tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78846632024-03-14T08:00:54.987-07:00Sail by the stars* Sail by the stars * Photography, and daily ramblings from a redheaded woman *Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.comBlogger224125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-92198970560025446762019-05-12T22:49:00.002-07:002019-05-12T22:49:55.210-07:00A mother's confession: <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I pulled you to my chest after 17 hours of back labor, I recoiled inside a little bit because you honestly looked like my father in law. A tiny slippery red-faced alien, wailing and reaching for me. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I was exhausted and hormonal and hated the way you smelled, (What is this baby smell everyone is talking about?) four days after pushing you out, and had to chant, "I love this baby...I love this baby..." to myself as we tried to nurse -- I remember wanting to run away and sobbing so hard in my room, and giving myself a pep talk- "You can fall apart for exactly 30 seconds and then you have to SUCK IT UP and go out to the living room and put on a happy face because people are here!" </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I was in the ICU 'pumping & dumping' every two hours because of all the antibiotics that they threw at me to try and keep me alive -- and the doctor told me I would never breastfeed I thought, "No way. I'm doing this. Let's keep this going." determined that this would be the channel through which I would figure out this bonding thing with you. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When the night nurse read my chart saw that I was a week post-partum, and casually asked, "So...where's your baby?" I bawled for an hour. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I finally came home from the hospital and we figured out how to nurse again, I was so relieved. I thought, now we can get back on track. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When you rejected every. single. plan. I had in my head for how we would raise you...(breastfeed for years/ co-sleep/ attachment parenting ) and you hated to be held, kissed, snuggled, connected with--you just wanted to run away. all. the. time. even before you could run. I thought it must be all my fault, from the very beginning. That I had missed our chance, our window at bonding. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When you grew more distant and demanding and didn't speak except to copy your favorite lines from books or kid shows, I thought I failed. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When you didn't say, "I love you, Mom" until you were four years old, and after working at that simple social exchange for a year...I tried to not let it bother me, but I failed. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had so many moments when all of my early childhood training, nannying, babysitting, teaching, practice utterly failed and failed and failed again. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But you were teaching me how to be YOUR mom. And what YOU needed. And every day we learn a little bit more. And now we're better than ever! Somewhere on this 6-year journey of being your mom we had figured each other out over and over, found our groove and became fiercely attached. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">* * * </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Last month, CPS left their card on my door--( because your 2.5 -year-old sister had bitten your arm--and someone thought that was a red flag)</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> I thought...don't they know? Don't they know that every waking minute is in service of keeping you safe and happy? When my ability as your mother was called into question I thought--don't they know about every little part of our world that has been gone over with a fine tooth comb to make sure that your world is safe? The double locks on all the doors? The specialty diet? The routines, and schedules, and cards? The swings, the sensory spaces? The books, and shows and practice work we do? The hovering helicopter mom I have become in order to keep you safe? (Since your fear filter doesn't work?) </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Still--all I could think of was that you would be so confused, upset, and hurt to be taken away from us and your life here. That they wouldn't know what song to sing to you in order to help you calm down. They wouldn't know the exact way you *need* you eat your sandwich in order to be happy. Or how you put your shoes on the wrong feet sometimes on purpose because it feels better to you. They wouldn't know your patterns of conversation or the world that's inside your head. They wouldn't know that you can climb walls...or escape over fences, that you're drawn to water, or strangers & dogs. And that if it came to it, I would fight tooth and nail to keep you with me.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The thought that they could take you away left me shaken, breathless, angry and terribly upset. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(It still does) Luckily--the caseworker had no issues with you, or our home, or your father and me. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the alien baby that turned into a beautiful toddler in her own special world, who then became this wild and wonderful child---you made me a different kind of mama in a way I couldn't have foreseen. It's been a bumpy ride at times, but oh how I love you. </span>Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-68053107110405775372019-03-03T15:37:00.000-08:002019-03-03T15:37:43.785-08:00Lucia's birth story / and catch up. My last post was in 2016--- I left it hanging with "ripe fruit".<br /><br />I delivered a gorgeous, squishy, squnchy baby girl on August 25th and then life got in the way and somehow she's sitting on my bed next to me watching some inane ABC show at 2 and a half and I never got around to writing her story!<br /><br />Such is the lot of second babies. Right?<br /><br />Life got crazy--in good ways, (I had a new healthy baby--and I didn't die or end up in the hospital! just a bout of mastitis ) and hard ways, (all of my in-laws moved in with us for 6 months) and in ways that turned out to be a new normal--(Ari was diagnosed with Autism and started special education preschool on her 4th birthday) <br /><br />but there needs to be a pause...I think, to witness the light and joy and goodness that Lucia brought to our family and especially me.<br /><br />I remember sitting on my bed wearing my red and blue damask/kaleidoscope maxi skirt and rocking back and forth during the contractions.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTwRulVtuhab8kew7pi2tPK2j_4CZWRzOfkR8ljwPwN94nuKHAXyjYhxIk0jRN-hH8oJtAs5dKDAXzlOXTtLIC9DMtKgu_xkIX5jSk_gMO39ZUOFdCqly7lVxzF9iymqJYSezMkQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.14.41+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="594" data-original-width="592" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTwRulVtuhab8kew7pi2tPK2j_4CZWRzOfkR8ljwPwN94nuKHAXyjYhxIk0jRN-hH8oJtAs5dKDAXzlOXTtLIC9DMtKgu_xkIX5jSk_gMO39ZUOFdCqly7lVxzF9iymqJYSezMkQ/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.14.41+PM.png" width="318" /></a><br /><br />My scheduled midwife was sick and was hoping I wasn't really in labor.<br /><br />I had gone for a long walk with Ivan around the neighborhood the night before--just to kick things into gear. I was so excited to meet this little one! I had arranged the music I wanted to listen to, music to labor to, to focus with, to push with...) I had gathered the art that I was bringing with me to the birthing center so I could focus on something I actually liked. (For Arianna's birth I had them remove the annoying metal sculpture of the empire state building. Couldn't we have something round, open and lovely, instead of phallic and pointy, please? Come on!)<br /><br />When I had Ivan drive me to the birth center, luckily my midwife Suzanne who delivered Ari was there--which was such a miracle since she had moved on to just a teaching position--but because the other one was out sick---it was a huge load off of my mind having her there, because she knew all about the complications I had before, and knew what to look for this time. I also had my aunt Kara come and be my doula...as my mom was on the plane coming across the country!<br /><br />In some ways--I knew I could do it without her, as sad as that would be for her to miss it, but I knew mostly wanted to get the birthing part out of the way, and I needed her help for the fallout that happens when I have a baby.<br /><br />When I was checked I was only at 2 cm--and that was very disappointing because I had been waiting for the 5-1-1 rule to come and it had been going for a while...I had been contracting at home for 24 hours.<br /><br />Now, these contractions were getting more and more severe, I couldn't talk through them... so instead of being sent home (like last time) they set up the room, and we settled in.<br />
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This felt very different than the first time I gave birth. With Arianna it had been all back labor--I think because the placenta had been across my front belly and protected me from feeling those ones. With Lucia, however, I was in 360 pressure. It didn't help that I had to have an IV injection of antibiotics as a preventative measure from getting "Child bed fever" or "Strep A Chains" which I had with Arianna --postpartum Turns out...they think I'm a carrier?<br /><br />I remember the contractions getting faster and more intense--time is all warped during labor anyway--so things are vague.---and laboring in the tub was really hard, and I had to be reminded to breathe like blowing out a candle. I remember thinking I can't do this again.<br /><br />and then wondering if the cervical lip would be stuck like last time...(it wasn't thank goodness) but trying to progress and then suddenly--I was back on the birthing stool... ( with help of course) and trying to remember how to push and focus.<br /><br /><br />When she came out it was a rush of pressure and fluids and they held her up to me and I was so surprised!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
Lots of dark hair, and squished face and "such a different bug!" I had been expecting a little copy of Ari -- because the ultrasound had shown a near identical profile...<br />
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<br /><br /><br />but this little one is all her own self--Much darker skin, and so much hair, and sweet little long fingers and chubby hindquarters. Ohhh such a baby bear. <br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Lucia Mae, born 6:55 AM. 7 lbs 10 oz. I think all told it was 6 hours from when we arrived at the birthing center to when she was born. (Arianna was 17 hours) </span><br /><br /><br />Ivan cut the cord and held sweet little miss for the first time.<br /><br /><br />I had to have Pitocin right after for the delivery of the placenta because Suzanne was concerned with the amount of blood I was losing.<br /><br />Those contractions made me want to punch people. Whew! So hard--but a clean delivery of the placenta and got cleaned up and back in bed with my cute baby.<br /><br />We nursed and slept while my mama got picked up from the airport by my brother, and we generally got bored and got ready to head back home to do the real healing. That's what I loved about the birthing center, was after so many hours, I could just say--"I'm ready to get out of here!"<br />
<br />But first---we stopped off at Target because I needed a touch lamp next to the bed for late night nursing--etc. Mom stayed in the car with the baby and I ran in --- mesh diaper under my pajama pants and I didn't even care. It was just so freeing to not be pregnant then...and feel all my bones start to shift back into place.<br /><br />My mom came and made everything better. Food, baby swaps, reminding me to shower, cleaning the house, tending Arianna, last minute runs to the store, finding nursing shields, (after realizing that baby had chomped off a bit of my nipple and was drinking/ coughing up blood) and diagnosis of mastitis and bouncing a very grumpy baby for HOURS. I'm convinced that all those antibiotics from the delivery/nursing/mastitis affected her poor little tummy so she was a grumpy baby for about a month...and continued to have lots of hiccups and so her nickname of 'cricket' stuck.<br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4MYvyKl5swWYyWMC2o4qSWJPiTdgF9bH4UWRPDpiplUi1_2CqItIRhWfiQfbtNMNjA7Og9lFbqDUJu3TPV2PP_so0Uque8nOT-npdOELHYSNrXh1GqwBk3lUI9fneMrKahIH_g/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.17.46+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="590" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4MYvyKl5swWYyWMC2o4qSWJPiTdgF9bH4UWRPDpiplUi1_2CqItIRhWfiQfbtNMNjA7Og9lFbqDUJu3TPV2PP_so0Uque8nOT-npdOELHYSNrXh1GqwBk3lUI9fneMrKahIH_g/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.17.46+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Grandma Anne and "Cricket"</div>
<br /><br />In three and half weeks she had gone from 7 lbs to 9.5<br /><br /><br />
and NOW she's a sassy little princess-obsessed, curious, drama queen / sweetest little cherub you've ever met!<br /><br />but most of her babyhood was swallowed in my brain by her older sister requiring a lot of attention and nursing her, a no sleep --it was survival mode. and then it was winter time and I honestly can't tell you how we got through it...<br /><br />Lucia was given a name and a blessing at our church in October.<br />
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Ivan got his appendix out--and so Lucia and I stayed in a cold hospital waiting room for 13 hours...<br />
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In November the country held elections and we held our breath for a letter for Ivan's citizenship papers to come through...<br />
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In December my sister in law got married and everyone moved out of the basement.<br /><br />I would have to look back on Instagram and see what we did for the next 6 months...lots of nursing, and trying to sleep, and contain Arianna (we ended up buying a slide and keeping it in the living room)<br />
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and all the time this beautiful, chunky babe would quietly grow and grow---and smile and giggle and I don't know how it all happened...she learned to scoot and crawl, pull herself up, sign ("more" at 7 months!) babble and eventually how to climb up our living room slide herself!<br /><br />And eventually-- On June 21st Ivan became an American Citizen! Yahoo!<br />
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The rest of the year is a blur--- here are some photos to help me remember a bit:<br />
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Four generations: Great-grandma Betty Jo, Grandma Anne holding Lucia, and me, Kjirsten in the back.<br />
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Great -grandma Ilamae holding Lucia Mae. </div>
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It took a long time for Arianna to warm up to baby---but now they're great pals. </div>
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In the hospital after Ivan needed his appendix out...wheee!</div>
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Christmas was blurry. Looks like we had fun though! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1pasO4gf2YtqjlxImGuyaJefSaQt-3vFTcyeN9_RTIq8oQof0WoBIRMe-itcXku9TcAOrD6SZZp-DCZBWqQuElOEIszMejjxzCYZL-aPAdIyUm7_qbPAeczbepH_QAio5tabg0Q/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.24.13+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="475" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1pasO4gf2YtqjlxImGuyaJefSaQt-3vFTcyeN9_RTIq8oQof0WoBIRMe-itcXku9TcAOrD6SZZp-DCZBWqQuElOEIszMejjxzCYZL-aPAdIyUm7_qbPAeczbepH_QAio5tabg0Q/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.24.13+PM.png" width="256" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2UNviSVw1fLLWHK_FmYx6XO8JK2cbIKPRcOzQpC0O15xf8Yk5ouy9up4K0eiFecPm-3bFNFqqHrDK-W3xULPErPHKgsY3eEDCgFWs28yQ6k8_KmzaZ0aT6wdKLZdsz3cg04ISw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.24.25+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="592" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2UNviSVw1fLLWHK_FmYx6XO8JK2cbIKPRcOzQpC0O15xf8Yk5ouy9up4K0eiFecPm-3bFNFqqHrDK-W3xULPErPHKgsY3eEDCgFWs28yQ6k8_KmzaZ0aT6wdKLZdsz3cg04ISw/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.24.25+PM.png" width="320" /></a><br /><br />They got matching Shaun the Sheep shirts for St. Patrick's Day from Grandma and Pa. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ13CHU1dyIH98tRz0P5idDD-lFAWmapUs9qpeVP0I6coTFVNrf3ntC3VnGtGNMOQXY9YtwK-eRKk8fE-r1fCR6KJvnUEeW2E97CuI5J0NchWRaN_xEiDKC0hXLkGBAzZ3fY-DeQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.24.47+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="589" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ13CHU1dyIH98tRz0P5idDD-lFAWmapUs9qpeVP0I6coTFVNrf3ntC3VnGtGNMOQXY9YtwK-eRKk8fE-r1fCR6KJvnUEeW2E97CuI5J0NchWRaN_xEiDKC0hXLkGBAzZ3fY-DeQ/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.24.47+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz96H_bqBbL7GzTIHHE_QKk5DyizpmFVzftvtSqofAI0SevnLCxF32-RdvsIZriryNionjomccu-mKLNLf6ZvXmjd6wNAt62bHxhNtsSufSjUHc1EcG7MyN9lpAIp17_KY5xjFXg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.30.39+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="578" data-original-width="585" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz96H_bqBbL7GzTIHHE_QKk5DyizpmFVzftvtSqofAI0SevnLCxF32-RdvsIZriryNionjomccu-mKLNLf6ZvXmjd6wNAt62bHxhNtsSufSjUHc1EcG7MyN9lpAIp17_KY5xjFXg/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.30.39+PM.png" width="320" /></a><br /><br />We went on lots of early morning walks. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">10 months ---didn't want to forget these fun milestones. She had two canine teeth coming in, crawling and pulling up everywhere. She signs: more, mom and dad and hi and bye and hat, all done, nurse and yes.) </span><br />
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We celebrated her 1st birthday in Maine --- after she took her first real walking steps on an Ogunquit beach sand bar.<br />
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Sitting in the middle of grandma Anne's medicine/meditation garden. </div>
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She wanted to get into the bucket and then was very sad once she was there. </div>
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Arianna "rescuing" lucia from a giant squid. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSX-HSb23dGwMOz09xTZxC-0aOxCBVzTl2BxevkuNwZuJsovWr7LsMCJ5DnKhMrxzPejF_QY2w9c3lis3n-WjSmjzIpsLa5SIVaNoIro7q2NbDvACTS_9bgPfe7IePfitMjD7gA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.58.06+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="503" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSX-HSb23dGwMOz09xTZxC-0aOxCBVzTl2BxevkuNwZuJsovWr7LsMCJ5DnKhMrxzPejF_QY2w9c3lis3n-WjSmjzIpsLa5SIVaNoIro7q2NbDvACTS_9bgPfe7IePfitMjD7gA/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+3.58.06+PM.png" width="286" /></a><br /><br />Panda and Elephant. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluhPLbZGNEbVKqx08_p2tqMGkTcA2UTa5DOIAJK_Qx-xwinGZuELjSOZBG1eyp_IWjgMFhLTpREq62iSShEA9WLO0gzNUsv25InXGxR6QylaIKD2l_jwMeqokEma8YhsAGEU3LA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+4.00.39+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="532" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluhPLbZGNEbVKqx08_p2tqMGkTcA2UTa5DOIAJK_Qx-xwinGZuELjSOZBG1eyp_IWjgMFhLTpREq62iSShEA9WLO0gzNUsv25InXGxR6QylaIKD2l_jwMeqokEma8YhsAGEU3LA/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+4.00.39+PM.png" width="306" /></a><br /><br />Popsicles and messy pants...happy kid!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBkyjA1uj_NrlDfyS38FLUKWf34KaslwB2wPU3Rm-bvqDIZlGWxR0eURfJa5EbMdo0IuQuMAO2xNGDYRWreOAlf7dYEq3tivmdK73vR5WDtz4S4ZYXW4j3jVFrWrck3k0758ptSQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+4.01.32+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="591" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBkyjA1uj_NrlDfyS38FLUKWf34KaslwB2wPU3Rm-bvqDIZlGWxR0eURfJa5EbMdo0IuQuMAO2xNGDYRWreOAlf7dYEq3tivmdK73vR5WDtz4S4ZYXW4j3jVFrWrck3k0758ptSQ/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+4.01.32+PM.png" width="320" /></a><br /><br />Lucia the garden gnome. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXT78BnZ2RMLAzdo1CvZ97FQGVeMoxTMNTALIVbaIhAKysTpg7uwGyEnV9PB_J0HtoXpAc-fNrp2X_nwsljHuHbHQGkW-47zO6GhTGonmzS6GYetpbWU3QM64ttmVfys6HDTFnIw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+4.07.28+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="588" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXT78BnZ2RMLAzdo1CvZ97FQGVeMoxTMNTALIVbaIhAKysTpg7uwGyEnV9PB_J0HtoXpAc-fNrp2X_nwsljHuHbHQGkW-47zO6GhTGonmzS6GYetpbWU3QM64ttmVfys6HDTFnIw/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-03+at+4.07.28+PM.png" width="320" /></a><br /><br />She insisted on wearing goggles. ALL DAY. </div>
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<br /><br /><br />And now we're staring down the month of March having just survived the croup, and several colds, she's now sleeping next to me on the bed with a fever and an earache... this little girl is so loving and precious and opinionated and darling, and feisty and crazy, and sweet and wonderful.<br /><br />We named her Lucia after the Saint--who brought food to the starving sailors on the darkest night of the year.<br /><br />After trying and trying for another baby we found ourselves surprised with a Christmas-time positive pregnancy test.<br /><br />She has lived up to her name, bringing the light of love and sustenance to our family. How we love her.<br /><br /><br /><br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-12579225978794029792016-08-17T09:56:00.000-07:002016-08-17T09:56:50.257-07:00Ripe fruit<div style="text-align: center;">
<span id="goog_1180592661"></span><span id="goog_1180592662"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGyLAOUgNQ_kFc71RRfBymGh6MtK8qbFYEZBeZAfvFLkxpn_0SxGhUto4QBi5qG7Ns6UbklAsoPsl7otrx9O0GO_0KhDv23SWhAP9I7Jxo5kHDthTU146V81ZrbP6vQTghvFe6A/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGyLAOUgNQ_kFc71RRfBymGh6MtK8qbFYEZBeZAfvFLkxpn_0SxGhUto4QBi5qG7Ns6UbklAsoPsl7otrx9O0GO_0KhDv23SWhAP9I7Jxo5kHDthTU146V81ZrbP6vQTghvFe6A/s1600/unnamed.jpg" /></a></div>
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This may look like a giant bowl of peaches. </div>
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But it is really a <i>time machine.</i></div>
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* * * * *</div>
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Yesterday I waddled over to my generous neighbor's back yard and picked a full giant bucket full of these blushing beauties. I gathered as much as I could safely pick. There's still bushels left, but still needing a day or two to be ready. That or, they're just out of reach that I'd need a ladder, and I'm a little front heavy these days. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Today---this morning---I took that bucket outside to the cool morning back patio, grabbed a bowl, and my favorite paring knife, and set to work.<br />
<br />
Arianna played in the garden, stomping to "the ants go marching..." and finding treasures. "Look! A stick! Look! Can you guess what it is? A peanut!" Gifts left by the squawking Mexcian Jay birds that frequent the yard. <br />
<br />
I sat, rotund, balancing the bucket for the skins and pits on my leg, and set forth on the zen movement. </div>
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<i>Grab peach, halve it, pit it, slip the skin, slice into bowl...</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Grab peach, halve it, pit it, slip the skin....</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Grab peach, halve it, .....</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
until it became just the movement. The motor, the humming of the time machine. <br />
<br />
Because I was suddenly transported into a little kitchen with faint baby blue linoleum, and round orange naugahyde squeaky metal stools.<br />
<br />
I was standing at the sink in my great-grandmother's house. I'm 10 years old. I have just brought in the cardboard fruit box of pears I've picked from her front tree. And it's time to start peeling all the peaches and pears, and slice them up to make fruit cocktail.<br />
<br />
And she's right there. Grandma Page, in all her softness and light and sweet smile, and clean goodness.<br />
<br />
She teaches me how to pull the skin off in one clean strip, using the knife against my thumb.<br />
<br />
Just like mom does.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The time machine jumps.<br />
<br />
I'm in Maine. It's high summer, and the peaches are ready for canning. But the whole kitchen is filled with all the heavy juicy jewels of the August garden. Zucchini, tomatoes, blueberries, corn all wait in the sink. The basket of peaches has a haze drunken fruit flies dancing over it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>Grab peach, halve it, pit it, slip the skin....</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In real-time--the hummingbirds and yellow jackets are buzzing overhead fighting at the feeder. Arianna continues to march with the ants...."and they all go marching DOWN...to the ground..."<br />
<br />
<i>Grab peach, halve it, pit it, slip the skin....</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Grab peach, halve it, pit it, slip the skin, slice into bowl...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And mama is there, in all her goodness, and strength, and happy laughter, helping me to feel the edges of the glass jars for imperfections, and showing me how to place those orange cheeks inside so they fit just so.<br />
<br />
In real time--I'm slicing and skinning and dripping all the peach elixir down my hands, and it collects on my elbows and seeps into my skirt. Onto my round peachy belly. The cracked veins of the red peaches matching my red and purple stretch marks. I am carrying ripe fruit. Nearly there. Nearly ready to be picked off this heavy branch.</div>
<i>Grab peach, halve it, pit it, slip the skin....</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Grab peach, halve it, pit it, slip the skin, slice into bowl...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The time machine jumps.<br />
<br />
And I am with mother Eve. She's just there, sitting with her family around her, and her babies. In all her wisdom, and humanity, holding out fruit to all her children. "Eat this. It's good for you."</div>
<i>Grab peach, halve it, pit it, slip the skin....</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Grab peach, halve it, pit it, slip the skin, slice into bowl...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Grab for another peach and they're gone.<br />
<br />
I've finished this part of the work.<br />
<br />
The time machine disappears.<br />
<br />
I'm sticky handed, resting and filled with lingering visions.<br />
<br />
Fruit, and time, and mothers.<br />
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<br /></div>
Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-37104669590735965582014-05-14T22:16:00.001-07:002014-05-14T22:16:42.008-07:00Do you ever...Maybe this doesn't happen to you...<br />
<br />
and maybe typing this into the internets is supremely bad juju...<br />
<br />
but sometimes my life is so good that I can't breathe.<br />
<br />
Do you ever want to hold onto a moment that's so perfect that you can practically feel the cells of your body open up to take in more information---so you can download it internally and breathe it, live off of it forever?<br />
<br />
{I realized I'd been talking at Ivan all day....not to him. We hadn't had a chance to really connect, look eachother in the eye. Just parallel schedules/necessities of the day. Work, house, baby tasks all pulling at us, and a few brisk but sincere, "I love you's!"....so tonight when everything quieted down and I got a chance to look at this amazing creature I married, it made me stop breathing for a minute. And time slowed down, as I scanned his features and tried to burn into my retina the exact curvature of his brow, the slope of his nose. Silly perhaps, but I really tried to put every cell on high alert for how my arms fit into his. So that if necessary I could pull back from muscle memory how it feels to be surrounded by him, and tucked in just so. Because, I have a feeling, I'm going to need that someday.}<br />
<br />
The hospital bills, the laundry piles, the broken drywall, forgotten---put on the back burner.<br />
<br />
And instead you are in. this. moment.<br />
<br />
And you're terrified that it could all be taken away, tomorrow.<br />
<br />
So you're equal parts worried to live completely present and to also fearful that if you don't turn this into muscle memory that you'll be sorry in the future when you don't have this 'happy place' completely memorized for when you really need it.<br />
<br />
{ Arianna just woke up--- it's 10:45 and she's crying with the 'I had a bad nightmare' cry. My one year old is getting so big, and sweet and funny. I sneak into her room, and she crumples against me, as I lift her up. Huffs and snorts and sighs....,' All better. Mom has me now.' She's back to sleep within seconds, and I before I settle her back into her blankets I take one more look in the low lights, her eyelashes are making long stripes across her cheeks, and I kiss her nose. Take it all in brain cells. Remember every detail. }<br />
<br />
And sometimes, my life is so supremely good I am paralyzed with fear that it will all come crashing down.<br />
<br />
and then I remind myself that there's no guarantee that it won't...so just live.<br />
<br />
<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-90644927836932886412014-03-24T08:41:00.000-07:002014-03-24T08:49:57.537-07:00On loss.I'm feeling...what? What is this?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sad. Achey. Sympathetic. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A dear lady, a 'dear heart' has passed in my hometown. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An echo of my father, a fellow ARMY buddy, has succumbed to cancer. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
A sweet friend's sister.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An accident taking two cyclists.<br />
<br />
Parents of my friends.<br />
<br />
Babies too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's hard to know what to say, other than the most unhelpful understatements.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This sucks.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm so gut-wrenchingly sorry. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And to think on some advice I've been given:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Don't be strong if you don't want to be.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Scream.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Shout.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Cry.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Really, ugly cry.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Throw things. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Or don't.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
You might feel resentful of the fact that everyone's life is still churning on.<br />
<br />
Or not.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's surprising, and can be a bit hurtful that the universe doesn't stop when your own personal sphere has been shattered. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
People are going to say stupid things. I'm sorry. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Remember your loved one in the best way. Keep those memories in the forefront of your mind. Dismiss the way the funeral home puts on the terrible bright pink lipstick. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This is going to hurt. For a long time.<br />
<br />
I'm so sorry. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ghosts will pop up, for every anniversary, every birthday. Every wedding. That's not always a bad thing. But it is a hard thing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And if you need someone to come and sit by you and cry with you, I'm here.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you need someone to not say anything at all, but fetch you hot tea, I'm here. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you want to be alone, that's fine too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Don't let anyone tell you how you're supposed to be feeling. </div>
<div>
<br />
Don't be afraid to laugh too.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
You're probably feeling it all.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
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Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-80386139607477994282014-03-18T15:58:00.000-07:002014-03-18T15:58:36.357-07:00March Winds: being a Mom to AriannaIt's 4 AM. And you're turning, twisting, rolling over me in your sleep. I try my hardest to catch you in my arms, and hold you close. You are not a cuddly baby. You have always wanted to move.<br />
<br />
In the brief moments of rest, I stare at your long lashes and think about how long, how tall, how big you're getting. Each second your cells are regenerating, and you are growing, and growing away from me.<br />
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10 months old, soon to be 11. Everything is new and exciting. This does not help your sleeping.<br />
<br />
You move again, turn over and try to get situated in a different crevice of my armpit. I try to encircle you with my arms, to keep you from tumbling off the tall bed.<br />
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You are a pink kite, trapped for a moment in the branches of my tree, while the March winds blow on.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vfQ5gf0tTU0JvjKqTx_pLAYXlwPDeztPUdfRchYCezWli8a7_xthUD_SS4JpAbuBbrnmCcL7760lChlSgt-UqmyAoAdxU-hoyP8FGq2CHcPctGBlXrns2bDqqf9ji4MtUbD1jg/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-03-18+at+4.44.58+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vfQ5gf0tTU0JvjKqTx_pLAYXlwPDeztPUdfRchYCezWli8a7_xthUD_SS4JpAbuBbrnmCcL7760lChlSgt-UqmyAoAdxU-hoyP8FGq2CHcPctGBlXrns2bDqqf9ji4MtUbD1jg/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-03-18+at+4.44.58+PM.png" height="320" width="320" /></a> </div>
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You are the insatiable pachyderm, pulling all the laundry out of the basket, finding every dirt spec and plastic tag on the carpet.<br />
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You are the bouncy, crazed March hare, wriggling, refusing to be held. You have to go, go, GO!<br />
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<br />
You dance, one arm on the couch, the crib, or me. Not quite ready to let go, but so so close.<br />
<br />
<br />
And as your 1st birthday approaches, I think about how much you change, every night. More hair. More sparkle of understanding in your eyes. More teeth!<br />
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<br />
And I can't stop the clock! My tiny baby is gone. You are inching, quickly towards toddler-hood.<br />
<br />
Outside the daffodils are about to burst. The grass is turning greener. The forsythia is out! We are hurdling through space, around the sun. More growing. More change.<br />
<br />
I will try to teach you in the sweet quiet times. And I will try to teach you as you blur past me like a fiery comet.<br />
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I will try to hold on for the ride of my life. </div>
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<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-22645764886344556062013-08-31T18:01:00.000-07:002013-08-31T18:01:19.663-07:00Sunset Sail<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgneKQ8lUtXG5CSPHWqkUyVTSNpgNsAx620yRCz-_Q_TyYh3v6E0GdheglGQzrlJNB0m8UtZPp2QiQ5vloDtx8VwQ9DCfqoz_Co7ntFjA_CxmDIYeO7M42fWSIJ6II-jXy4KOzpYg/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-08-31+at+6.37.16+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgneKQ8lUtXG5CSPHWqkUyVTSNpgNsAx620yRCz-_Q_TyYh3v6E0GdheglGQzrlJNB0m8UtZPp2QiQ5vloDtx8VwQ9DCfqoz_Co7ntFjA_CxmDIYeO7M42fWSIJ6II-jXy4KOzpYg/s640/Screen+shot+2013-08-31+at+6.37.16+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Unfurl the sails! How amazing to be able to visit Maine this summer, before school started! We went for a sunset sail around Boothbay Harbor, on the Eastwind</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It was positively life-giving to be out on the water again.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>We had a steady breeze, and so we were able to boat around with out the motor too much. So lovely.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Grandma Anne and Arianna Jo</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My Dad breathing in the peaceful goodness</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Doesn't get much 'bettah' than this!</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>We had the most wonderful time.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>You know you're pretty lucky, when you get to snuggle in your Grandma's coat when it gets too windy.</i></td></tr>
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<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-37746228026442528212013-08-10T09:16:00.004-07:002013-08-10T09:18:44.411-07:00Sleeping and Waking: Arianna 3 months old<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Baby woke up...</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Time to play!</i></td></tr>
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Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-17075083932760542842013-06-03T16:45:00.001-07:002013-06-03T16:45:08.538-07:00Arianna's Birth Story<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Getting Ready for Baby</b></div>
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"Please stay in there..." was the name of the game for a while. </div>
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You see, Ivan still had finals to get through, and Mom wasn't arriving until April 25th.<br />
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<i>Ivan and his brother Vladi -- Before the last final of the semester! </i></div>
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I had prepared myself with meditation sequences, putting together my labor music, breathing exercises, lots and lots of reading---and then giving myself permission for this labor to be our own, and not like anything I had previously witnessed. </div>
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But I wasn't prepared to do this without my husband, or my Mom...so... </div>
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Baby needed to stay put. </div>
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And she did! (--even with all the contingency plans --just in case I went into labor while Ivan was in his History final, etc...)</div>
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Mom came, and promptly got into awesome project mode. Because, you know, you can't have a baby without a chest freezer! </div>
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And for heaven's sake! You can't have a baby without having your garden boxes made, and planted!<br />
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THAT was a lot of good work, ripping up grass and weeds and planning and shopping and doing and chopping and drilling and dumping and planting---Oh my! ( I mostly stood around and being puffy, and brought people water.) <br />
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<i>Ivan and his sister Nelssie admiring one of the amazing garden boxes.</i></div>
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....and so there were projects, and trips to Lowes and Costco, and picnics and I was still feeling great (except for my every expanding ankles, which luckily Mom had packed some excellent compression socks that she let me use.)<br />
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And we had to have some <i>carne asada! </i><br />
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<i>Ivan looking super manly in my favorite apron (we couldn't find his so, last minute substitute...) </i></div>
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It seemed like everyone else was very anxious for baby to come, but I was feeling content! </div>
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Mom said, "You need to get to that place where you're finally ready. You're done being pregnant and the thoughts and feelings of seeing her and having her here on the outside are bigger than what you're feeling now."</div>
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I was feeling big, but not uncomfortable. I was certainly in denial...What? Baby? Pushing her out? Nah...too busy. Gotta plant a garden! Too many projects to do! </div>
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But always in the back of my mind, I had the time crunch too... Mom was only going to be here for so long. </div>
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April days were filled with good projects, and pretty soon we knew she was going to be a May baby...</div>
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<b>MAY DAY </b></div>
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After enjoying 75+ degree weather, we got a rude awakening after a surprise frost killed our tomato/ pepper plants... (How could we be so foolish and plant them before Cinco de Mayo?! I dunno. The weather report said nothing!) </div>
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It was a cold, and extremely windy day. ---and here's where the details get blurry. I know I had been having some contractions here and there...but I don't know when they really "started"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDc0BM3a1ujV02FJNWZY8hDhpZaUgo4zu6NAzQ3R9r1bkKjXZhajY3wRK2wxpOENijM7khv2pRi_ZvEkzTZnKyhdL27o7RoRSE4kKXSIKSnIuLuo3k19mwUcmsbXsTYt9aSyi2A/s1600/4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDc0BM3a1ujV02FJNWZY8hDhpZaUgo4zu6NAzQ3R9r1bkKjXZhajY3wRK2wxpOENijM7khv2pRi_ZvEkzTZnKyhdL27o7RoRSE4kKXSIKSnIuLuo3k19mwUcmsbXsTYt9aSyi2A/s320/4.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mom kicked Ivan and I out of the house to go for a walk in the afternoon (it felt like a death march to the gulags at times with the icy wind ripping through my clothes, and my legs cramping so I couldn't move) --But a couple of times around the neighborhood got some good contractions going. --That...and nipple stimulation. </div>
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<b>LABOR (or at least what I remember)</b></div>
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For me, in the beginning it was like...surfing. The surge, or waves of pressure had their peaks and valleys and I just had to focus on where I was, and ride it out to the shore...and then paddle and rest and wait for the next one. </div>
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It was also exciting! We were gonna do this! </div>
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I paced back and forth at home, and rocked out to powerful music, and hummed and moaned through some of them. The vocalizing really helped.</div>
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I remember going to bed. I remember being worried about my water breaking all over the place. </div>
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I remember it being dark and late, and trying to rest between the surges. I think I did. </div>
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At some point----we had finally reached the 5-1-1 rule. Contractions 5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute long for 1 hour. </div>
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It was time to call the midwives! "Come on in, we'll check you."<br />
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I think it was 1 or 2 A.M. at this point? Er...it's a little hazy now.<br />
<br />
I sat in the back seat on a towel (just in case) and moaned and moo'd all the way to the birthing center--which only took about 7 minutes. <br />
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Once there, I sat on the couch tried to breathe through a couple of contractions, and then got checked...<br />
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ONLY A 2?!?!<br />
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Drat. I thought for sure we'd made more headway than that. I was discouraged, but okay.<br />
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So we got sent home to rest, and see if we could progress there.<br />
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My Dad was flying in to Salt Lake airport and my Aunt was able to go pick him up. Baby had waited for her Grandpa to be here!<br />
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When we finally went back to the birthing center I had progressed to a 5 (?) <br />
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My Aunt Kara came to be my doula, and talk me through the ever intensifying contractions...<br />
<br />
The birthing tub was filled and I stripped down to my bra and got in...<br />
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Trying to find the perfect temperature was tricky. Kara and my mom took shifts talking me through the contractions, and reminding me to breathe, and pushing on my knees for relief. I pushed on the back of the tub during the painful back labor.<br />
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That was something I wasn't prepared for--- I thought the pain would be more localized to where I was feeling my contractions early on---but this labor was all in my hips and back...Pushing and pressure helped a little bit. Mostly to distract me.<br />
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I must have labored there for a long time.<br />
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Kara kept reminding me to do low sounds, and slow breaths. She reminded me that baby was moving down, and soon I would meet her! She talked me through a great meditation sequence focusing on colors of the rainbow and imagining all the beautiful things in the world of that particular shade---it was excellent.<br />
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In the background I could hear my laboring music---and I was happy with my selections---but I could tell that we had repeated several times--and I had about 2 hours of music on there!<br />
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The midwife apprentice Lea would come in and quietly and gently make sure the babies heartbeat was doing well...and Arianna was totally happy and healthy. That was a relief to know. <br />
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In the back of my mind, I was worried about where my husband was...and my Dad. I was safe and warm, and working with baby to move and open up, but my husband was in the other room getting some rest. (Which was great--because he was gonna need to really work later!) <br />
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At some point I realized I really had to pee...and I knew an empty bladder would help--and I didn't want to pee in the tub.<br />
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With help I got up and onto the toilet, and realized I felt like I sort of needed to push.<br />
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I had heard and read about other births where the feeling to push was overwhelming. I didn't feel like that...<br />
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It was more like--"Eh...I kinda feel like I could...maybe? Okay--Yeah. I think that's the right feeling..."<br />
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The more overwhelming feeling was I wanted to get my knees up, and squat. I knew I was nearing transition because I didn't know where I wanted to be.<br />
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I felt like a momma cat looking around for the perfect box to give birth...clawing around the house...unsure and wild.<br />
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I knew I didn't want to be in the tub. I didn't want to be where I was.<br />
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We tried walking to the bed, and I thought it would be nice to labor while laying down-- NOPE! One surge and I knew that was NOT going to work.<br />
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I sat up, and felt like I needed to puke.<br />
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I did.<br />
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And the pressure from that, broke my water! YES! I felt so relieved to know we had reached transition. I knew even though I felt gross that we had reached a great milestone. <br />
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The birthing stool was brought out and chuck pads laid out, and it was time to check me again to see how far we'd progressed.<br />
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8.....we were at 8 cm.<br />
<br />
Ugh. <br />
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"So, it was a good thing we checked, because pushing at this point isn't going to get you anywhere. We're kind of at a crossroads. We can wait and see if you progress over some more time, or I can help lift the cervix over the babies head. But it will be painful."<br />
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I knew I was nearing exhaustion with my labor---and I was worried how I would handle this extra pain. I didn't feel like I was able to control<u> more </u>pain, and so I hesitated. But I also knew that this would be the best course of action.<br />
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With every surge, and the midwife's hand inside me, and Mom and Kara pushing on my knees and Ivan squeezing my back I focused on a spot on the wall, and blew away every negative feeling and thought. "I WILL DO THIS! WATCH ME! I CAN DO THIS! I AM POWERFUL!" I'm surprised that there wasn't a laser burn on the wall later, I centered so much energy there.<br />
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I'm also pretty sure that I pushed all my guts out onto those chuck pads. I felt bad about that...but oh well. <br />
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Having the midwife's hand inside me, wasn't painful at all. I was so relieved, but too busy trying to manage the pain in my back to <br />
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"Pushing" was hard to get. I wasn't sure where I was supposed to be
pushing and I felt like any second, we'd be crowning! ---but no. <br />
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This wasn't getting anywhere, however. I think we tried this for an hour and still, no progress. Ugggggggggh! Baby was doing great, however, and I really did try to rest in between the surges.<br />
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Mom did a great job coaching me where to focus my pushing---but I was getting discouraged with all this effort and no baby.<br />
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I remember saying, "There is a baby in there right?! Because I can't do this, if there isn't a baby at the end!" <br />
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I was starting to feel a little panic because my Aunt Kara could only stay for a little while longer, and though I hadn't seen a clock since we came in, I could just sense that it was starting to get really close...<br />
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Another friend who's a doula recently told me, "I'm a firm believer that whoever needs to be at the birth, will be there." This was true for us. <br />
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The midwife suggested we try putting my legs up on the shoulders of the midwife and pushing that way...<br />
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Finally pushing made sense! All the women in the room, "ooh'd" and "aah'd"---"That was a great push!" "She's almost here!"<br />
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"Do you want to see her head?"<br />
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Another sudden wave, hit..."No!"<br />
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Kara said, "Wow, you're doing great! You should have 9 kids!"<br />
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I knew she was saying it in a supportive, 'look at you powerful woman!'- way..but I replied, "Uh...can we table this discussion?" <br />
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Pushing,--so much pushing---it felt like holding my breath---- pressure, everyone pushing on me, and me pushing on baby------her head was out! I closed my eyes, and asked, "Please can I keep pushing? Are we almost there?"<br />
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Another powerful surge, some gushing, and a groan of relief, and when I opened my eyes---the midwife was handing me a bloody looking alien.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNo7yZyVdphuASH67gRe0qGxao96N8Glfll67VvxOMqIuR1KJeo_YGe7t6XLMqK9QxbzZAefnQVUum1pq_rS6gHJXHqahlODjyIegBBV7sq5JHhvBKx5EDm85Rvugv-r20Ze4K6w/s1600/5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNo7yZyVdphuASH67gRe0qGxao96N8Glfll67VvxOMqIuR1KJeo_YGe7t6XLMqK9QxbzZAefnQVUum1pq_rS6gHJXHqahlODjyIegBBV7sq5JHhvBKx5EDm85Rvugv-r20Ze4K6w/s400/5.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>"Ooooooh! You're here!" </b></div>
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Baby had a loud, healthy cry! I had to rest her on my belly, because the umbilical cord was so short. I couldn't see really her face, but her head was pretty smushed from squeezing through the birth canal.<br />
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And then...for some reason, they had me stand up from the birthing stool, and go to the bed, and we waited for the cord to stop pulsing. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbrl2QIhvX3v8Ky0PQYhQ6IZoYTxzaTcod9I8KMDgBsqMmvZXdqRCDsy1wtA6T-NzR8QKK5R4zrEJLScLj1xGfDwhvM_U1Iq59Gq8WplOrfWrFxw4m_xCNKd15Ks2J6t42khXug/s1600/6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbrl2QIhvX3v8Ky0PQYhQ6IZoYTxzaTcod9I8KMDgBsqMmvZXdqRCDsy1wtA6T-NzR8QKK5R4zrEJLScLj1xGfDwhvM_U1Iq59Gq8WplOrfWrFxw4m_xCNKd15Ks2J6t42khXug/s400/6.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Baby kept yelling and peed on me!<br />
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I knew that only one thing would calm her, after that startling transition from cozy warm womb to loud and light outside...<br />
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"Do you need your Dad to sing to you?"<br />
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Ivan was next to me on the bed, and started singing the same sweet song he had sung to baby in my belly for 9 months...<br />
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"Ariannnnnaaa, ariannnnaaa,---here's a song about you." <br />
<br />
Arianna stopped crying, and turned her head to the sound of Dad's voice. <br />
<br />
I started tearing up. The midwives all sighed and cooed and said, "Look, she knows her name! She knows her daddy's voice!"<br />
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The midwives were kneading on my uterus to help the placenta detach...it wasn't painful! ( I had been preparing myself for that...) <br />
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Ivan cut the cord, and finally got to hold her.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjb9E3KHGPkMrRBWINZXUFlupvmUYQwoXAVGE94L5VMJPFCtGOOHIz4vFZIrcIw5STYpfq-IpjjhpKF_QMCFJOdEi0KYE_ibGj2oiWTO1pacTdtFjZp4dA8Xtk4qQ2rZMGyQMTA/s1600/7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjb9E3KHGPkMrRBWINZXUFlupvmUYQwoXAVGE94L5VMJPFCtGOOHIz4vFZIrcIw5STYpfq-IpjjhpKF_QMCFJOdEi0KYE_ibGj2oiWTO1pacTdtFjZp4dA8Xtk4qQ2rZMGyQMTA/s400/7.png" width="400" /></a> </div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
and I was helped into the bathroom, to sit on the birthing stool and deliver the placenta. <br />
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"Uh--I just pushed a human through there. I don't want to do any more pushing!"<br />
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But it was nice and soft and over with soon.<br />
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Back to bed, and skin to skin with my baby---finally could look her over, and see her cone head and adorable hands and feet.<br />
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I thought, "I just gave birth to my father in law..." and then two seconds later..."Nope! It's my little brother!"<br />
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<b>Born at the right time </b></div>
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<b>May 2nd, 9:57 am </b></div>
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Everyone who needed to be there, was. Kara was able to stay until a little after 10, and then had to go to a funeral. It was a full circle kind of 24 hours for her. </div>
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My Dad was there. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhYA15r9-SURrieskXeCqnK9SAYeipE0bkukPlp5vKNCdb4yNX8_nXooZwwWGYutPJKv3gh-Jhk_smqFWHRh8seQ03khsAQG25QNaHe8ajZz6eP5bLNCKohn0RtWNstmftN-PJg/s1600/9.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhYA15r9-SURrieskXeCqnK9SAYeipE0bkukPlp5vKNCdb4yNX8_nXooZwwWGYutPJKv3gh-Jhk_smqFWHRh8seQ03khsAQG25QNaHe8ajZz6eP5bLNCKohn0RtWNstmftN-PJg/s400/9.png" width="400" /></a> </div>
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My Mom was there.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIkO1OeuBCCZQlem21Fn1Ynw54EPeVSBZ0i9W7jDdh7KmIpVFjx7lxYDRBQZIGWnURGStfParbsoOWuh7hS7fkNr1Nf6h337Z3VC2hNO0cFVJ_Hj6VE-IOmav4rovHh85LMq0Hvg/s1600/8.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIkO1OeuBCCZQlem21Fn1Ynw54EPeVSBZ0i9W7jDdh7KmIpVFjx7lxYDRBQZIGWnURGStfParbsoOWuh7hS7fkNr1Nf6h337Z3VC2hNO0cFVJ_Hj6VE-IOmav4rovHh85LMq0Hvg/s400/8.png" width="263" /></a> </div>
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My husband was there.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XWKvw3BXnkjnC-wkggVLjpeKVUnBBR3T-zkPHOjUzqZ46KVWEWQnhZaKFhhbWgyNEayfJBBZC9ttM9I6y3dONfhKY2_NCq6LPVbkP1_1JRAsZYEsWwyIBvF-XVK1s_Q6d47Quw/s1600/10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XWKvw3BXnkjnC-wkggVLjpeKVUnBBR3T-zkPHOjUzqZ46KVWEWQnhZaKFhhbWgyNEayfJBBZC9ttM9I6y3dONfhKY2_NCq6LPVbkP1_1JRAsZYEsWwyIBvF-XVK1s_Q6d47Quw/s400/10.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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We did it! We all got her here! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEdi4ma_lCS4_qP1-JlWHqPGsz-BgKCjp0ixM3WfBJEyspKpRBnLcAq-Pt2tbBrBPuaaagt7oAi8K9UcolAkUAldiHq0yjQjTOwuRKo4lIuNV2Cm-D0YqPz6BFqPdVwgL1ZlLbw/s1600/12.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEdi4ma_lCS4_qP1-JlWHqPGsz-BgKCjp0ixM3WfBJEyspKpRBnLcAq-Pt2tbBrBPuaaagt7oAi8K9UcolAkUAldiHq0yjQjTOwuRKo4lIuNV2Cm-D0YqPz6BFqPdVwgL1ZlLbw/s400/12.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Arianna Jo Flores was 7 lbs. 8 oz, 19.5 inches long</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG6imYx9rgxlx9_NqXg9cz8_iYsxBE6_kz-6ntevhO7nTVU7vowicTYYL1mtPHqu0OTpSR2HNDPHXR1Z6yyaRn28EhHYUgXkDHwX4MaHllGN09uDU2GBZtRNDdKZ_zY0UUR5n1og/s1600/13.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG6imYx9rgxlx9_NqXg9cz8_iYsxBE6_kz-6ntevhO7nTVU7vowicTYYL1mtPHqu0OTpSR2HNDPHXR1Z6yyaRn28EhHYUgXkDHwX4MaHllGN09uDU2GBZtRNDdKZ_zY0UUR5n1og/s400/13.png" width="400" /> </a></div>
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<i>Measuring baby and checking hips, spine, and tongue--then printing her feet for the certificate. </i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZzs64mmi3i30aqJPS8v8aNfNdGq2h-PWCID8wng4t5Tm6Ln5YJKEGF4p8G2H3ypTU4xLoVTXcZTwf1yAtGu7vYkAKJCjJZjHympiVvu89SEIW_7WJV7iJjvB52Gk-_sMGinUSw/s1600/14.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZzs64mmi3i30aqJPS8v8aNfNdGq2h-PWCID8wng4t5Tm6Ln5YJKEGF4p8G2H3ypTU4xLoVTXcZTwf1yAtGu7vYkAKJCjJZjHympiVvu89SEIW_7WJV7iJjvB52Gk-_sMGinUSw/s400/14.png" width="262" /></a></div>
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Dad and Ivan made a trip to Cafe Rio and we all chowed down on some food, and then Mom and Dad went home to rest, and Ivan, baby girl and I stayed at the center for a few more hours to recuperate and doze. </div>
<br />
Around 5 PM that evening, we decided we'd had enough of the plastic sheets, and I was feeling ready to head back to familiar ground. So we loaded up extra chuck pads, and cleaned up a little, tucked baby into her going home outfit from her Great Grandma Barker---and went home, feeling sore, and elated, and nervous and tired.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMt5A-O4aXakfrgZTfI35qrwbJvVeq3Yl0HD4GA0tbMFBL8AtEse67-rf05cbDTG-K1V0saJFlC4U4zV1CYauNXJ9yQ5Z42qLRgZUb-jt5f5c21voIw3bjidu3MzKW_qGB6WyAg/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-06-03+at+5.41.26+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMt5A-O4aXakfrgZTfI35qrwbJvVeq3Yl0HD4GA0tbMFBL8AtEse67-rf05cbDTG-K1V0saJFlC4U4zV1CYauNXJ9yQ5Z42qLRgZUb-jt5f5c21voIw3bjidu3MzKW_qGB6WyAg/s400/Screen+shot+2013-06-03+at+5.41.26+PM.png" width="397" /> </a></div>
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<i>Practially swimming in it... </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nUP6tdbk2ArNl2xo5zbJgHhszx8gSfkOHFoP6FHYBnd5Njet9QcKb2PDd_lgm88yUtUFoHMBfei-CkPDK5lFUqi8cAbMSvF-lofN0g-Zch2MX6t73IjJIYHoZ7qBU-_xm8ruQA/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-06-03+at+5.41.54+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nUP6tdbk2ArNl2xo5zbJgHhszx8gSfkOHFoP6FHYBnd5Njet9QcKb2PDd_lgm88yUtUFoHMBfei-CkPDK5lFUqi8cAbMSvF-lofN0g-Zch2MX6t73IjJIYHoZ7qBU-_xm8ruQA/s400/Screen+shot+2013-06-03+at+5.41.54+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> Just for fun--here's a comparison of one month later!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
AND NOW! --too many pictures of baby...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-AYxrF-rfpeiivOl_WD56dtuGCsdnmrVtqKdMq1ffg7vqXXsARcKgl4AE_BljA7lUcz23UY1JnZnRvDICD6rb9em-aMF18UqrnQx8p9d9TwDOS29fp0PgWa2bY74QyBhJwmpBFA/s1600/15.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-AYxrF-rfpeiivOl_WD56dtuGCsdnmrVtqKdMq1ffg7vqXXsARcKgl4AE_BljA7lUcz23UY1JnZnRvDICD6rb9em-aMF18UqrnQx8p9d9TwDOS29fp0PgWa2bY74QyBhJwmpBFA/s640/15.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-84438259827620782362013-04-05T05:30:00.001-07:002013-08-10T09:48:53.894-07:00To my baby- <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<strike>So this one time...</strike><br />
<br />
<strike>Gosh, April really snuck up on me...</strike><br />
<br />
<strike>This pregnancy...</strike><br />
<br />
Um--okay I've started this post about a million times in my head.<br />
<strike> </strike><br />
Here's the thing kiddo:<br />
<br />
This has been hard. You child, knocked me off my trajectory---quite literally making me pass out, and oh boy-- the nausea was enough to make me sob, and pray for it to all just end.<br />
<br />
I've had to adjust my expectations of what my body does.<br />
<br />
For example: I used to be able to do EVERYTHING! Teach, photo shoots/ editing, house keeping, read, work out, paint murals, cook--unload the dishwasher--garden! <br />
<br />
<b>Early August</b> -- You let me know of your presence by sending me into a vertigo induced migrane-- hot, sweaty nausea--and so much spinning! Your Uncle Soren and Aunt Emily had their open house that day, and I was a puddle of helpless goo...<br />
<br />
Unsure that I was REALLY pregnant (gasp! could it be? What? No! ...hmmm...well?) we waited a couple days before taking a test.<br />
<br />
I was so passive about it all--what? me? pregnant? HA! No, not yet. ---the first test had the faintest of faint lines, and I threw it out, thinking...--"Oh well...Guess not really pregnant! "<br />
<br />
But the smells....oh my goodness child, you made me so sensitive to smells...<br />
<br />
More tests... <br />
<br />
Yep--two lines.<br />
<br />
Holy moly.<br />
<br />
Your Daddy was driving across the country with all our stuff in a van, heading back to Utah. I sent him a picture.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwwH4_oTBeuSwOAfkeO9BpeJYPfrfdl6jLgNcOaf0o2A31xNYpMRvJdGwUv-Bu3aPTtNeJBjuasjCqIhItHijPw03QN6rDjICUGUgVbqbRxPFawZCDhPXxN87FhKMlpgv98An5LQ/s1600/1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwwH4_oTBeuSwOAfkeO9BpeJYPfrfdl6jLgNcOaf0o2A31xNYpMRvJdGwUv-Bu3aPTtNeJBjuasjCqIhItHijPw03QN6rDjICUGUgVbqbRxPFawZCDhPXxN87FhKMlpgv98An5LQ/s320/1.png" width="317" /></a> </div>
<br />
He was giddy with joy!--and at the next rest stop, bought you a stuffed animal : a dolphin. He has always been so excited for your arrival. So supportive, and so positive--I know I couldn't have done this journey without him. <br />
<br />
When it was time for me to fly back I remember going through the security lines at the airport --wondering if the metal detectors would harm this tiny fetus, the size of a pea.<br />
<br />
Unpacking, and moving into the house was great. I had energy! I had a project!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0RY0uGiyeA8m12zRhwliEiJpm900NypJ7z1L748xdkvh0Nc8-xP87HnEWpcJ1Os_XxYZf3VXb5klu764ph6fv1oE_TqqxgHz1G54DN9A21J_Y5Nw85ze8ZjB7Huho9onzPnV0g/s1600/2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0RY0uGiyeA8m12zRhwliEiJpm900NypJ7z1L748xdkvh0Nc8-xP87HnEWpcJ1Os_XxYZf3VXb5klu764ph6fv1oE_TqqxgHz1G54DN9A21J_Y5Nw85ze8ZjB7Huho9onzPnV0g/s320/2.png" width="320" /></a> </div>
<br />
I was ready to pounce on this new adventure of teaching at a new school---I had students, and parents all excited---and THEN:<br />
<br />
You knocked me out.<br />
<br />
Cold.<br />
<br />
On the bathroom floor with a broken nose and a black eye, and twitching, and your Daddy hovering over me, "Kjirsten! Kjirsten! Are you okay! What happened?!"<br />
<br />
That's when the debilitating weakness hit. I couldn't lift my arms. I couldn't turn my head. You were very particular about which way I slept (only on the left! Don't even THINK about turning to the right) ---and all I could do was mumble for protein shakes, and toast, and roasted potatoes.<span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: black;"><u>.</u>.and pickles for the first time in my life...</span><u><br /></u></span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDX691qyQXKQGsQLy-i9kJWFgGqrGZpbajPOyPjGzjed_DAAdOL0eJmjynE3h-1_wo8QHPChIUxdw1wk8_P95PUAVG7JcW3lib4SllWU3cxPFaT_999iwNbT8CSUMLXfWarvr4g/s1600/5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDX691qyQXKQGsQLy-i9kJWFgGqrGZpbajPOyPjGzjed_DAAdOL0eJmjynE3h-1_wo8QHPChIUxdw1wk8_P95PUAVG7JcW3lib4SllWU3cxPFaT_999iwNbT8CSUMLXfWarvr4g/s320/5.png" width="319" /></a> </div>
<br />
I had become useless, compared to my regular standards. My body, was so busy jump starting yours that it became consumed by it. I was completely thrown-- What about all my plans?! What about my teaching?! What are we going to do?!<br />
<br />
*deep breath* <br />
<br />
This was the part where Mom had to start learning to be your Mom. The part where you started making me into something I never knew I could be. <br />
<br />
But I couldn't mother you with milk, or snuggle you, or wipe your tears---because you, little one were still so--so ---SO small inside me but so huge in my universe.<br />
<br />
I just had to hold my hands over my belly and cry, and say--"Okay! <u><i>This</i></u> is what we do now."<br />
<br />
<br />
This was the part where I had to learn to let my body do whatever it was going to do-- even those early scary days of spotting, and dizzy spells...and not knowing if you were going to hang around and turn into whatever it was you were/are going to be...<br />
<br />
Just breathe. Just try to sleep through it.<br />
<br />
Sleep and pray and barf through September.<br />
<br />
And October.<br />
<br />
And Oh---keep going--It's November. *butterfly flutters, and popcorn popping--you were saying hello!*<br />
<br />
Our mantra was just make it till Christmas. Just make it till then...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHorzx-m9Hosa1tLvOLaHhzuM-6yk3t2_8-hmjLOqFRQHwYHZsYr_Dls_A53aBqal02dr1couYx6H6ogjCwUDpReOwBvM0_T4NBAXj14dQYc03fqkgce3AAPO6Rjwe_fxeIwzcg/s1600/3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHorzx-m9Hosa1tLvOLaHhzuM-6yk3t2_8-hmjLOqFRQHwYHZsYr_Dls_A53aBqal02dr1couYx6H6ogjCwUDpReOwBvM0_T4NBAXj14dQYc03fqkgce3AAPO6Rjwe_fxeIwzcg/s320/3.png" width="320" /></a> </div>
<br />
Make it till December 10th-- 20 weeks, and an ultra sound with Abeulos and ---there you were--really really YOU! With a face, and <i>attitude</i>, and thumb sucking, and adorable stretching and kicking---we could see you! <br />
<br />
After that, I started to feel better. Small bursts of energy... The smells still got me...but I started climbing up out of myself, and lo and behold! I could do a load of laundry! I could do more than just lay in bed!<br />
<br />
My body continued to morph---stretch marks, and sore boobs. My hair and skin texture---my ear wax---everything changing. Everything about me looked pregnant. My eye lids, My toes. Looking in the mirror--It was my body--but so alien. And now this dancing womb---like you were continually doing tai chi. I felt beautiful and strange and huge.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji81KJQVmbu84aST5i57EnShXQHnFaWfKMyH0MtiGJrG7PCXnVgsFUrwpx00rFyClNlZdBEytmAh_udAN6XnVmgMxpTngQso_QpplMNsqMlnB7ign9bEi7bM2LbXfijyFrj1tgLQ/s1600/6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji81KJQVmbu84aST5i57EnShXQHnFaWfKMyH0MtiGJrG7PCXnVgsFUrwpx00rFyClNlZdBEytmAh_udAN6XnVmgMxpTngQso_QpplMNsqMlnB7ign9bEi7bM2LbXfijyFrj1tgLQ/s640/6.png" width="640" /></a> </div>
<br />
This was all happening to me, and I just had to let it wash over me. Again. And again... like waves. "This is your new normal. This is what you are now. This is real. and this--- will fluctuate yet again...and become another normal. Another version of you."<br />
<br />
So I let it.<br />
<br />
I read.<br />
<br />
I prayed.<br />
<br />
I survived through those days.<br />
<br />
I reveled in the sunshine--and the days where I felt great!<br />
<br />
I pushed myself too hard, trying to get back into my old routines and would have to abandon ship-- Dishes had to be left--mid my attempts to unload. The floor could not be mopped, by me. I would have to sit, at the stove and try to stir the pot of soup because standing was just too much--only to finally give up and retreat back to bed. <br />
<br />
Your Daddy realized that this made me a little crazy--and cheerfully cleaned the house, did the laundry, the cooking, and constantly gave me encouragement and love. <br />
<br />
He sang/ sings to you, every day and every night. You would start to kick so hard, you'd lift his hand off my belly! <br />
He still loves to pick out your clothes--- and asks how and what you're doing all the time.<br />
<br />
We started prepping your room, our house, the "stuff" that you'd need.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAo133ba6nbI-XJFxqwoiX6Rai-C1K8iu-JIF0iRUktCxVVhjhfVx9gWCJIHLCMzzfjgAe9NqY1dFLecFck0BOXgzW1rTY29J-2SqOPmMovBz6rSAIhdbQAhDvitjoRJj24R8APQ/s1600/4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAo133ba6nbI-XJFxqwoiX6Rai-C1K8iu-JIF0iRUktCxVVhjhfVx9gWCJIHLCMzzfjgAe9NqY1dFLecFck0BOXgzW1rTY29J-2SqOPmMovBz6rSAIhdbQAhDvitjoRJj24R8APQ/s320/4.png" width="320" /></a> </div>
<br />
and we made it through all our appointments---the midwives always remarked how active you are, and how much you like to move...<br />
<br />
and then...suddenly--now<br />
<br />
It's April.<br />
<br />
And it feels like we've had no time to get ready, and yet, we're three weeks away from your 'due date'...<br />
<br />
and baby---dear baby... we are heading into a new normal. Where Mom freaks out a little bit, about you being on the outside, and someday growing up--- and then calmly folds your clothes, and reads a lot of calming words...and sings to you and you kick back----you're running out of room.<br />
<br />
And Daddy happily sings to you and wonders what you'll be like.<br />
<br />
And both of us try to send you good energy to stay inside until April 25th... after finals--and after Grandma Anne gets here.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
* * * * * <br />
<br />
<div class="quoteText">
“What is REAL?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day... "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"<br />
<br />
"Real
isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that
happens to you. When [someone] loves you for a long, long time, not just
to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."<br />
<br />
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.<br />
<br />
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."<br />
<br />
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"<br />
<br />
"It
doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes
a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break
easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. <br />
<br />
"Generally,
by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and
your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But
these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be
ugly, except to people who don't understand... once you are Real you
can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.”
</div>
<br />
* * * * * <br />
<br />
To my baby-- Oh, sweet baby! You are worth it. You are worth all my aching back, and fried mommy brain. You are worth the nausea. You are worth the sleepless nights, where I wonder what our relationship will be like as you grow older. You are worth painful contractions. And being unmade---and then becoming something wholly new.<br />
<br />
Give me time, baby. We've never done this before. We'll figure it all out. You and me, and your Dad.<br />
<br />
and thanks for making us real, baby...<br />
<br />
"because once you are real, you can't become unreal again. It lasts...for always..."<br />
<br />
<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-3103613719722191362012-12-15T09:36:00.001-08:002012-12-15T09:36:01.303-08:00Lo How a Rose E'er Blooming<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Wdemr3kcCh4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
My kitchen has been filled with incredible food, and laughter, and work, and togetherness and family.<br />
<br />
My living room smells like pine.<br />
<br />
Our baby girl is kicking, like she's at soccer practice, inside me.<br />
<br />
It's Christmas time.<br />
<br />
It's snowing outside...<br />
<br />
This morning is quiet, and sweet, and this is the soundtrack for today. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-2612468306837315732012-11-07T13:47:00.002-08:002012-11-07T13:47:42.474-08:00Yeah, It's November...<br /><br />
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<br />
Maybe I was a little depressed coming back from Kauai, and didn't want to blog about it.<br />
<br />
Maybe we got so caught up in cleaning, and remodeling, and painting and moving into the house.<br />
<br />
Maybe I got pregnant and lost my functioning brain.<br />
<br />
Okay--no maybe on that last one. I<u><i> am </i></u>pregnant. My brain is gone. And so are my ankles.<br />
<br />
I promise more pics coming soon--of pretty, lovely things. In the meantime, I'm trying to kick nausea and fatigue in the head. <br /><br />Things to look forward to:<br />
* Thanksgiving and leftovers!<br />
* December and the visit from my amazing in-laws! (a whole month!) <br />
* Finding out if we're having a boy or girl!<br />
* Christmas!<br />
<br />
<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-15460964946876114002012-05-07T15:30:00.001-07:002012-05-07T15:44:39.620-07:00Farewell Tour { Part II }<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_S-eEGo2YkKVBrvZBp5HS44z7LS-8otEPSiSFRQNWNuZKa8uAIWXRxd0pJnn08sbXK093Ik5BUA5gStQdf-aqxC86SmnzdEGmEHkl6zIZl30NpnDUQQ1Ff6BfTwtmzJnQO_KDBw/s1600/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_S-eEGo2YkKVBrvZBp5HS44z7LS-8otEPSiSFRQNWNuZKa8uAIWXRxd0pJnn08sbXK093Ik5BUA5gStQdf-aqxC86SmnzdEGmEHkl6zIZl30NpnDUQQ1Ff6BfTwtmzJnQO_KDBw/s1600/1.png" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Off we went, despite gathering clouds to visit the North shore.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKa2vrR2ofE0FkewFYuizU7Dhh5k8pSS-otK-5HZ7NVaIV1hfmophIQnmklUPpzTjmn7ISoFGDCHQ6TQu0SQvnF0ct94IX0syCn4AqpmHibidQmlsPD36iG4yX7UsrWYwtb6b6qA/s1600/3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKa2vrR2ofE0FkewFYuizU7Dhh5k8pSS-otK-5HZ7NVaIV1hfmophIQnmklUPpzTjmn7ISoFGDCHQ6TQu0SQvnF0ct94IX0syCn4AqpmHibidQmlsPD36iG4yX7UsrWYwtb6b6qA/s640/3.png" width="332" /></a> </div>
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Driving through Anahola it rained and rained (nothing new...but scary when you can't see!)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzOUawt_2zgystPPyUQQ6KQlqD5jwqs2UU2GHsKhiAnQBP7MmsQXMT9OpgbMBcCgKmJeO6RtxJuPqSG86foOPKtPmPTXseNbTWvfMSEcq5SQ6naSOzU5qUpNfdoaLKn-JQyn1NA/s1600/2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzOUawt_2zgystPPyUQQ6KQlqD5jwqs2UU2GHsKhiAnQBP7MmsQXMT9OpgbMBcCgKmJeO6RtxJuPqSG86foOPKtPmPTXseNbTWvfMSEcq5SQ6naSOzU5qUpNfdoaLKn-JQyn1NA/s640/2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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When it dried up a bit I was able to snap a pic of the GLORIOUS countryside...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGav1gb4uwBp8wDXPwTOEy9423BiQMPdI49Xrw50K3Q-O4ARUIRwma7KfFcaHvLUNIzWB1KFC9dG05yOiVfTbKZszRvSUbg3M3LHNDFC9wDk2da7OhPU3fGfbHYAAcwFWZj5c1Fw/s1600/3.5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGav1gb4uwBp8wDXPwTOEy9423BiQMPdI49Xrw50K3Q-O4ARUIRwma7KfFcaHvLUNIzWB1KFC9dG05yOiVfTbKZszRvSUbg3M3LHNDFC9wDk2da7OhPU3fGfbHYAAcwFWZj5c1Fw/s640/3.5.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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And then we stopped and stared at the beautiful lighthouse, and watched the birds curled up on the tree boughs. It was not a good day for soaring. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8Ck5jiZxenY6-zWeOmI49ZM1cmVHtsfT9QmzTK1Ir6i-auflq81JUHdOrkRYJUTQ4O2FFGNcCWRBwAYgC5V3COVb3vKR8rrmSJcp5O7n1PAkz5TgUlQtcRTlQC026ndlSqpt0w/s1600/4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8Ck5jiZxenY6-zWeOmI49ZM1cmVHtsfT9QmzTK1Ir6i-auflq81JUHdOrkRYJUTQ4O2FFGNcCWRBwAYgC5V3COVb3vKR8rrmSJcp5O7n1PAkz5TgUlQtcRTlQC026ndlSqpt0w/s640/4.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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We figured that since we were <i>practically </i>there already, we'd hit up Hanalei as well.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAfIgDV3aeueJCmNp9zadZkjo57oG5GDR-a8hLI4djL5hhNhcTIPBLQX_GmuVa03eA2N-4j7nD4yX9-lqHbxKyn6qY6tf3Sl1TsHKECFfAIKmWv84yYdgNVrhkCHU1FhSKrmZfHw/s1600/5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAfIgDV3aeueJCmNp9zadZkjo57oG5GDR-a8hLI4djL5hhNhcTIPBLQX_GmuVa03eA2N-4j7nD4yX9-lqHbxKyn6qY6tf3Sl1TsHKECFfAIKmWv84yYdgNVrhkCHU1FhSKrmZfHw/s640/5.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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This is my favorite part of the road---it feels like you're flying through the tops of the jungle on a Disney ride. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfXZuPbABiEZTgdTdj7JJcB4e2D-RqbVYxIfkW4YhidvAdEbuzT2o-9oshDSMdMqqFH6Uss2Lt2V2heA0DF8wssrzZKlkDs-n0Wto4kUFTh0orfp9We3JxcZqnC1YOkA2ZYL7ruw/s1600/6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfXZuPbABiEZTgdTdj7JJcB4e2D-RqbVYxIfkW4YhidvAdEbuzT2o-9oshDSMdMqqFH6Uss2Lt2V2heA0DF8wssrzZKlkDs-n0Wto4kUFTh0orfp9We3JxcZqnC1YOkA2ZYL7ruw/s640/6.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Look at all those taro feilds!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Is68bVUyNQ8XRrPTbYDXHlvEpfoFF-82AXPzdGgQTo9JXYchygjOidPftSTRVMMJjIqWN9DBT1BUqWLTTzMDIkv7KOUiBSo3l548RHXDmUTx0R0JQiuGNO0QXi3Zv-Tv1ckSww/s1600/7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Is68bVUyNQ8XRrPTbYDXHlvEpfoFF-82AXPzdGgQTo9JXYchygjOidPftSTRVMMJjIqWN9DBT1BUqWLTTzMDIkv7KOUiBSo3l548RHXDmUTx0R0JQiuGNO0QXi3Zv-Tv1ckSww/s640/7.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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It rained and was muggy and misty we sort of wandered around a bit at the shops and ate some sub-par Mex-Brazilain food.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhboQFXFYScbq6GU0-j7txcqv7zraooRr-MemBWOBrUKDNwH35KxsFLCDrN5FzYdn507dweEGkkQaVhkQnEV2OHWFzCe7NZAnnSQdHB8q_OKSSNF0yzMVjSnsVGiuqtH5Y0-Hb_7Q/s1600/8.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhboQFXFYScbq6GU0-j7txcqv7zraooRr-MemBWOBrUKDNwH35KxsFLCDrN5FzYdn507dweEGkkQaVhkQnEV2OHWFzCe7NZAnnSQdHB8q_OKSSNF0yzMVjSnsVGiuqtH5Y0-Hb_7Q/s640/8.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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The waterfalls were nice and full.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd50yk3TZmUN3XQIqrRS8zqQKadtWYvyVRkjSfu7Abq54xRnIaz82g1x5ZRUGBmthj-85x9zdD4chWL7ZuMgs7Fim_Mk3GhSINMOCes9Ea6LDh8q6r5HSOhHhZMI0nLduaLXdsbQ/s1600/9.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd50yk3TZmUN3XQIqrRS8zqQKadtWYvyVRkjSfu7Abq54xRnIaz82g1x5ZRUGBmthj-85x9zdD4chWL7ZuMgs7Fim_Mk3GhSINMOCes9Ea6LDh8q6r5HSOhHhZMI0nLduaLXdsbQ/s640/9.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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and...then we said...hey--we're here already--let's go over a few more one lane bridges and go to the end of the road!<br />
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The island is only 562 square miles--and you cannot circumnavigate it by car. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij1pHdo7z7VtsSCvP41r7iEk-pgcdvznjJAjYUzSNRBKcJaNTlf1WXGjuCQwmk6wH-nrL9CgUNbXrXm1jT1VApmJGpjZPVckrWjYavPtWUhSsJgKQctZ06_Nu3tDs3mtfyY7ivYw/s1600/11.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij1pHdo7z7VtsSCvP41r7iEk-pgcdvznjJAjYUzSNRBKcJaNTlf1WXGjuCQwmk6wH-nrL9CgUNbXrXm1jT1VApmJGpjZPVckrWjYavPtWUhSsJgKQctZ06_Nu3tDs3mtfyY7ivYw/s640/11.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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And we stopped in a cave and wandered about. (our little 'fake' baby in the pink there had just woken up from her nap. She LOVED the cave.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNJ0NkqF7gFcMiqTdMTnTvCa4VrPLddzFoirBjCNFDDvD4t9g21r71VHxsBwkOMguOrybfnGRP-gozq6j2W11ArB6eyRwosJcV8SfXpbPlGe2T3zfQcQ-88C3iAzXsSmtQNll1g/s1600/12.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNJ0NkqF7gFcMiqTdMTnTvCa4VrPLddzFoirBjCNFDDvD4t9g21r71VHxsBwkOMguOrybfnGRP-gozq6j2W11ArB6eyRwosJcV8SfXpbPlGe2T3zfQcQ-88C3iAzXsSmtQNll1g/s640/12.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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The sun finally really decided to stay out for good, and we enjoyed getting our toes wet at the beautiful beach. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Ea8_PrthMKLB_uz8a_GJk72z_63Z-BBCUIgySuKXI8EJMR3vLphqd0RNeloylQYAjXhGJxdB1y6Kp8ChHDeKc9bY66bg6_hpK695d0qoXdMXHnR9fKQCRSEawWZkg6ZtbnF8Ag/s1600/13.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Ea8_PrthMKLB_uz8a_GJk72z_63Z-BBCUIgySuKXI8EJMR3vLphqd0RNeloylQYAjXhGJxdB1y6Kp8ChHDeKc9bY66bg6_hpK695d0qoXdMXHnR9fKQCRSEawWZkg6ZtbnF8Ag/s640/13.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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When the doctor tells you to find your 'happy place' --feel free to borrow this one. Ivan and I both agree that this is the most beautiful of all the beaches. </div>
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So...that's that--we hit Kilauea, Hanalei, and Ha'ena state park!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBES_rNZVjg28hs43zLj86kMckasoyXtnlZbeFKCcTK2iKGtNF_g20HrjW-9JY6tC9N1fIavFp4Qh0Dr7BDEwvc0ke3Cq7AStqbLlsvP63MgoHec3FqkAi9P3pPclnKGZR53bH9Q/s1600/14.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="419" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBES_rNZVjg28hs43zLj86kMckasoyXtnlZbeFKCcTK2iKGtNF_g20HrjW-9JY6tC9N1fIavFp4Qh0Dr7BDEwvc0ke3Cq7AStqbLlsvP63MgoHec3FqkAi9P3pPclnKGZR53bH9Q/s640/14.png" width="640" /></a></div>Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-75376762002722266242012-05-03T23:20:00.002-07:002012-05-03T23:23:17.771-07:00A quick note about family trees...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhervq3T6Awl4kLw6j7Gr4o87Tn-QTLoiyJFyYARPtOvwBzAZj_UfC53_uDlNl3bYHSxRPoELrd7yQslfhyphenhyphenwCp_Udm0dObUYYYYTnewfEMgmq8bYuXovNhjnTyzM6QmaxLrem-d0A/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-05-03+at+8.01.55+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhervq3T6Awl4kLw6j7Gr4o87Tn-QTLoiyJFyYARPtOvwBzAZj_UfC53_uDlNl3bYHSxRPoELrd7yQslfhyphenhyphenwCp_Udm0dObUYYYYTnewfEMgmq8bYuXovNhjnTyzM6QmaxLrem-d0A/s640/Screen+shot+2012-05-03+at+8.01.55+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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I count myself a pretty lucky person. One of the bajillion reasons is that someday my kids could have THESE gorgeous genes added to our family tree... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRLO_PHVxcmkagmau1QR57SvRhokBR5sp1caFK1K7aX-wzTIx6MfJyTZZn8VsUBguLaQpg1ZqxSHbkdMLoi8fOqKr1p0SWTR6q3DPxWij5G1Wu_GiPIjbSal1hBCYNojjVZ9Kog/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-05-03+at+7.09.15+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRLO_PHVxcmkagmau1QR57SvRhokBR5sp1caFK1K7aX-wzTIx6MfJyTZZn8VsUBguLaQpg1ZqxSHbkdMLoi8fOqKr1p0SWTR6q3DPxWij5G1Wu_GiPIjbSal1hBCYNojjVZ9Kog/s640/Screen+shot+2012-05-03+at+7.09.15+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Are you seeing this?<br />
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Here, I'll show you again. </div>
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My sister-in-law is so freaking gorgeous. She glows. And she's got a spirit to match. </div>
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Model stance...and she's honestly not even trying! She didn't even know I was snapping a pic.</div>
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My future kiddos are so dang lucky. </div>
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What's that my little future children? Oh...your cool factor? Yeah, you get that from your Dad's side of the family. </div>
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Your love of cheese and ability to whistle? All me babycakes. That's ALL me. </div>Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-6119330723209571612012-05-01T13:52:00.004-07:002012-05-01T13:54:21.569-07:00Farewell tour { p a r t - I }<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yep, it's time to go back home. But before we leave this beautiful
island, you can bet we're going to visit all of our favorite places! </div>
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First up: Waimea Canyon</div>
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It's pretty breathtaking, and sometimes it makes my feet hurt to go up to the edge of the railing, but it's so beautiful, that I "nailed my courage to the sticking place..."<br />
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I didn't spot any mountain goats this time around, but the <span style="font-size: large;"><i>ohia lehua</i></span> flowers were blooming. </div>
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There's a legend about how Pele the fire goddess was in love with a man named Ohia and wanted to marry him--but he had already pledged his love to Lehua. Naturally--jealous Pele was furious and as punishment she turned Ohia into a gnarled ugly tree. Lehua begged Pele to turn him back--but was refused. So Lehua begged the other gods to turn her man back--instead they turned her into a flower that would blossom on the tree. The story goes that if you pick a lehua blossom, it will rain--because they've been separated. </div>
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Gorgeous Nelssie was able to come visit us for our farewell tour. I think Hawaii agrees with her. </div>
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She could be a decedent of Pele, don't you think?</div>
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Here's Ivan doing an excellent impression of the funky sticker sign...(which probably read no posting stickers, and stay on the other side of the wall! ) One foot past this sign, is the cliff...and I couldn't see the bottom of the canyon. Yipes!</div>Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-80304412841843537162012-05-01T12:11:00.001-07:002012-05-01T12:13:40.508-07:00A May Day post! {Our Trip to Pearl Harbor}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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{I kinda sorta wish downtown Honolulu still looked like this...}</div>
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{ Really cool map at the Pearl Harbor memorial park} </div>
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{This was docked in the harbor, but we came too late to take a tour} </div>
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{Feeling very far away from the mainland all of a sudden...} </div>
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{Swabbing the decks of the <i>Nevada </i>--cir 1940}</div>
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{Took this picture of what you'd see through the periscope. } </div>
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{Arizona memorial--very tiny on the left}</div>
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<span id="goog_495595199"></span><span id="goog_495595200"></span>Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-41071704626033126882012-04-21T12:41:00.000-07:002012-04-21T13:17:32.780-07:00Birthday Blessings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On March 30th 1992--My 8th birthday, I stood in front of this beautiful building, just after having been <a href="http://mormon.org/faq/#Baptism" target="_blank">baptized</a> by my Dad, in the Pacific Ocean. <br />
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On March 30th 2012 -- My 27th birthday, I finally got to <a href="http://mormon.org/faq/#Temples%7Cquestion=/faq/purpose-of-temples/" target="_blank">go inside</a> the <a href="http://www.ldschurchtemples.com/laie/" target="_blank">Laie Hawaii LDS temple.</a> It was a dream come true, and an amazing miracle on how we got to be there! Ivan and I had been just wishing we could go--being SO close--(just an island away!)...but didn't know how we'd ever be able to island hop on a tight budget. <br />
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Perhaps you think you've got some pretty great parents, but let me tell you--mine are pretty stellar too. They planned this whole excursion for us to go, plane tickets, car rental and all--AND babysat our chickens and goats while we were gone for the day.<br />
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If you had a miracle happen in you life, would you recognize it? This was a miracle for me.<br />
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And what a gorgeous day we had! Look at that sky! No dreary grey March here. <br />
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These trees by the visitors center used to have all sorts of messages written--scratched-- on them, but I guess they've all fallen off and grown a new batch by now, huh? <br />
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After working/worshiping/learning/crying/rejoicing/pondering/listening in the Temple, I wandered the grounds and talked with the gardener. I told him all about my Great-Great (great?) Grandfather Davis who organized the first Boy Scout troop on the island and who planted the royal palms that line the fountain up to the temple. He smiled and told me he had the best job in the whole world.<br />
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The design on the right symbolizes the Hawaiian tree of royalty and birthright, it was inside the temple as well.<br />
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The other symbol all over the inside of the temple was the Kukui leaf and nut. <i>Kukui </i>translates to "light". The Hawaiians would burn the oil from the nuts for lamps. It's also the symbol for enlightenment, protection and peace. <br />
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All around the top of the temple are these amazing carvings. ART HISTORY TIME!</div>
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{<i> Hopefully if you click on these they'll get bigger</i> } </div>
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OLD TESTAMENT: In the middle is Adam, and Eve is kneeling at the alter of sacrifice. There's Moses sitting by the tree, with the tablets on his lap, and Israel represented by the woman on the far right--looking forward to a Messiah. </div>
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NEW TESTAMENT: Mary waits with a shepherd on the left, John the Baptist is featured and Christ in the center, and his left hand is restraining Peter from using a sword (remember that part?), while Jesus heals a blind man. Cornelius is seeking baptism from Peter, and we've got Saul/Paul being touched by the rays of light--then the edict of Constantine, the growth of the church and the reformation. Whew! That's some history to cover in one tight frieze. <br />
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<a href="http://mormon.org/faq/#Book+of+Mormon%7Cquestion=/faq/christ-in-america/" target="_blank">ANCIENT AMERICAS:</a> Lehi holding the Hebrew scriptures in the far right, followed by his young son Jacob and Nephi standing up to his brother Laman. Then we have the "Title of Liberty" and Samuel the Lamanite looking at the star. Christ, again in the center signifying his visit to the "other sheep I have that are not of this flock"...then the story of Hagoth sailing and expedition in a canoe never to return (believed to be the descendant of the Polynesian people) and interestingly we have on the far left, Colombia (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Columbia_%28name%29" target="_blank">the United States personified</a>.) with a shield and a protective hand over the people of Hawaii...</div>
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MODERN DAY: The young boy Joseph kneeling and seeking an answer to prayer with God and Christ in the center. Notice a family in the background representing the family bonds that are connected through the ordinances in the temples. Also see Women representing the Relief society and the divinity of motherhood. </div>
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Below is another amazing piece by Avard Fairbanks -- MATERNITY --</div>
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(Which unfortunately in our society has come to be only tied to pregnancy--so lets go back the original meaning of MOTHERHOOD. Because let's be real, you don't have to birth a child to be a Mom. )</div>
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The plaque at the visitors center says it was done to add "charm and spiritual significance to the landscape."<i> Charm?</i> How about, "Finally, a piece of art that honors and gives some voice to something <a href="http://mormon.org/faq/#Family" target="_blank">we profess to hold in high esteem!</a>" </div>
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Anyway, it was still lovely and I was happy to see it there...and check it out, she's wearing at lei! </div>
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<br /></div>Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-44594565449331756212012-03-28T15:15:00.000-07:002012-03-28T16:11:04.946-07:00We found an Alien at the beach!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Look what we found washed up in the sand on Kealia Beach! I've never seen anything like it--and so we brought home some sea water to observe it for 24 hours... <br />
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Any ideas on what it could be? It likes to curl up and use it's tentacles like an octopus--but doesn't propel itself through the water at all...<br />
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Is it a baby....something? A hatch-ling of a...manta ray + squid? It's so bizarre! <br />
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We've affectionately named it "Stitch."<br />
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UPDATE! This little guy is more dangerous than he looks <a href="http://www.seathos.org/tag/blue-dragon-nudibranch/" target="_blank">http://www.seathos.org/tag/blue-dragon-nudibranch/ </a>Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-39608716398007555062012-03-26T15:26:00.001-07:002012-03-26T15:26:26.298-07:00Where all the Crazy Uncles Go...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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{ Be safe out there bra...}</div>Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-843797134385071362012-03-14T14:56:00.001-07:002012-03-14T14:57:29.940-07:00Have you met my friend? { Lauren }<br />
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{<i> Isn't Lo-Lo so gorgeous!?! She's one of those people who you're kind of are surprised exist in real life and not just on T.V.</i>} </div>
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So-- a long, long time ago, I went to college in a far away state, and using the skills I'd learned in kindergarten-- I made my first friend. You see, there was a giant blizzard, and she was my neighbor and I like to think that she saved me from a bleak and sorry looking freshman year, because I actually think she did. <br />
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<a href="http://www.laurenslatest.com/" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Meet Lauren! </span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSS31Jyuvd-jshpy9jUOv3YA3ps92I0FlknJcctk4tDUaZqC2P8B_hs1NZnWWVxlGgy_LjEGKutPw1C67rj58Q0-L-7v2kGAn-WRP8O3RYsChkmoxewqama9uoIggzbe-qb_3g3Q/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-03-14+at+11.18.25+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSS31Jyuvd-jshpy9jUOv3YA3ps92I0FlknJcctk4tDUaZqC2P8B_hs1NZnWWVxlGgy_LjEGKutPw1C67rj58Q0-L-7v2kGAn-WRP8O3RYsChkmoxewqama9uoIggzbe-qb_3g3Q/s640/Screen+shot+2012-03-14+at+11.18.25+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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{ <i>This is the typical gorgeous deliciousness you can find on her <a href="http://draft.blogger.com/goog_238594062">website</a></i><a href="http://www.laurenslatest.com/" target="_blank">.</a>..<i>on the left there are Individual Blackberry Tarts and Almond & Vanilla</i> <i>Bean Rice Pudding... </i></div>
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<i>Don't they make you want to be a food photographer? }</i></div>
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I feel pretty special that I was there for the beginning! As her roommate and was often the lucky recipient of <a href="http://www.laurenslatest.com/double-chocolate-silk-cream-pie-a-k-a-the-pie-that-got-me-married/" target="_blank">Double Chocolate Silk Cream Pie <i> </i></a>(<i>a.k.a. the pie that got her married --haha!) </i>and ohhh those wonderful muffins. </div>
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Not only is she a fantastic cook, but she's <i>H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S</i>. </div>
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So, go on. Just go over and say, "Hello." Make a new friend! Find a great recipe for PI(E) DAY!</div>
<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-40614334296468624332012-03-06T20:53:00.001-08:002012-03-06T20:54:51.205-08:00On the Eve before Purim<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On my wall calendar I have a reminder that tomorrow is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purim" target="_blank">Purim.</a> Although I'm not Jewish, this little reminder sends me back to reread the story of Esther.<br />
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{ The word <i>Pûrîm </i>from the word <i>Pur </i>which means "Lots" -because evil Haaman cast lots to decide which day to carry out the massacre.}<br />
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I wonder how she felt, being adopted by Mordecai and growing up in Persia. I wonder how she felt being chosen to marry this strange and powerful king based purely on her outward beauty. I wonder if she made friends with the other wives. <br />
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How would it be to know the fate of your people rests in your limited power?<br />
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How would it be to know you could be snuffed out with a glance from the king? <br />
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Would I have the courage to wrestle through the politics, and oppression to battle at my <i>banquet table</i> and would I have the strength accuse my overlord's right hand man? <br />
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Esther is amazing.<br />
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She's not a trophy wife. <i>Not one bit. </i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #9fc5e8;">"...and who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for <span class="clarityWord">such</span> a time as this?" -</i><span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Esther 4:14</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">I don't know what battles you're fighting lately. I don't know if you're fighting for your people, or your life, or just to get through the day on your terms. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">But Esther grieved. Esther fasted. And then...she stood up and put her royal clothes on. And with the strength of millions praying for her... </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">she threw a dinner party. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">She prepared her heart, listened to the spirit and won. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Like I said. Esther is amazing. </span></span></span></span></div>
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{<i>Do you know who else is amazing? Minerva Teichart!</i>}</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/q8nTS-tq7fY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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{Here's a video about the model for this painting--Betty Curtis Stokes now age 92}</div>
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<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-15686086465489992642012-02-22T13:49:00.000-08:002012-02-22T13:59:48.483-08:00Have you met my friends? { Michael & Susan }<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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{ <i>The morning I stopped by we had Blueberry + Cream cheese Stuffed French Toast. You might run into a Crab-meat Quiche or a heavenly plate of Gypsy Eggs Benedict. I'm droolin' thinkin'!}</i></div>
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Oh! You haven't met Susan and Michael of the <a href="http://www.welchhouseinn.com/index.php" target="_blank">Welch House Inn</a> ?<br />
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You mean, I haven't bragged enough about this cool couple? Well let's remedy that right now!<br />
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I'm pretty convinced that people come into your life for a reason...and you may meet them in the most random of places. I met Susan, backstage during a theater production where she offered me a job for my off-tracks during college. <br />
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If the reason for me to meet them was to learn more about human decency, real community, the craft of warm hospitality, and how to have more fun working in a 140 year old shipbuilder's home on the coast of Maine, than you ever have before? Mission accomplished. <br />
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{ <i>Can't you picture yourself cuddling by the fire, and flipping through the many interesting art books on the shelves, or sipping a glass of something fine and sparkly while you catch up with my favorite Innkeepers?</i> }<br />
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These two are the real deal ; witty, hardworking, creative, driven and so <i>multi-talented.</i> I was very blessed to become a part of their adopted family. <br />
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{ <i>Best view in town? No kidding.</i> }</div>
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{ <i>The Inn is celebrating it's 90th year in the hospitality industry! Wow, 1922 - 2012</i>} </div>
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If you're looking for a place to stay in Boothbay Harbor, Maine, you already know my highest recommendation.</div>
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Ooooh and guess what? I think they're having <a href="http://www.welchhouseinn.org/specials.php" target="_blank">a celebration special</a>! (And no, they didn't pay me to post this--- they're just good people. ) <br />
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{ <i>Summers in Maine! What could be better?</i>} </div>
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<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-21404327260510800942012-02-17T10:30:00.000-08:002012-02-17T10:31:13.024-08:00Have you met my friend? { Amanda }<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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{" '<i>...books are always good company if you have the right sort. Let me pick some out for you.' </i></div>
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<i>And Mrs. Jo made a bee-line to the well-laden shelves, which were the joy of her heart, </i></div>
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<i>and the comfort of her life." -Louisa May Alcott } </i></div>
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This is my friend Amanda, and you guys should be so lucky to have a friend like her. She is fiercely loyal, terrifically fun, (and may I mention--a chocolate-chip cookie queen), sincerely heartfelt and has the <i>best laugh</i> of.... all... time. </div>
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<i> </i></div>
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If you could find Jo March reincarnated, it would be <i>her</i>. She writes stories of wild imaginings. She threatens to throttle the worst of human kind, she goes on adventures to big cities, she quietly observes, dives after her dreams, makes friends with uncertainty & chance, and sings at the top of her lungs. </div>
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But better than any character, she is <a href="http://randomanda.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">REAL</a>. </div>
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And today....<i>twenty-seven</i> years ago she was born. <i></i></div>
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<i>Can I get an AMEN?!</i></div>
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Today, if you can spare the time, (like--really, what are you going to do--watch another episode of Downton Abbey?) you really should grab a cup of tea, and a tasty cookie-- and read all the back pages of her blog-life. She'd be totally embarrassed that I even suggested it---but really--she's a gem. </div>Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-11316486520214502362012-02-11T17:41:00.000-08:002012-02-11T17:41:16.838-08:00Dear Kauai Museum,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You know, 50 years is something to be proud of. What a wonderful collection of artifacts, artwork, and history you've acquired! Here's the thing though--being 50 means you're old enough to really work it? Ya know? If you needed someone to say it--here it is: It's time to be great. <br /><br />I give you permission to really go all out. <br />
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The entrance can be a real entrance. It's okay! You don't have to guess about who's Kama'aina, or who is just going to the gift shop. Move your desk. We can line up, sign the guest book, get excited about the exhibits, without accidentally spying them <i>all</i> before we even pay to look. Make it official. It's time.<br /><br />
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Give us something to connect to. So many gods and goddesses, and royalty of Hawai'i---we're dying for their stories! Why not put up a poster of a famous story about Pele, next to this compelling portrait. Have a display explaining the reign of kings and queens of the islands, instead of your patrons looking at them, shuffling past wondering how to pronounce that word. <br />
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Ohhhhh the quilts! Isn't it time they get their own real exhibit? Instead of being placed up on the stairs? Maybe you just ran out of space, but wouldn't it be great to tell the stories of the quilts? The meaning behind all the patterns? What does a breadfruit represent? What about a anthurium? Can we get pictures of tutus sewing them? How long does it take? Who started this tradition? We could talk story about that for ages! <br />
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I commend you on your WWII exhibit, but I'm sad it's so far away, behind the Hawaiian/Victorian era. <br />
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The lovely case full of artifacts lining the balcony is intriguing, but so mysterious. What ARE these weapons, and medals, and dolls? <br />
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These amazing 40's tourist pictures made me want to cry when I saw them in their case. I wanted to blow each of them up to poster size! <br />
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How about some commentary about the idea of 'pagan' Hawaiian and the tourist trade? More of the Coco Palms resort story? Why is it a ghostly rundown shack now? What happened to the exploitation of the swishy grass skirts and the twangy ukulele through films and music? What's with the 1950s movie loop of the lei-day parade upstairs?<br />
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Happy 50th guys. I mean it. That's awesome. <br /><br />And if I ask really, <i>really</i> nicely--can I please work for you? <br />
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-Aloha from a presumptuous museum freak. Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884663.post-42016267117369453532012-02-01T18:16:00.000-08:002012-02-01T18:16:17.898-08:00Making a ti leaf lei<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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{<i>I love this Hawaiian motto. It said to have been uttered by King Kamehameha III when sovereignty was again restored to the island nation, after Queen Victoria's troops had occupied it for 5 months. See? I remember some Hawaiian history! You know what else I remembered how to do? Make LEIS!}</i></div>
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{<i>Ti leaf leis are for good luck. Tradition states that you should never wear the lei if you are going to give it to someone else. Oh, and pregnant aunties are always to wear an open lei.</i> </div>
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<i>I remember the smell of my mom making ti leaf leis...and how sometimes they'd be slimy after taking them out of the freezer. It's been <u>at least </u>18 years since I made one, but it came back to be pretty quick--with the help of my mom --the master lei-maker--on the phone.</i>}</div>
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{<i>After gathering your leaves cut the middle rib out.</i>}</div>
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{<i>Then get some water near to boiling, and stick your leaves in there until they're limp and not crunchy---less than a minute</i>. <i>Take them out with tongs, or chopsticks, and place them someplace to cool off--like a colander, or a plate.</i>}</div>
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{<i>Take two leaves and tie a knot, and loop it around your big toe! This is how I remember being taught, but I guess you could stick it under a heavy book, or a table leg--trust me, toes are more fun</i>}</div>
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{<i>Both leaves get turned to the RIGHT, and you cross them over the LEFT--you're making a rope. Incorporate new leaves by twisting them into the rope, you can even leave the new leaves a little room to poke out before you start twisting away-- and add some dimension to the lei. When you're done, tie a knot!</i>} </div>
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{<i>So, I'm "hapa" now, right guys? Ha ha, I'm kidding! </i>}</div>
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<br />Kajehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467560795560678206noreply@blogger.com2