of encouragement or thanks is the best thing you can do for someone!<br />
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My second to-do involved looking into pricing of Wills. As in, hubby and I both die - who takes care of our kids? It's something that we've talked about since before Aubrey was born. But we've never DONE anything about it! After a tragic accident this week that took the life of a 20-year old mother in our community, I decided it was time to check this off the list. Have you made a Will? Do you have any idea how costly a Will can be? Let's just say I was the one having a choking dilemma when I called to speak with a local attorney's office. So that might be put on the back burner again... at least until we have some extra money laying around.<br />
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By this time it was 4pm. I put away some clean laundry and when I came back to the kitchen my gaze fell on the bowl of cereal I had poured at 9am. Untouched. Fortunately I hadn't even been able to pour milk on it, so it was still dry. Sitting there, waiting to be eaten. I figured, why not? Yes, I will have my bowl of breakfast cereal at 4pm. And I did. And it was delicious.<br />
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So... that was MY Monday. How's YOURS been so far?Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-79651481646776831952012-03-21T14:21:00.005-04:002012-05-17T15:14:26.984-04:00Stop Running!<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">I'm currently participating in a women's Bible study at my Church. We're working through </span> <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 14px;"><a href="http://www.goingbeyond.com/store/member-books/jonah-navigating-life-interrupted-member-book-0" target="_blank">Jonah: Navigating a Life Interrupted</a> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">by <a href="http://www.goingbeyond.com/biography" target="_blank""> Priscilla Shirer</a>. Two weeks in, it's an amazing study full of truths about God's interruptions (ahem, <i style="font-weight: normal;">Divine Interventions</i>) in our lives. It really brings to light that the book of Jonah is not about Jonah. Rather, the book of Jonah reveals to us the powerful work that God can do in our lives and the lives of others when we <b>obey</b> Him and follow His lead.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">While reading today's lesson titled Nowhere to Hide, I was immediately struck by one sentence: </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">All of God is where you are, every moment of every day</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">. HELLO! For some, this can be a comfort - those that are hurting or are experiencing a season of closeness with Him. For others, those living in disobedience and trying to run from God, it can be a frightening realization. Any Christian knows that God is omnipresent, but when we are trying to avoid a face-to-face encounter we just might try running in the opposite direction. A complete 180. If God has been speaking to you - urging you to change your plans or step out of your comfort zone, don't try to distance yourself from His presence - you'll only be setting yourself up for negative results! God WANTS to let us in on His plans for us. He WANTS us to get excited about the amazing things He will do in our lives and through us - if we only choose to have communion with Him and seek His face. Lets take off our running shoes and have an intimate encounter with The One who made us - He's there, waiting, for the moment you choose to stop running and listen.</span></div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTc_IZwh0B4P98PCl-d2cU7ucyh_Y8q-DrB62OtIQkASJfZzfVD" /> </div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-19042510081375127652012-03-19T13:33:00.003-04:002012-05-17T15:16:23.622-04:00The Privilege of Teaching Happiness<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXy2YVLgPVD6ufbcG2qARSRtjziUumTGLtAHtlzo-1NLXODuAidxqTwDqySzaOtM3JrhQlw9ajwStkdPeL8IYotZQyEBstSIYSVQV5pMQIv1M2GUtmKcbJARIvIzap3FnTDJOG0PqK6SH/s1600/sunshine+2.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721669609602491362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXy2YVLgPVD6ufbcG2qARSRtjziUumTGLtAHtlzo-1NLXODuAidxqTwDqySzaOtM3JrhQlw9ajwStkdPeL8IYotZQyEBstSIYSVQV5pMQIv1M2GUtmKcbJARIvIzap3FnTDJOG0PqK6SH/s320/sunshine+2.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">"Make it a rule...never, if possible, to lie down at night without being able to say "I have made one human being at least a little wiser, a little happier or a little better this day."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Wow. This quote from Charles Kingsley inspires me. It encourages me. And - it scares me a little. Am I REALLY to hold myself responsible for influencing people in such a way that it causes them to grow and be a better individual?? As a Stay-at-Home Mom of a two-year old, this concept couldn't be any more real. Each and every day, there is at least one moment when I stop and think, "I am her teacher... I am showing her how to live life..." Then I think, "Am I doing a good job?... Am I capable of such a daunting task?... Who let me do this?!?"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">I'm sure this is an issue that all parents struggle with - not just mothers and not just the Stay-at-Home variety. It's a massive weight on your shoulders to realize that your words, your actions -- your everything can and WILL help to shape another human being into what he or she is to become.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Readers, I urge you today, do not let this massive weight become more than you can bear. Rather, take it as a challenge. View it as an amazing privilege that God would grant you, YOU the opportunity to impact someone's life in this way. To be their teacher, their mentor, their example of Christ and His love. I can guarantee that God would not give us the precious gift of children if He did not think that we could make some kind of difference in their lives - to make them better in some way. You can bet that there will be moments of complete and utter parenting failure, but rest assured that our Heavenly Father will be there to pick us up, dust us off, and reveal something new to us through each hurdle we face. Just as we'll get to do for OUR children. </span></div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-30172080818289876292010-05-08T09:12:00.003-04:002010-05-08T09:23:00.039-04:00My Mama's Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFmC94lIPzV-XZcUkxaOHiQlC-iiBY9KmQd5riRUZE02hAViDNYOinSeCAH2X5SO3uaKRw6KdjMPDdNfRSmRMXlUXxFpUsnDsK1apHtJixcwCSXkC-dEvzTZDF5H-D9sSfzFoTYJinhQK/s1600/IMG_2650.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 134px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468888757595913170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFmC94lIPzV-XZcUkxaOHiQlC-iiBY9KmQd5riRUZE02hAViDNYOinSeCAH2X5SO3uaKRw6KdjMPDdNfRSmRMXlUXxFpUsnDsK1apHtJixcwCSXkC-dEvzTZDF5H-D9sSfzFoTYJinhQK/s200/IMG_2650.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Happy Birthday to my Mom, who is 52 years young today! She is one of the only women I know who still gets excited about her birthday and thinks that a week should be blocked off to celebrate. In fact, she kind of DOES get a whole week of celebration... or at least a few days worth, seeing as how she was born within days of Mother's Day. So today, I wish birthday blessings on the woman who had enough courage and grace to raise me as a child of God! Thanks for teaching me how to be a woman of worth!</div>Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6830583833107166764.post-1402151995080182262010-05-05T20:00:00.003-04:002010-05-05T20:11:28.662-04:00Janelle and Julia<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQsdjKxhOi4U6BTvzQpdumvHEonmJNOrrDAzHi5K5Vz49H1XZct12RmepwMSW2Bx_iQ0bl3GvnNoTk0O0hhaZXdJI4_6lLiyLGaZACZM-fKX96BvdCdTTLBuvRntjTYGVhqmyGAqJ_Zx-/s1600/julia.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467940974069831810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQsdjKxhOi4U6BTvzQpdumvHEonmJNOrrDAzHi5K5Vz49H1XZct12RmepwMSW2Bx_iQ0bl3GvnNoTk0O0hhaZXdJI4_6lLiyLGaZACZM-fKX96BvdCdTTLBuvRntjTYGVhqmyGAqJ_Zx-/s320/julia.JPG" /></a><br />This is Julia. She quite literally may be the most fascinating individual I have ever met.<br /><br />She arrived at my work place today with our recently retired CEO. An old friend from out of town, she is staying with him and his wife for a few days.<br /><br />This sprightly 86-year old doesn’t act a day over twenty-five – such a zest for life! I only spent one hour with her and was ready to call it a day when she left. But her energy is contagious - dangerously so! Her spirit lights up the room and her voice can easily conquer a stadium. As she put it, “I am Greek. I had four brothers and sisters growing up. We all loved to talk and I had to talk over them!”<br /><br />Julia is something else, a true spit-fire if ever there was a perfect definition of the term. I kid you not, this woman talked, nonstop, the entire time she was here. I was drawn in – she is electrifying! She told story after story, often trailing off on one to start into a new one. She talked about being a gourmet cook and the countless people she’s had over for dinner. She mentioned, several times, about her husband’s father who started the Bank, She gave us younger girls marital advice – “learn to say, ‘yes, dear,’ when in an argument -- even if you are being a smart ass!” She spoke lovingly of her husband, Jack, who was a Navy Pilot. Sadly, he died 9 years ago from pancreatic cancer and left her all alone…<br /><br />Though, ironically, she is not alone – I have a feeling that no matter where she goes, she is always surrounded by new friends, a captivated audience. Just in the hour she was here, the number of people gathered in the lobby nearly tripled!<br /><br />At the end of our brief visit, Julia reached into her Vera Bradley bag and pulled out a stack of calling cards with an artist’s rendering of her seven-bedroom house on the front and her name, address, and phone number on the inside. She proclaimed, “And I want ALL of you to come and visit me – all together! I can cook you some of my gourmet meals and we’ll have a great time.”<br /><br />I sincerely hope that some day I might run into Julia again... Who knows – maybe we’ll all pile into a van and make the three-hour trip to her house some day… I’m sure it would be one of the best (and loudest) vacations ever.<br /><br />Cheers to Julia – you’ve shown me what it means to live!Janelle Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06162404546641117005noreply@blogger.com