tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15209541265760146012024-03-20T23:44:26.958-07:00I Drool Black And GoldA look inside of our crazy lives as father/mother, husband/wife, and (perhaps our most interesting role of all)...juggling three kids while trying to keep our head above water!Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11895406196795722068noreply@blogger.comBlogger135125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-24489761710256102562015-09-09T07:54:00.002-07:002015-09-09T07:54:45.114-07:00The last first dayBeing a mom of three, the emotions that I had as a new mom dramatically changed as I became a veteran mom, especially when certain milestones came along. Hudson's first day of school was when he was 3.5 years old. I couldn't bear to think of him in a big, scary school any younger than that. To be honest, I could barely stand the idea at 3.5. The anxieties clouded all other thoughts. "What if he misses me? How will the teachers know what he needs? What if he's scared?" Over time, I was able to calm my worries and see how great the experience was for him. Maybe that's why when I sent Hadley to school (at 2.5 years old, no less), I didn't even shed a tear. I was excited for her. With Hayes starting school this year (also at 2.5 years old), I didn't expect any big emotions for me. We went to orientation yesterday and I stayed with him in his classroom for an hour. He played. He explored. He protested when it was time to leave. We went back today. He ran in, straight for his favorite items that he discussed at bedtime last night. He was ready for this adventure, as was I. Today, I stayed with him for 15 minutes then had to leave. No problem. I've done this twice before. This time around I didn't even think once about this moment for days leading up to it. So you can imagine my surprise when I walked out of the classroom, and like a freight train collision, the emotions slammed right into my heart. I was crying before I even got to the front door of the school. What was happening?? Right then, my heart was crying over this last first. My last baby was going to his first day of school without me. I was leaving my last baby for the first time. My last baby, without me. As if potty training and pacifier weaning haven't already told me, that separation symbolized the reality that Hayes is growing up. <br />
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#stillmybabyjustnotababy<br />
#nothisdoesnotmeananymorebabiesJennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-49317628676953949182015-02-27T11:42:00.001-08:002015-02-27T11:42:17.272-08:00The minds of children are fascinatingLast night during bedtime stories, Hadley turned to Ryan and asked "Daddy, I know everything about Frozen. What do you know everything about?" After Hadley was fast asleep, Ryan was telling me about their sweet conversation. So today after I picked her up from school, I asked her about it and what Daddy's answers were. She said "Daddy knows everything about technology, computers, and coding". I smiled knowing that was likely the answer he gave her. Then she says "Mommy, what do you know everything about?" I'm thinking and thinking and don't have an answer lined up so I just say "well, I know a lot about being healthy and cooking healthy foods for the family" (I'm on day 10 of a Whole30 which is likely why my brain went there). She corrects me and says "no Mommy, you know a lot about love". Beaming, I just hug her and say "that's right Hadley. I do know a lot about love". She continues by saying "everyone knows a lot about love. All the people. Except the bad people. Like the people who hit the planes into the twin towers. They don't know about love. No body teached them". I was just flabbergasted. I can't imagine how she thought of 9/11. And to see her understanding of love, just left me in awe of her natural innocence and empathic nature.<br />
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#thisgirlmakestheworldabetterplaceJennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-65983398884945921552015-02-23T08:45:00.001-08:002015-02-24T11:40:26.491-08:00An emotional endThere are so many "firsts" and "lasts" that come with being a parent. I found that I have celebrated the firsts without acknowledging most of the lasts. However, I am drawn back to this blog (which has been neglected for months) to celebrate/acknowledge/mourn the end of a very special period of my life. Last Friday, February 13th, 2015, I nursed Hayes, my last baby, for the last time.<br />
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The end to our nursing relationship was unplanned and rather abrupt. Hudson became ill and Ryan fled to his parents with Hadley and Hayes in tow in an attempt to keep them germ free. What was meant to be a 24 hour period (after which I would have easily nursed Hayes again) turned into a three day separation. The morning that they were to return home I cried (and cried and cried) while washing dishes because I knew that now was the right time to wean, despite the emotional turbulence it was causing me.<br />
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At 27 months old, I knew Hayes no longer needed the nutrition...in fact, I don't think there was even any milk left for him to drink. But nursing was our calm. It was our solution to scraped knees. It was our comfort against big feelings in his little body. It was our warmth when the cold overwhelmed. It was our bond. And it had been for his lifetime. <br />
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A small part of me was sad for Hayes. I knew that he would want to nurse and I would have to tell him no. I wasn't really sure how he would handle it, but I was okay with him being a little upset and angry with me. So fear of his response wasn't what was causing my reaction.<br />
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The most difficult part was the thought of a very important chapter in my life closing forever. It took me six days to find the strength to even right this post and I'm still sitting here typing through tears. I was "one of those women" who LOVED everything about being pregnant and breastfeeding. Watching my belly, my family, and my life grow before my eyes gave me a feeling of pride, strength, and true happiness. Feeling those baby kicks was magical. Friends and oogling strangers were welcomed to touch my belly, ask when I was due, and congratulate me. I loved the attention to the miracle that was taking place and proud of my part in it. When the baby came and I loved getting to meet him/her. That first rooting of the mouth looking for the breast combined with the knowledge of what the baby needs and that I can provide it is empowering beyond words. The first few weeks came with their hurdles as my body and baby's worked together to figure out how to get this right. But after that, we were smooth sailing. All of those times when I wasn't quite sure what the baby needed, I would offer my breast and he or she would take it, gratefully. All of those images of a milk-drunk newborn sleeping on my chest. All of the signs (in sign language) for "milk". All of that warmth, those connections, those bonds, and the foundation of my relationship with each of my children. And all of those times have come to an end. I am proud of myself (and my children) for nursing for approximately 67 months. Five and a half of my 35 years have been dedicated to nourishing my children with milk and with love. We have done a great thing together, me and my children. And I am grateful for each and every one of those minutes. I offer a saddened farewell to my childrearing years and know that the next time I feel this connected with a baby won't happen until I welcome grandchildren. <br />
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If the shortened pant legs and the expanding vocabularies weren't enough of a sign, then certainly this last drop of milk is. My babies are growing up.<br />
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#bittersweet<br />
#endofanera<br />
<br />Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-27858332785937231152014-05-22T10:44:00.000-07:002014-05-22T10:44:25.251-07:00The Deadly Lion King<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Despite being connected 24/7 and having a video camera available on my iPhone at every moment of the day, it always seems that there are moments that I would love to capture for all of eternity yet they sneak by. Man, what I would give to have this moment on video to watch over and over again...<br />
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Let me set the scene. Hudson is taking piano lessons at school and has been since February. He's not a big fan of piano and getting him to practice at home is liking pulling teeth. He has a recital coming up and we've been working on Ode to Joy with him. <br />
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The school had an informal showing for the parents. I totally messed up and forgot to mark my calendar so I get a call at 5:37p asking if we are coming (the showing started at 5:30). I hurry up, tell Hudson put on nicer clothes, throw Hayes in the stroller and make Hudson and Hadley run with me to school (only a block away). We rush in and the other students have just finished their pieces, so Hudson is up. In the rush to leave, I grabbed my camcorder (is that what they're still called?) since I knew my phone would run out of space. Hudson stands up, says his name and the title of his pieces, plays, bows, and sit back down with the other students. I got it all on tape right before the battery dies. At this point, the piano teacher asks the students if they have any other pieces they would like to share. Three students raise their hands. One of them is Hudson. HUH??? My mind is racing to think what other pieces he might remember. Since he hates to practice, nothing really comes to mind. So....<br />
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The first student walks to the piano and introduces her piece. She said she will now play Fur Elise and busts it out. With no sheet music. Beethoven. I look over at the mom and smile. She smiles back and said "I taught her that at home."<br />
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Okay, now I'm panicking a bit because what the F*&# is Hudson going to play. <br />
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Ms. Cassie, the teacher, asks for volunteers again, and again, Hudson raises his hand. Another student is asked to come up.<br />
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The second student walks up and my mind is racing so I'm not sure what she says she's going to play. She sits there, with no sheet music, and plays this long, beautiful piece. I watch her focus and count beats by nodding her head, pausing when appropriate. Everyone claps.<br />
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Once again, Ms. Cassie asks if anyone has a piece they want to share. Hudson walks up. "Oh man, this is going to be epic" is what goes through my head. <br />
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Hudson says "My piece is called the Deadly Lion King". Ummmm, what is about to happen?<br />
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He sits down and starts to play on the low end of the piano and then the high. Then a few notes on the low end and a few more on the high. This goes on for what feels like 10 mins. It's taking everything I have to not bust at the seams. <br />
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People clap, I'm cracking up, and Hudson is proud. <br />
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As we walk home, I ask him about his piece. He tells me that the low notes were for the Daddy (he was Mufasa in the school play) and the high notes were for the Mommy. I complement him on his creativity and kick myself for not having this performance on video. I still crack up every time I replay it in my mind. "My piece is called the Deadly Lion King". OMG, I love this kid.<br />
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#DeadlyLionKing<br />
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Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11895406196795722068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-70214683154306280852014-03-13T08:33:00.002-07:002014-03-13T08:33:35.931-07:00My heart is in the work. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Some days, parenting is just hard (okay, <i>most</i> days, parenting is hard). The majority of the tough days come from a combination of whines, cries, defiance, and fitting everything in during a 24 hour period. But then there are the days like I had a few days ago. The days when difficulty arises from our anxieties about parenthood, about our choices, our values, and our abilities to pass those on to our children. I am a firm believer of trusting my gut, while at the same time being an intentional parent and not passive in my decision making. This approach requires a lot of work. I do my fair share of research on a topic, internalize and process what I learned, then make an informed decision based on what the "experts" say (the researchers and authors) and the true experts on our kids (me and Ryan). I try to determine when there is hype and where there is validity. The perfect example is sleep training. I've read the books. I've read the research. I've listened to other's sob and success stories. In the end, we had to go with our gut and choose what is right for us. <br />
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Despite all of my research and thought behind parenting, there's a fine line to walk. You have to be mindful and not get swept up in things that may seem to matter, but really don't. Your kid is saying his ABCs at 18m? Great, but I'm okay if my kid isn't. Your kid is reading at age 4? That's awesome, but it's not going to make me judge my kid if he/she isn't. In fact, it seems that <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/answer-sheet/wp/2014/02/06/a-really-scary-headline-about-kindergarteners/?tid=pm_local_pop" target="_blank">"kindergarten is the new first grade"</a>; we are getting so caught up in the race to doing things earlier, faster, and better, that we often aren't thinking about the impacts this has on our children.<br />
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Ryan and I discuss our thoughts and goals for raising our children and then base our actions on all of this. As you can imagine, it's work. A lot of it. When approaching all of parenting this way, it's near impossible to fit everything in. Some things slide. The other day was just a reminder for me that I was slipping and needed to get my feet back on the ground and get back to work.<br />
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I don't think Andrew Carnegie had parenting in mind when he said "my heart is in the work", but there isn't a role that fits that quote better than the work of being a parent. My heart is in it, fully dedicated and committed.<br />
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#parentingishard<br />
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Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11895406196795722068noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-30367583374131579152014-03-04T08:44:00.000-08:002014-03-04T08:45:26.140-08:00Sometimes you just get it right.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Living in a world of excess, I often struggle with how my kids will learn gratitude. I don't give in to every request, but more often than not, my kids just get things because they can. Maybe it's the $3 Mario minifigure that Hudson requests when we are at Target, or it's the $10 marker set that I pick up for Hadley just because I know she likes to color. Not because it's their birthdays or Christmas. But just because...well...why not? It's easy to justify by thinking "eh, it's the same price as a cup of Starbucks and it will make them so (temporarily) happy". I'm trying to be more mindful of this and constantly talking about how much the kids have to be grateful for. While it's easy to give material examples to satisfy their need for concrete reasoning, I often wonder if I'm cutting them short by not discussing the more abstract "things" to be thankful for. Either way, I'm trying harder and harder to implement a sense of gratitude. One way I've been doing this is in their nightly prayers. <br />
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We have a routine of saying prayers like this:<br />
"Now I lay me down to sleep<br />
I pray the Lord my soul to keep<br />
That angels watch me through the night<br />
Until I wake in the morning light.<br />
Dear God, Thank you so much for this wonderful day. Today we...<insert a="" day="" did="" during="" everything="" of="" summary="" the="" we="">. And now we're getting ready to go night night. We pray for all of our friends and family like Mom Mom and Pop Pop, Grami and Pappy, Uncle Kevin and Colleen, Uncle Bobby and Baby Riley, and Uncle Joey. We pray for Mommy, and Daddy, and Hudson, and Hadley, and Hayes, and Ruby. We pray for all of our friends and teachers in Baltimore and all of our friends and teachers in New Jersey. We pray that we have a great night's sleep and a wonderful day tomorrow. Amen."</insert><br />
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At the end of the summary of our day, I've been asking the kids what they were thankful for that day. On the first night, Hadley thinks for a minute and says "You. I'm thankful for you." (I'm tearing up just typing that). Then she continues "Actually I'm thankful for our whole family. Daddy and Hayes and Hudson too". "Wow", I tell her. "Hadley, that is a wonderful thing to be thankful for". Not to be outdone, Hudson hears the praise I'm giving her and says "I have a good one too. I'm thankful for Old Pap." My grandfather, "Old Pap", passed away in November. (Someone please hand my mom a tissue.). <br />
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Wow, I thought, wow. Maybe I'm doing something right. <br />
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#gratitudeattitude<br />
#familyiswhatitsallabout<br />
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**UPDATE**<br />
So, I started this post a few days ago and didn't get to finish. Last night, we went through the same routine. Again, when asked what she was thankful, Hadley pointed to me. "Awww, thanks Had. I'm thankful for you too". But then she starting shaking her head. She does this thing where she doesn't want to talk so instead does a series of grunts and noises to try to make a point. She grabs my necklace and says "ehhh". "My necklace? You're thankful for my necklace?" "UMM HUH!!" Then my rings she grabs "ehhh". "And you're thankful for my rings?" Nodding happily, "UH HUH!!" <br />
Okay so maybe we have to work on the material possession thing. She did say she was thankful for me <i>before</i> she said she was thankful for diamonds....<br />
#diamondsarepretty<br />
#girlsbestfriend</div>
Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11895406196795722068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-11606601409043175852014-02-08T18:38:00.000-08:002014-02-08T18:39:17.840-08:00The consequences of an unattended toddlerRemember in my <a href="http://idroolblackandgold.blogspot.com/2014/02/so-blur-of-november-and-december-has.html" target="_blank">last blog post</a> how I said that I couldn't take my eyes off of Hayes? Let me show you why...<br />
On Friday morning, I took him upstairs so that I could get dressed and he got into my perfumes. He smelled like a mixture of every scent possible. Then he refused to take his morning nap which is when I usually make breakfast and have coffee. Since he didn't want to sleep, I had to go out on a limb and focus on cooking and not on Hayes. This is what happens:<br />
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Hayes decided to get the party started a little early and dump a full bottle of vodka on his feet and the floor. The mixture of the perfume and the vodka now made Hayes smell like he was working the late shift at the Hustler club. <br />
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<i>Yes, Hayes. I was looking longingly at the bottle at this point as well. It was 9:40am.</i></div>
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So, I started to clean up the vodka, leaving Hayes unattended once again. As I threw away the last paper towel, I started to look for him and couldn't find him. Because he decided to go INSIDE of my coat closet. </div>
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I did a better job of monitoring him until that dreaded moment came: I had to go to the bathroom. I'm always stuck in a conundrum here, weighing my options. Do I bring him in the bathroom with me, knowing that he will take the plunger, wave it around the room, throw a tantrum when I take it away, then get up and climb onto the stool in front of the sink to grab and squeeze toothpaste? Or do I just leave the door open and hope for the best? I opted for #2. It got really quiet.....</div>
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He found a pacifier and climbed up the steps onto Hudson's bed. I could not believe it and told him "no Hayes, it's not safe to go up there!!!". He smiled and crouched down on the bed, so that I couldn't see him. "No", now that the meaning is understood, has started to elicit that type of response - let me look really cute and sorta hide so she can't be mad at me.</div>
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#hairturninggrey</div>
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Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11895406196795722068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-72880885066227600572014-02-06T19:34:00.002-08:002014-02-06T19:38:09.096-08:00Things To Not Forget: TTNFSo the blur of November and December has passed, and wait, it looks like January is gone too. Having three kids' birthdays within 6 weeks of each other, sandwiched between Thanksgiving and Christmas, along with a Type A birthday-momzilla is not a good combo. I had a first birthday party to plan in another state. And those who know me well know that the Prichard family motto is "Go big or go home". I had been pinning things for Hayes's monster birthday party for months while at the same time going on a creative binge of all things Lego for Hudson's 6th birthday. Between the hand made minifig chocolates and gummies, the personalized Lego coloring sheets, and every possible monster-themed item known to man for Hayes's party, I was spent. My poor middle child, who already gets the short end of my attention stick, was given the unfortunate position of having a birthday after the boys and right before Christmas. She didn't have a theme in mind, so she ended up with a pre-packaged party at a bounce house and was no less happy for it. I had every intention of an awesome blog post of each of their parties, partly because I wanted to have a record of the day and partly because I was proud of all my hard work, but it seems silly at this point, so I won't look behind and just keep on truckin' forward. <br />
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I've been thinking about this blog for days (weeks?) now and have been wanting to write, but I've been struggling with the time. Hayes hasn't been taking naps in solid chunks (waking after 30-40 mins, yet still tired, so I have to hold him in order for him to get in another 30-40 mins). When he's awake, my eyes are fixated on him. His newfound mobility has left me on high alert all day long. In one day a few weeks ago, he managed to fall down the stairs, open a bottle of kids' nail polish and eat the brush, eat hand sanitizer, eat hand cream....do you see the trend here? I can't take my eyes off of him. So forget about sitting down at my desk and focusing on coherent words. Not. Happening. <br />
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That leaves post-bedtime. I would love to hear how other moms' nights go, but this is what mine looks like. <br />
5p - scrambling to finish dinner and get it to the whining, hungry kids<br />
5:30p - give dinner to the kids<br />
5:45p - Ryan gets home, changes, and scarfs down some food<br />
6:15p - Ryan gets Hayes into the bath, I eat cold food while standing and cleaning the kitchen<br />
6:45p - Do the Hayes handoff back to me. Good night kisses for brother and sister<br />
7p - Nursing Hayes in the dark, checking email and Facebook<br />
7:30p - Hayes is asleep in his crib and I sneak back downstairs to find the kids and Ryan sitting on the couch or getting out of the bath, urging them to brush their teeth<br />
7:45p - still waiting for teeth to be brushed while listening to every excuse possible<br />
8p - Ryan and Hadley are reading books on the bottom bunk and me and Hudson reading on the top<br />
8:20p - I leave Hudson to read alone for a little bit while Ryan lays with Hadley. I either finish cleaning the kitchen or take a shower<br />
9p - Finish shower/ get dressed. Start to clean up the rest of the house<br />
9:30p - Look at the clock and curse at the fact that there is still stuff everywhere. How am I not done cleaning yet?!?<br />
9:45p - Time to relax! At least until Hayes wakes up in 45 minutes. <br />
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As you can see, there's not much time carved out to blog. I could start at 10p (like tonight), but my brain is usually fried and I just want to drink wine and watch TV with Ryan (this is usually my first chance to talk with him without constant interruptions) or jump in bed and read a little. <br />
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Anyways, that was a VERY longwinded way to say I'm still trying to figure out how to fit blogging into my life. There are so many things that I want to remember about being a mom. I see this as a place to store that. Sorta like a never ending baby book. A place to share all of those things that the kids do or say that don't have a pre-designated space in a dusty book that I barely open anyways. I spent my shower trying to think of a good acronym for those quotes/moments and the best I could come up with is TTNF - "Things To Not Forget". I hope to make quick updates tagged TTNF so that I can go back and read these things and smile at the memory. <br />
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Today, Hudson gave me a perfect example of a TTNF post. Hadley had ballet today, so it was just me and Hudson (and Hayes) walking home from school. This was our conversation:<br />
Me: How was your day?<br />
Hudson: Good. There's a girl, Aliza, in my class and she wants to marry me. [This was said right as we passed another mom. She put her hand over her mouth to hide her giggle as I smile].<br />
Me: Oh, wow! Why does she want to marry you?<br />
Hudson: Because I'm nice to her. Mom, can you come to pick me up a little later tomorrow [School ends at 3:15p and I got there around 3:05p today]<br />
Me: Sure. Why do you want me to come later?<br />
Hudson: So that I can spend time with her (referring to Aliza).<br />
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I was loving this conversation and tried to extend it, but Hudson didn't have much more to say. Later, we got into the house and he said "Mom, can you remind me to talk with Aliza tomorrow? I need to talk to her about this."<br />
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I am still smiling thinking about this. What struck me so much and made me so happy was the innocence with which he spoke. It was so nonchalant. "Yeah, there's a girl who wants to marry me." It was said the same way he would talk about how his friends gave each other ninja names. It was such a stark contrast to hear him talk about something so mature like that. It made me realize that he's growing up. That kids are starting to talk about adult things. And that one day, in the near future, he will be giddy and shy and bashful talking about girls with me. So I just relished in the moment and am happy relive it.<br />
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<br />Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11895406196795722068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-265054819785928042013-11-13T08:30:00.002-08:002013-11-13T08:30:50.518-08:00SixHudson turned 6 years old today. There's something different about this birthday. Maybe it's the lanky body that barely fits on my lap. Maybe it's Hudson's blossoming literacy. Maybe it's the fact that I now have to shop in the Boys' Department in clothing stores. For some reason, today feels strangely sad. Six no longer means baby or toddler, even though Hudson will always be my first "baby".<br />
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There have been many days, and many, MANY nights, when I have wished for him to grow up. Times when I prayed he would start to do things by himself. When will he put on his own clothes? When will he go to sleep by himself? When will he stay in his bed all night? As all of these life skills are mastered, I'm seeing less of my little boy who needs me and more of the independent boy I dreamed he would be.<br />
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Throughout these six years, Hudson and I have walked hand in hand throughout parenting. Without a manual, I learned to trust my gut and listen to his cues. He has guided me. There have been many times when I doubted my decisions and the paths that we chose. Today, he gave me a sign that we were doing just fine. We had his traditional Montessori birthday celebration at school. We talked about each year of Hudson's life. When we got to year six, his teacher looked at him and asked "Hudson, what is it that you like to do now that you're six?". I waited for the expected answer, that he likes to play with Legos or likes to watch football. Instead, Hudson replied "I like to play with my Dad. And my baby. And my sister". In that moment, as I beamed and blinked back tears, I knew we have done something right.<br />
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Hudson James, as you say goodbye to your toddler years and continue your journey through life, please know that I want nothing more than for you to share your kindness with the world. I see it everyday, from the way you tenderly watch after your brother and sister to the way you care for the other children in your classroom to the unprompted hugs and "I love you"s that you shower me with each day. Every day, stories of evil and corruption flood my newsfeeds, leaving me questioning humanity. Instead of feeling discouraged, I think of you and how the kindness you bring to the world makes it a better place. I pray that your kind spirit is what leads you through life. If there is one message I could give to you, it's that there is no amount of success, achievement, or accolades in this world that could replace your kindness. Please don't ever lose it.<br />
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Happy birthday Hudson James.<br />
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#tearfulmommy<br />
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<br />Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-30247312950944088412013-11-05T20:31:00.001-08:002013-11-05T20:31:33.775-08:00Birth story and bittersweet birthdaysThis post is brought to you by the letter B :)<br />
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One of the reasons I wanted to start this blog back up again was because I wanted to write down Hayes' birth story. I like to remember every minor detail and had high hopes for recording them all here. Then life happened. I had a newborn. And two toddlers. And was moving. The urgency to document the details got lost in the shuffle as did many of the details of that day. But here we are, one year later, and damn it, I will write this birth story!!!<br />
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The story actually starts on Sunday, November 4th. Ryan's mom, Jan, was staying with us in Baltimore because Hurricane Sandy left her house without power and water. She came down for heat, a shower, and a visit. We spent the day in the house, watching football. The Steelers were playing (they beat the Giants), but I was distracted. I was in serious nesting mode: all day was spent cleaning, washing laundry, baking, and cooking. Jan even made a comment that I should really take a break as I was on my (swollen) feet all day. <br />
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During this time, Ryan was traveling to NYC on the train multiple times each week. He would leave at 6a and get home that evening at 8p. That evening I asked when he thought he would stop traveling as my due date of November 15th was approaching. He told me that he would stay in Baltimore starting on November 12th. <br />
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The next morning, Monday November 5th, Ryan did his usual 4:45a wake up to get to the 6:12a train. I stayed in bed until it was time for me to get up for work which was just before 7am. I walked into the bathroom and happened to take my cell phone with me so I could check the weather for the day. As I was walking, I just felt a bit crampy and nauseous. I sat to go to the bathroom and and noticed that I had passed something (presumably the mucous plus). At 6:54a, I texted Ryan that I thought he should head back to Baltimore.<br />
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I walked into Hudson's room where Jan was still sleeping. I nudged her awake and said that I needed to go to the hospital. At this point, I started to experience what I assumed were contractions (with Hudson and Hadley, I was induced so I only knew what pitocin contractions felt like). I remember sitting on the stairs to our rooftop deck, in tons of pain. Ryan's mom got me some orange juice. I couldn't tell if I was going to throw up or pass out. We began to call around the neighborhood to see who could watch Hudson and Hadley until our nanny arrived at 8a. We finally got a hold of my dear friend, Jen. She said that her or her husband would be right over. I was somewhat hoping for her husband since he is a doctor and I wasn't sure I was going to make it. <br />
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Once Jen arrives and takes over, we get into my car. I know that I need to call my mom ASAP and tell her what's happening. She was in Pittsburgh and wouldn't get to Baltimore for the birth, but I had to keep her posted on the details. As we were driving, I would get a contraction and have to put the phone down while I clutched the door handle with white knuckles. This was all a bit much for Jan, who was trying to figure out if she should ask for a police escort as we passed the police station. The red lights in downtown Baltimore were not on our side that morning as it seemed like we stopped at each one.<br />
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We arrive at the hospital at 8am. A police officer/guard/someone in uniform at the emergency entrance got me a wheel chair and pushed me in as Jan went to park the car. It was a bit lonely to have to enter the hospital by myself, but the pain quickly made me forget any of that. <br />
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I was taken right into a triage room. They did an exam and confirmed that I was indeed in labor (no kidding Sherlock). I have no idea how far along I was because I couldn't hear anything over my moans. Jan had parked and was with me now. She said that Ryan was on his way. <br />
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I was taken into a delivery room. Jan was there. I was really moaning now. Just like the pregnant ladies in the movies. I was lying on my right side, clutching onto the bedrail so tightly. The nurse I had was not overly friendly and didn't seem too concerned about my state. They called the anesthesiologist<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;"> </span>in to start the epidural. I have no idea who was in my room. I didn't care who heard me scream. Ryan arrived at 8:45a, but I didn't see him as I couldn't even open my eyes. Him and his mom were rushed out as they were about to begin the epidural. They told me that they needed me to sit still and I couldn't promise that given the pain of the contractions. This part is a bit blurry to me now, but I think that my blood pressure dropped or something happened that they couldn't do the epidural and were going to come back in a few minutes. As they left, I was yelling that I needed to start pushing (it's true - you get an intense urge to just push). I was still on my right side, paralyzed with pain. The unfriendly nurse told me that I needed to open my legs if I was going to push but I told her that I couldn't and just hoped she lift my left leg for me. They wanted me to roll to my back, but I couldn't. I continued to scream. A doctor was pulled in. I can't remember the details, but I don't think he was an OB. I think he was an intern, or ER doc, or something. But he was there at the time when a baby was coming and a doctor was needed! Some yelled "Go get her family!". Ryan and Jan walked in just as Hayes was coming out. I think I pushed twice and ta-da! It was 9:02am.<br />
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In the chaos of the delivery, no one yelled out what I had. A few seconds later, Ryan told me we had a boy. <br />
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Hayes (at the time "Baby Prichard") was perfect. Ryan and I bonded with him right away. After an hour or so, Ryan and Jan went to get me some things at home, lunch, and birthday gifts for Hayes. I was left alone with Hayes in our recovery room. I vividly remember staring at him and thinking, "wow, you were just inside me. You are the one who I have felt for months". That feeling after delivery is just surreal. Hayes and I just sat there, for hours. No TV. No visitors. Just the two of us. <br />
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Ryan and his mom returned with food, Starbucks, clean clothes, and gifts. Jan stayed with us for a few hours, but had to go home to spend the night with Hudson and Hadley after our nanny left at 5p. Ryan and I spent the night watching MNF, election coverage (the presidential election was the next day), and trying to come up with a name. Naming a child has to be one of life's most stressful decisions. It's a lifelong decision for another person - talk about weight on your shoulders! Ryan did what he does best: busted out dry erase markers and starting diagraming first and middle names on the dry erase board in my room. Finally, by the next morning, Hayes Miller Prichard had his name. <br />
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Thinking back to that day makes it feel as if it were a lifetime ago. And in some ways it was. We were living in Baltimore. We only had two children at home. It was a different life from the one we're currently living. <br />
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First birthdays are always bittersweet. It feels as though it's the first point when you truly say good bye to having a baby. Teeth start to pop through. Wobbly standing gives way to wobbly walking. It's possible to stop breastfeeding as we have reached our goal. All signs of growing up. And there are days when I want nothing more for him to grow up. Days when I wish he could entertain himself long enough for me to cook dinner. Days when I wish he would walk because he's too heavy to carry. Days when I wish he would just use the potty because I can't change one.more.diaper. And then you think of the loss of your baby. The one who needs you for food. The one who used to fit into those itty bitty sleepers. The one who cries when you walk away. The one who can be calmed instantly by the warmth of your skin and the sound of your heart.<br />
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This first birthday is especially bittersweet for me as it's most likely my last. It is marking not only the loss of "babyhood" for Hayes, but for me as a mother. Reflecting back is leaving me with a mix of emotions. It's hard to put into words or how to even wrap my head around it. From the surprise of my pregnancy (and all of the emotions surrounding that), through Hayes' arrival, to the life changes that came with moving and staying home, I'm sitting here in a cloud of happiness, sadness, pride, and amazement. I never saw my life taking all of these turns, but it seems that my road to happiness is a winding one.<br />
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Happy birthday Hayeser Laser.<br />
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#passthetissues<br />
#ayearinpictures<br />
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<br />Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-28107197988844891452013-10-22T20:14:00.003-07:002013-10-22T20:14:39.116-07:00Lemonade from lemonsThis blog post has been writing itself all day. In fact, it started in the wee hours of the night. Hayes has been rather fussy and battling a fever. He and I had a series of 45 minute naps all night until 4:30a when we crashed for two hours (finally). Ryan woke me at 6:30a to say goodbye as he was headed to a conference in San Francisco (I had already been uneasy about this - a direct Tuesday morning flight from Newark to SFO was all too reminiscent of another flight that set out on that route 12 years ago). I heard him close our front door and within 5 seconds heard Hadley calling for Daddy from her bed. By the time I opened my eyes, I saw Hudson walking up the stairs into my room. Rise and shine.<br />
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We managed to get through breakfast and the rest of the morning routine pretty smoothly. I walked the kids to school and made it on time. The day is already a success.<br />
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I had plans to get coffee with a new friend in Jersey City. Her son is good friends with Hudson and we have gone out a few times for coffee (yay for new friends!). I really enjoy chatting with her and having adult conversations, even if we're somewhat distracted by wrangling our little ones. I called the pediatrician to schedule a visit for Hayes given his state overnight. The only available time was right smack in the middle of our coffee date. Looks like that would need to get rescheduled.<br />
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I get Hayes in the car to get to the doctor and realize that the last time I gave him Motrin was 3a. At 11:30a, it had worn off and I could tell his fever was spiking again. We get to the doctor and find out that his fever is 103. The doc checks his ears and, at first glance, says they looked clear. She decided to look in the left one again and realized that it was red, thus diagnosing him with an ear infection. For some reason, his first ear infection, especially before he was a year old, made me feel like somewhat of a failure. It's easy to get lax by the third child, much less vigilant of keeping their hands and toys free of germs. So, I feel responsible for not doing a better job of protecting him. I also learned that pediatricians aren't <a href="http://www.npr.org/blogs/health/2013/02/25/172588359/pediatricians-urged-to-treat-ear-infections-more-cautiously" target="_blank">automatically prescribing antibiotics for ear infections </a>so her advice was to monitor for 48 hours. That will take me right through my days of single parenting. Fantastic.<br />
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We get home and Hayes sleeps on my chest all day. Lethargic and unable to sleep comfortably in his crib, I accept that I will spend my day snuggling him. My stomach and bladder were unhappy with that setup as it meant no lunch and no bathroom trips. <br />
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I go to pick Hadley up at school for her dentist appointment. Hayes seemed much better after his Motrin, nap, and some lunch. I had a great car ride conversation with Hadley. She told me that she was learning about Beethoven in school and he was a great musician, but he had crazy grey hair and didn't sing the words to his songs. Love this girl :)<br />
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We get to the dentist and Hadley is a perfect angel. The dentist, who was gorgeous and looked to be a good 10 years younger than me, was cleaning her teeth and found a small cavity. Oh no! Once again, I failed one of my children. I felt just awful. During her surge of independence, Hadley has often been asking to brush herself without our help. We get so caught up in all of the other routines that accompany teeth brushing in both the morning and night that we relish in the fact that she has taken a responsibility away from us. Only to learn we probably shouldn't have handed this over to her so quickly. The dentist said it was so small and that she could fill it right then. The dentist and the hygienist were wonderful with Hadley, but it was my sunshine who was the star of the show. She sat there and did every thing they asked of her without even batting an eye. They kept mumbling to one another how well she was doing. At the end, the dentist looked at me and said "She is probably the best 3 year old patient I had. Not just today, not in my past, but probably in my future too." I thanked her for the kind words and said that Hadley was a really good girl. Do you know what the dentist said to me? She said "it's a sign of what a good mother you are". Wow. I needed to hear that. Especially today. Thank you.<br />
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We left the dentist to pick up Hudson from school. In place of our coffee date, my friend and I decided to get the kids together after school. It was poor planning on my part. Hayes was getting hungry and fussy, it was getting close to dinner, it was brisk outside, Hudson wasn't listening (just being silly with his friend). I ended the play date short to get the kids home and get dinner.<br />
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A few hours later, I go to pack the kids lunches and can't find Hudson's lunchbox. I immediately know where it is...still at the park we played at after school. I couldn't fathom taking all three kids back out in the dark. I thought about asking a neighbor to watch the kids, but there's no one that I'm that comfortable with (<a href="http://idroolblackandgold.blogspot.com/2013/10/sick.html" target="_blank">Baltimore, I miss you</a>). I thought about asking the friend we playing with if she would mind running out to look for the lunchbox since I knew she had help at home. In the end, I couldn't ask for help (this is <a href="http://idroolblackandgold.blogspot.com/2013/09/help-is-not-four-letter-word.html" target="_blank">a problem of mine</a>), so I strapped Hayes in the Ergo, put the other two in the stroller with a blanket and set out with a flashlight in hand. The lunchbox wasn't where we left it, but after a few rounds of walking through the park, we found the box and its contents (in different places). <br />
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Feeling a strange mix of defeat (for all the challenges presented today) and pride (for how I responded), I walked the kids home and talked to them about how I needed them to listen when we got home and get ready for bed. Maybe it was my exasperated expression I wore on my face or maybe it was our little pep talk, but amazingly, the kids listened. They got ready for bed without a hitch. The four of us were sitting on Hadley's bed and Hudson says "we should have a family snuggle". And we did.<br />
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I sat back thinking about today and realized how easy it is to get caught up in how disappointed I could have been. First ear infection, first cavity, no parenting help, failed play date, lost lunch box, cold dinner at 9p, etc. But as I thought back, so many of the positives outshone the negatives. The dentist's comments to me, Hadley's amazing behavior, Hayes having only a minor health issue, Hudson's affection, Hadley's conversations, Ryan's safe arrival in SF. After readjusting my focus I was able to look back on today and think "Wow, I'm pretty amazing and life is good."<br />
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#lemonade<br />
#adaywithoutadultconversationleadstonovelsforblogpostsJennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-30098832381462543532013-10-18T20:08:00.003-07:002013-10-18T20:08:33.957-07:00"Home" sick<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"You never really leave a place or person you love, part of them you take </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">with you, leaving a part of yourself behind.”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It's been 10 months and my heart still aches for Baltimore. It's funny because I would have never thought I would become so attached to that city. I mean, this is the town that is home to the Ravens. That alone has always made me feel a bit of a disconnect from the city - what can I say. It's in my blood. I truly think my blood runs black and gold. I despise the Ravens. And most of their fans. I know they would complain about "obnoxious Steeler fans" as well, but I've always been a courteous fan (well, except when I wear my "Where was Ray Lewis when Joey Porter was shot" shirt. Because that's just awesome). However I've had a few unprompted run ins. Like the night when I was at book club and a woman well into her 70s wanted to dish it (calling Ben a rapist) but couldn't take it (as I rebutted with questions about Ray Lewis's innocence). Or maybe it was the night that I argued the merits of Ben vs. Kyle Boller (we see how that comparison panned out) with man who then decided a physical altercation was the best way to solve our dilemma. I digress... Football is threaded in my skin, flowing through my veins. I say all of this to highlight why I didn't think the city of Baltimore would have an impact on me. I was a Pittsburgh girl at heart, just stopping in Baltimore along the way to a PhD. So you can imagine my surprise with the hole that Baltimore has left </span>in my heart<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">. 9 years, one husband, three babies, one PhD later. Charm City isn't </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">just a physical location. It's the keeper of my memories from some of </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">the most important years of my life. I find myself reminiscing many </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">nights when I run out alone to go to the store or to pick up dinner. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As I walk the streets of Jersey City I'm blindsided with the sadness </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">that I feel thinking back to our first home as a family. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We had a really special neighborhood. We lived in a little suburb within the city where all of our neighbors were friends. We all seemed to be in the same spot in life, having similar interests, and maybe even more importantly, similarly-aged children. Coming home from work each day, you knew you could pull into your garage, walk in the house to get the kids, and walk right back out into our alleyway to join everyone playing baseball (kids) or having a glass of wine (adults) while someone ordered pizza for the kids and someone else ran inside to cut up some fruit for them. Or, when a tropical storm threatens, you can have a "storm soiree" and this is what your living room would look like: </span><br />
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<i>(Looking at this picture just makes me smile. It's from August 2011 so our little ones look like babies here). </i></div>
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<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />We are starting to plan Hudson's birthday party. When asked who he wants to invite, he named his friends from Baltimore. Hadley often stops and asks if I remember "when we used to do that in Baltimore". Every night in their prayers, we pray for all of our friends and teachers in Baltimore. Part of me wants to keep talking about it so that they don't forget the memories.<br />
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In addition to these adorable kids, Ryan and I made lifelong friends. As you get older, making friends proves to be much harder than it was in your 20s. Once you have a family, it's even harder. Where do you meet people? How do you find the time to connect? Our neighborhood created a setting where those friendships could flourish organically. When your kids are out playing in limited space, you get to know people. You chat. You schedule playdates. You drink. You put the kids to bed. You drink more. And then repeat. When I was pregnant with Hayes, Ryan was working in NYC and often getting home at 8p or staying over night. On numerous occasions, my neighbors would take Hudson and Hadley, get them dinner, give them a bath, take them out for ice cream, or just take them outside to play. All just to help me. Having a support system like that is pretty incredible. <br />
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<i>Our send-off party</i></div>
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There are big things I miss. I miss my job. I miss my friends. I miss City Limits. Then there's also a lot of little joys that I miss. I miss relaxing while watching football in bed (did I mention football again?? Seriously, I have a problem). I miss making waffles with the kids on Sunday morning in our kitchen. I miss watching Ryan and Hudson from the kitchen window, playing football in the grassy area out front (aka The Cage). I miss snuggling on our couch in the glow of our Christmas tree lights. I miss our traditions. There's an empty pit in my stomach when I think about these memories. A friend told me that I need to live through all four seasons in our new home before I can start to let go and now I see why. I need to unravel the joy of these memories from the physical space. I need to recreate these moments in a new space. With new friends. And new traditions. <br />
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I know that it will continue to get easier. For all of us. The sadness will fade. But right now, 10 months later, it's still pretty raw. <br />
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#aBaltimorelovestoryJennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-3412333852151728352013-10-10T19:35:00.002-07:002013-10-10T19:36:11.317-07:00A blog identityI've been thinking about how to use this blog for a few days now. I wrote a long blog post on my iPhone that I haven't yet transferred for editing. The post really has nothing to do with parenting, which made me think of about this blog's identity. In the past, this was a way of sharing things like photos of the kids with family (which is a task now managed by Facebook) or posting recipes so I didn't forget them (thanks to Pinterest, I no longer need to do this). I also was thinking about who will be reading this. Other than my mom (Hi Mom!), I have no idea who my little blog my attract. So, I've concluded that this blog will serve to be a place for me to vent, to celebrate, to mourn, and hopefully discuss (via comments) all of the things life throws at me. Most of that will pertain to parenting, but other topics will likely come up. In other words, I've decided that I'm writing this blog for me and not for anyone else. <br />
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#timetobealittleselfish<br />
#you'vebeenwarnedJennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-34545739954581870372013-09-30T18:50:00.001-07:002013-09-30T20:56:30.734-07:00Help is not a four letter word.I have to laugh at this title. My kids' and their emerging literacy would challenge me on that one. <div><br></div><div>Hayes and I went into NYC today. We got off of the ferry when we returned to Jersey City and I saw a woman ahead of me struggling with a little girl. She picked the girl up, trying to contain her and carry the girl over her shoulder. I immediately empathized with the mother/nanny because I had been there (many times). She was walking with the girl, also pushing a stroller with infant twins, while the girl cried. When I caught up to them, the little girl was no longer crying, but she was laying on the ground refusing to walk. The woman looked exasperated and defeated. It was written all over her face, her hunched shoulders, her eyes pleading for just a shred of cooperation from the little girl. I looked at her and tried to express my empathy with a small smile. As I was walking away, I stopped, turned back, and asked, "is there anything I could do to help? Could I offer her a snack to maybe get her willing to walk?" To my surprise, she said "Yes, a snack, that would be great. Maybe that will work." So I handed her a Baby Mum Mum and watched the little girl stand up to take the cracker. Just then, one of the twins started to cry so I walked along, not wanting the woman to feel any more pressure with me standing there. (As a side note, I think that mothers tend to feel judged more often while in the presence of other mothers. This is especially true when our children aren't behaving the way we would hope). </div><div><br></div><div>While walking home I was thinking about my surprise that she accepted my offer for help. I thought about being in her shoes. If a stranger walked by and offered my child a snack, I would never think to take it (even if it was a sealed Mum Mum like I handed her). There are times when I'm offered help from someone I <i>know</i> and I don't know how to accept it. Last week, I went out for coffee and breakfast with a new friend. She didn't have her little ones with her and I had Hayes. She just had coffee while I also had breakfast. Hayes was squirming and making it really difficult for me to eat. She asked if I wanted her to hold him while I finished and my reflexive response was "no, I'm okay, thanks." After a few introspective moments on that walk home, I tried to dissect my unwillingness to have others help me (although I'm a SAHM now, my previous life as a psychologist still shines through at times!). <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Has our culture of independence fooled us into thinking that we don't need help? What is the root cause for not accepting it? Being judged for not being able to do it all? I wish I had answers.</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> I reminded myself that it takes a village to raise a child. Given the exponential impacts of additional children on our ability to parent, I just may need a continent. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">#helpisnotafourletterword</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">#feelsgoodtobeback </span></div><div><div><div><br></div></div></div>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-31064209312600064142013-09-26T10:44:00.001-07:002013-09-26T10:44:22.401-07:00Right now - 1:44ESTI'm bringing my blog back to life with my partner in crime<br />
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See my friend <a href="http://momseyeviewnyc.wordpress.com/2013/09/25/dont-forget-right-now/" target="_blank">Danielle's post regarding "Right Now"</a>.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-8298152156378076372013-09-26T10:33:00.000-07:002013-09-26T10:38:36.110-07:00A resurrection of a blogMarch 22, 2010. That was the last time I wrote an entry here. Hudson had Grandpa hair. Hadley was an immobile newborn. Hayes wasn't even a registered thought. I was still in grad school. We were living in Baltimore. Obviously it was a different world for us then. In the months (years!) that have passed, I have given many thoughts to this blog. I often think of something and go "Wow, I have a lot to say about that and should write a blog post" then life happens and that thought gets downgraded to a Facebook status or remains trapped in my overactive frontal lobes. I (over)think about creating new blog posts and tell myself that I'm already drowning in everyday life and that writing these posts would just add another item on my infinite to-do list. Well, today, September 26th 2013, I'm going to break that cycle and resurrect I Drool Black and Gold. I hope with today's technology (did I even have an iPhone in 2010?!?) that I will be able to compose posts on the fly (I'm looking at you iPad) and not have to schedule time at my desktop with pictures that I had to download off of my camera (with a wire!!). (#thatsalotofparenthesisinonesentence #wedidnothavehashtagsin2010)<br />
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Looking forward to becoming reacquainted.<br />
#tobecontinued Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-41016080099470764882010-03-22T13:08:00.001-07:002010-03-22T13:25:32.770-07:00Developmental updatesI'm getting ready to write a post about our trip to San Fran, but I'm waiting for the 720 pictures to download (yes, we were only gone for one week). So I thought I'd take a minute to update on the kids' development. This is my way of tracking the things they're doing since I no longer have a baby book for Hudson. So I guess this post is more for me than you :)<br /><br />HUDSON:<br />-This kid's memory blows our minds! He knows his ABCs now and loves to sing them over and over and over. He also randomly broke out in a store last week with Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. His version is pretty cute "twinkle, twinkle, star. How wonder what are. Up above sky high. Like diamond in sky." We definitely have to get this on film.<br /><br />- He likes to tell you everyone's name. If you ask him his name, he says "Name, Hudson James Prichard" and then continues with "Name, Hadley Grace Prichard. Name, Mommy Prichard. Name, Daddy Prichard." He had a hard time saying his nanny's last name (Bissally) so when you ask him Joyce's name he says "Name, Joycey Bussy, ahahahah!" (He covers his mouth and laughs since he knows he's not saying it correctly.). Lately he's been saying "Name, Joycey Bussy. Name, Joycey SALLY!"<br /><br />-He LOVES jigsaw puzzles and is a master at them.<br /><br />-He's been into a few dinosaur books. His transportation books are still his favorites and he loves to tell you which is the "single propeller passenger airplane" and which is the "microlite". Some other favorites from those books are the "4 wheel drive", "combine harvester", and "airport fuel tanker".<br /><br />-Joyce once told him that a tanker truck outside of our house was going to pick up gas, so every tanker, bus, or airplane he sees, he tells you "Tanker truck/bus/airplane pick up gas".<br /><br />-When he can't get someone's attention, he resorts to calling them by their names. So far, he's called for "Ryan" (and he does that often), "Reuben" (aka Pop Pop), and "Jack" (aka Pappy).<br /><br />-He continues to be lovey and affectionate - always giving be hugs and kisses :)<br /><br />HADLEY:<br />-She is just the happiest baby ever! As soon as she wakes up, she glows with the biggest smiles you can imagine (made all the cuter with her huge chubby cheeks).<br /><br />-She cuddles next to me all night and with sleep the entire night. We haven't made the transition to the crib yet, but I'm enjoying all of the snuggles!<br /><br />-She recently started to giggle out loud. Her biggest bout of giggles came while she was looking at Mom Mom when we were riding to our hotel from the airport in San Francisco.<br /><br />-She has learned how to blow bubbles. This may be a side effect from her new drool machine status. She also sucks on her hands so we may have some impending teeth (though nothing is visible yet).<br /><br />-She's a girl who knows what she wants! Hudson never turned away a chance to nurse, but if I try to force it on Hadley (like when we're flying and I'm trying to make sure her ears pop), she throws a bit of a fit.<br /><br />-She gasps for air and acts as though she can't breathe when you wipe her face or put her shirt on. And then come the tears. Like I said, she knows what she does (and doesn't!) want!<br /><br />Okay, off to go through these pictures. SF post coming shortly.....Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-20029143390780664442010-02-16T09:58:00.000-08:002010-03-22T13:26:20.546-07:00Full of gummy smiles!Hadley Grace has been full of smiles lately. She seems to have kicked the cold and is back to her happy self. She LOVES to be on her changing table and just cracks up at her name on the wall. Here are some of the pics:<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cpcjsAByOMYYXgs3CjAbHQtSgY9Zpnp3JK516ECGPWF8Ac54q_GUypGtHjHi17didWM-5POtkmWHsjN5Bm-f14l3v3blSJEQpjvNVv7wgxY8B16W5fL43f7wWODM68XwlFT_8djtwAc/s1600-h/DSC_0038.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cpcjsAByOMYYXgs3CjAbHQtSgY9Zpnp3JK516ECGPWF8Ac54q_GUypGtHjHi17didWM-5POtkmWHsjN5Bm-f14l3v3blSJEQpjvNVv7wgxY8B16W5fL43f7wWODM68XwlFT_8djtwAc/s400/DSC_0038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438903350088615522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxY_VWJcIz862iHmoli1txSh82TcdtabpcUasIMkZpIcWkZDPCjPG8n5egw_dNbcgS5vdlIKv7z5ITW_deyA9oATFaKSXr-EHVgeayXyzy9VuliHpJX-SvuLC4ONg0lP1QB1A2ot7dg-k/s1600-h/DSC_0035.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxY_VWJcIz862iHmoli1txSh82TcdtabpcUasIMkZpIcWkZDPCjPG8n5egw_dNbcgS5vdlIKv7z5ITW_deyA9oATFaKSXr-EHVgeayXyzy9VuliHpJX-SvuLC4ONg0lP1QB1A2ot7dg-k/s400/DSC_0035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438903228696338066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1Pfq-b10oF6zj8exK4wZ8ZhQDr1hmwC96HkDFzy-F1WH6XLx1T1BltIanrcq5h20tX_onepcxO-HlBAiwszHwYavPY4Bq2KQqojrN5g31jrHfrHLJ5wUfxuPCeGK8Po7irPqKbdgM8k/s1600-h/DSC_0034.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1Pfq-b10oF6zj8exK4wZ8ZhQDr1hmwC96HkDFzy-F1WH6XLx1T1BltIanrcq5h20tX_onepcxO-HlBAiwszHwYavPY4Bq2KQqojrN5g31jrHfrHLJ5wUfxuPCeGK8Po7irPqKbdgM8k/s400/DSC_0034.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438903083225130818" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkXno8FsL4iNyKOP1DLkJkuky7F6GeXkWVt5maL1K9Bnt8OENWOjwjkx6A0P5RGP4YbEsWP7oR1e0yjtwrIesWDSgCkZPN29nNrKL465zeVwznnQegkUJ3HXu6XxE-95_jHeMaqTI1Cw/s1600-h/DSC_0032.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkXno8FsL4iNyKOP1DLkJkuky7F6GeXkWVt5maL1K9Bnt8OENWOjwjkx6A0P5RGP4YbEsWP7oR1e0yjtwrIesWDSgCkZPN29nNrKL465zeVwznnQegkUJ3HXu6XxE-95_jHeMaqTI1Cw/s400/DSC_0032.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438902912691839682" border="0" /></a>And all of those smiles are because she was looking up at this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOc-GduIuR4AHiGs43r8lSmDlSoxF6NzwnXiVTNzmY9DRdUwUSfNqS9-4mxxp_hj8j244pNKVdjZXtrNSXJ5TdZd9jUL4MRH0pgSHMLfLYzKdwdkwHOzHh2ybt7_uC0c6dccZReUebBM/s1600-h/DSC_0054-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOc-GduIuR4AHiGs43r8lSmDlSoxF6NzwnXiVTNzmY9DRdUwUSfNqS9-4mxxp_hj8j244pNKVdjZXtrNSXJ5TdZd9jUL4MRH0pgSHMLfLYzKdwdkwHOzHh2ybt7_uC0c6dccZReUebBM/s400/DSC_0054-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438904558880014866" border="0" /></a>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-32649167072730568812010-02-10T08:40:00.000-08:002010-03-22T13:26:41.747-07:00Someone pinch me!!I never thought this day would come. Ever. I fully anticipated that I would go off to CMU with Hudson and need to rock my 18-year old son to sleep. But now I have hope. For two straight days he has allowed me to rock him for a few minutes then put him into his crib awake and let me walk out of his room. With no tears (for either of us). For both his nap and at bedtime. It's a sleeping miracle!! It has been really cute. I think he's internalizing his big brother status. I tell him how proud I am of him for going to bed on his own and he tells me "Hudson pillow. Hug Birdie. Hadley Grace cry." which translates to "Hudson lays on his pillow, hugging his Big Bird because Mommy has to leave to get Hadley Grace who is crying".<br /><br />We're so proud of you Hudson James!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOtqIShyIoGtKbs0I4zzVmgeNUO597FZ4_qKBPdtPFiKYH0ki1uMEsca5blBIcw4tRCwf7N69D0h1CsW3xQnstbQZbAD7FSeKt79Ek1fXJJWr_Aut5BpkDkn6GwIl6oQSeMvZDA-wYa4/s1600-h/DSC_0012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOtqIShyIoGtKbs0I4zzVmgeNUO597FZ4_qKBPdtPFiKYH0ki1uMEsca5blBIcw4tRCwf7N69D0h1CsW3xQnstbQZbAD7FSeKt79Ek1fXJJWr_Aut5BpkDkn6GwIl6oQSeMvZDA-wYa4/s400/DSC_0012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436666453213041954" border="0" /></a>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-84147237083404615162010-01-27T13:22:00.000-08:002010-02-05T12:10:58.464-08:00You know you're a mom when....I've been thinking about this post for a few days since it seems I have so many "mom tags" these days. And I laugh when I think of how different my life was 2.5 years ago. I'm sure there are many lists like this out there, but these are my mom tags. Please feel free to add yours in the comment section.<br /><br />You know you're a mom when...<br /><br />...you could be on the show "What not to wear". Just today I ran errands in the following attire: non-maternity grey sweatpants that were clearly too tight, and therefore also wore some VPLs, Uggs pulled up haphazardly over the sweats, a nursing tank, a hoodie that was too large, a red pea coat, severely overgrown eyebrows, dark circles under my eyes, and greasy hair. I kept looking for Stacey and Clinton to be filming secret footage.<br /><br />...you have a children's show theme song stuck in your head at any given moment. For me, it's usually "It's signing time with Alex and Leah..."<br /><br />...you know more about the features of your stroller than you do about the features of your car.<br /><br />...Friday and Saturday nights are no different than a Tuesday night.<br /><br />...you're more familiar with the local preschools and story times than you are with the local bars and restaurants.<br /><br />...you don't think twice about wiping boogers off of your child's face with your bare finger.<br /><br />...you are personally responsible for keeping the snack food industry in business.<br /><br />...your car is littered with random toys and snack foods.<br /><br />...you have NO idea what the hottest songs on the radio are.<br /><br />...you and your husband have full conversations with spelled-out words. "Hey, I'm going to take a b-a-t-h. Can you watch the kids?" "Sure. Should I give him m-i-l-k or j-u-i-c-e while you're up there?"<br /><br />...you don't remember the last time you slept without a little foot or hand kicking or hitting you all night long.<br /><br />...you're a master stain remover.<br /><br />...you learn that Mr. Clean Magic Erasers do more than just clean your bathroom. They also remove crayon from anything.<br /><br />...your house looks like FAO Schwartz.<br /><br />...you know every creak the floor and door of your child's room make and are an expert at avoiding them.<br /><br />...you don't bat an eye when you find a matchbox car or stray cheerios in your purse.<br /><br />and lastly...<br /><br />...you don't care how cliched this phrase is because it captures your feelings perfectly: You truly know your a mom when you see your heart outside of your body.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-32178233081582099592010-01-14T12:44:00.000-08:002010-03-22T13:27:01.236-07:00She's growingMuch to my dismay, despite my orders for her to stay little, our baby is growing! At a rapid pace!<br />Here are her numbers:<br />Birth: 6 lbs, 3 oz<br />Next day before release (24 hours old): 6 lbs, 2 oz<br />First doctor's appt at 4 days old: 5 lbs, 15 oz<br />Second doctors appt at 13 days old: 6 lbs, 11 oz<br />And her numbers from her one month check-up?<br /><br />8 lbs, 6 oz!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDCq1QANzpCvHYXgR9FvelkAtTb46qmJaRI9PUHRDALHJlvLQcCyp0YBDYxvHpRvpfXkkBtdc-71URjuYvqPun0qz-bqBTbWFnQlDDXcyk6tF3QjbvEs841T5hckrnZm7eHRY5NUyPXI/s1600-h/DSC_0046.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDCq1QANzpCvHYXgR9FvelkAtTb46qmJaRI9PUHRDALHJlvLQcCyp0YBDYxvHpRvpfXkkBtdc-71URjuYvqPun0qz-bqBTbWFnQlDDXcyk6tF3QjbvEs841T5hckrnZm7eHRY5NUyPXI/s400/DSC_0046.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428154254611386610" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">90 minutes after birth </span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcatfbVx2McFEDbqwV4F4CbHTFicC_u8FzWwNTMrmafZWeTjWHeS_Vceibw2e4e4ey5_XFUvIomF1gWTxfqiyZlECMzf9If-n8_avOH4i4wS7iMBJmtWkDkR5rcna9G3YkY7V9TW0irXE/s1600-h/DSC_0220.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcatfbVx2McFEDbqwV4F4CbHTFicC_u8FzWwNTMrmafZWeTjWHeS_Vceibw2e4e4ey5_XFUvIomF1gWTxfqiyZlECMzf9If-n8_avOH4i4wS7iMBJmtWkDkR5rcna9G3YkY7V9TW0irXE/s400/DSC_0220.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428154094283277282" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">1 month, 3 days old before the doctor's appt</span><br /></div></div>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-62116488900838107122010-01-11T13:13:00.000-08:002010-01-11T13:19:49.460-08:00Hadley's photo shootWe had a photo shoot with Meghan Boyer when Hadley was just 11 days old. The pictures are fantastic! Here are some of my favorites:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMDJK46rVtZn8d4bccL_Z96ZwlpSzZicg0c6_sCGhJZz4fyJM_rUThyMXrueMCglbMsC12X5SL4-0C-iYEd2I2hJp7WaD9s0mdrAUblOSipQSxkQe4SMqncBpbKkTu31fxjyuxsS4Av4/s1600-h/35.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMDJK46rVtZn8d4bccL_Z96ZwlpSzZicg0c6_sCGhJZz4fyJM_rUThyMXrueMCglbMsC12X5SL4-0C-iYEd2I2hJp7WaD9s0mdrAUblOSipQSxkQe4SMqncBpbKkTu31fxjyuxsS4Av4/s400/35.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425594568826634818" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbWFKn_yorA8drRGrAO9csXYPvex-668TPrdJX1k3JKpCdsHAG2Qh6jd_TGpZraBcp9kXC3qCisVAbh_8HXogYMhk_O87W72ukoqRL5Clpfv4NeJUF9mkFVbQJzpYfvpy2khNFSDZecAk/s1600-h/28-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbWFKn_yorA8drRGrAO9csXYPvex-668TPrdJX1k3JKpCdsHAG2Qh6jd_TGpZraBcp9kXC3qCisVAbh_8HXogYMhk_O87W72ukoqRL5Clpfv4NeJUF9mkFVbQJzpYfvpy2khNFSDZecAk/s400/28-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425594450641555138" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFS9vuLXqTA95CpTqpEIrEXmSxqFlu1mClIsQWyDlDItxYPhcou8SUTn9vH-s8DqVhqvUYWUiJDcoF7-fWRoJNlm_kFdiIaiV3-vHIH1iLFOqarTyuPIh6A5hJiPDANqHxP-Bg5oiNADI/s1600-h/24-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFS9vuLXqTA95CpTqpEIrEXmSxqFlu1mClIsQWyDlDItxYPhcou8SUTn9vH-s8DqVhqvUYWUiJDcoF7-fWRoJNlm_kFdiIaiV3-vHIH1iLFOqarTyuPIh6A5hJiPDANqHxP-Bg5oiNADI/s400/24-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425594378405060354" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYpuu-GciYFWLKXDiueJjpjzQgCQ2KUcOlgENRzt8OOBPRki8A8KwcgItb6oNE56_Nb3v8_0g9ZKQynogbCSyVU2Q9KjoLIm-nxfG4r0z2ZEG9cXY4CEnLtex4JXJdI5Mzeoksq2QQyo/s1600-h/19-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYpuu-GciYFWLKXDiueJjpjzQgCQ2KUcOlgENRzt8OOBPRki8A8KwcgItb6oNE56_Nb3v8_0g9ZKQynogbCSyVU2Q9KjoLIm-nxfG4r0z2ZEG9cXY4CEnLtex4JXJdI5Mzeoksq2QQyo/s400/19-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425594172118553778" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivh5-NhUJ5boqhfThUez_wQl4tSSo_EKpFCx8SfIK30LxtdX1yOIQEH0jTtQ_Uxu_plaG11e5XfV0UkXHTt9KfsKqBYyvwQ6G5FqLR-pYClEIO-VLPBDGfWBgZOzmeyIDM_EmihaPTsw/s1600-h/40.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivh5-NhUJ5boqhfThUez_wQl4tSSo_EKpFCx8SfIK30LxtdX1yOIQEH0jTtQ_Uxu_plaG11e5XfV0UkXHTt9KfsKqBYyvwQ6G5FqLR-pYClEIO-VLPBDGfWBgZOzmeyIDM_EmihaPTsw/s400/40.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425594678738104002" border="0" /></a>Here's the link to the <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/jennprich/HadleyNewbornPhotoSessionWatermarked#">entire album</a>.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-65156145569954050992010-01-11T12:37:00.000-08:002010-03-22T13:27:22.384-07:00Our Christmas in reviewI know this is a bit late, but better late than never, right??<br /><br />We had a WONDERFUL Christmas. We were lucky enough to have both families travel to us. Ryan's parents, my parents, our 3 brothers were all here to celebrate the holiday. On Christmas Eve, we had a nice dinner, complete with a fight over the holiday nut (for those of you not familiar with this tradition, we hide a nut in the dessert (this year we had a banana pudding) and the person to get the nut is supposed to have a year of good luck. Ryan's competitive nature takes over and this becomes a bit of a blood bath. Rules have been created to keep people in check. Much to Ryan's chagrin, I got the nut (again)!) :)<br /><br />After the nut fiasco, I asked Hudson if he wanted to leave Santa milk and cookies. We went to get milk and Hudson protested. Instead he wanted to leave Santa cookies and coffee creamer. Sorry about that Santa!<br /><br />Christmas morning was so fun! Our house was an explosion of gifts since everyone was visiting. Hudson took the first gift, opened it slowly, then wanted to play with it right away. It took a good 15 minutes to get through one gift! He slowly got through all of them (and there were a ton!). He really enjoyed playing with everything...especially the tool bench :)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglP78G7HVhVVSNqj3qZEgHKnEBVKL-mjn44NYXHyrQbwHHopZP_YYe1v0B6zcxJbEDnlF5iyxT-fLDnU79CWbM1n6QzZj75A3uE8EzjwHPu4XC-pYewrDPlhEpSXLm0ovEHdfYDiCLfBk/s1600-h/DSC_0134.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglP78G7HVhVVSNqj3qZEgHKnEBVKL-mjn44NYXHyrQbwHHopZP_YYe1v0B6zcxJbEDnlF5iyxT-fLDnU79CWbM1n6QzZj75A3uE8EzjwHPu4XC-pYewrDPlhEpSXLm0ovEHdfYDiCLfBk/s400/DSC_0134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425589142257118386" border="0" /></a><br />Sadly, we didn't make it to church. I really wanted to take both kids, but it has gotten exponentially harder to do so.<br /><br />Here are some of my favorite pics from the day.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThBITqu6x0ZXEljYbc3_-s8oYkrqlF7Eb_NP06KFYZjcpzxWBYP39keCnTkg70OakAt4ETDSBrt2SkFQk5uU9H8q9UM6MZjucONQdz0uMQI4y3joTZRlYHoMSxvydJEFv2PVd4pCMOiA/s1600-h/DSC_0025-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThBITqu6x0ZXEljYbc3_-s8oYkrqlF7Eb_NP06KFYZjcpzxWBYP39keCnTkg70OakAt4ETDSBrt2SkFQk5uU9H8q9UM6MZjucONQdz0uMQI4y3joTZRlYHoMSxvydJEFv2PVd4pCMOiA/s400/DSC_0025-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425585584270086946" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">It's still too early for Hadley - she's yawning. Even all of the gifts couldn't take Hudson away from his sister!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieng8FTPRZdemqKPIHKgHrG28-tgYGxem5KGv89kCWQFeJ578M67j2FWGKTQnck2zkzC1XjREZYJx6Q28QdcXqL7djFRqLMxHRApuE2n-jirbp19rGfM_iyhqmnjhEJLyivyaV3IMbsU0/s1600-h/DSC_0035-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieng8FTPRZdemqKPIHKgHrG28-tgYGxem5KGv89kCWQFeJ578M67j2FWGKTQnck2zkzC1XjREZYJx6Q28QdcXqL7djFRqLMxHRApuE2n-jirbp19rGfM_iyhqmnjhEJLyivyaV3IMbsU0/s400/DSC_0035-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425585774778762482" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Hudson in his new recliner<br /></span></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbd8_f2irn4QAL3kSi629IjMgXqtQZ2CvyOOC0xum-U3xNLs03lpk8wAImgibXx4mORKGeLEwHmyeggGHN6YZqJvhwLMcdRXJ8SfmZVcTzJe5t8On-plzwzJTbJ5rLaJHsQp8oTx2cGqg/s1600-h/DSC_0071-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbd8_f2irn4QAL3kSi629IjMgXqtQZ2CvyOOC0xum-U3xNLs03lpk8wAImgibXx4mORKGeLEwHmyeggGHN6YZqJvhwLMcdRXJ8SfmZVcTzJe5t8On-plzwzJTbJ5rLaJHsQp8oTx2cGqg/s400/DSC_0071-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425585236062081010" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Hadley in her Christmas dress</span><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjVAaRP7INnouUNFUNSI5GQuT9tbS69bJvh-MiYOuX_-lUub739TIiTjVjoP33JDPwvNfBU4-RKIzoemHncOnd28-2Cn8USX8ntPROB-JnycaVLcKtf97pS6jinQjXhy7E8_Yjz457fs0/s1600-h/DSC_0098-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjVAaRP7INnouUNFUNSI5GQuT9tbS69bJvh-MiYOuX_-lUub739TIiTjVjoP33JDPwvNfBU4-RKIzoemHncOnd28-2Cn8USX8ntPROB-JnycaVLcKtf97pS6jinQjXhy7E8_Yjz457fs0/s400/DSC_0098-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425585029359392098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Me and my angels</span><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvb6wyuc7hyTbrlWsT_Zxs5SYD0fxmUhtndleNgvMzcu1NITWHyWWiqfc4LbpFkimK2y6uEMTvkQ0FY1t-XvXm3nlM-dyO2rzVckXlFTzdrrUEry0bwqx2Kn3W_XnPVI2OW4dTmqvnTQ/s1600-h/DSC_0113-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvb6wyuc7hyTbrlWsT_Zxs5SYD0fxmUhtndleNgvMzcu1NITWHyWWiqfc4LbpFkimK2y6uEMTvkQ0FY1t-XvXm3nlM-dyO2rzVckXlFTzdrrUEry0bwqx2Kn3W_XnPVI2OW4dTmqvnTQ/s400/DSC_0113-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425584782662830130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Still hugging Hadley! I hope this lasts when they are teenagers!<br /><br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXkpEBV95LPzvCT3axrnd-1tRWPOzKhxmUlB1SeIeqHnppb1AFGVvtJc5XyRSXQor4Z9WMY8tArJ5QanUZH7U8RpGHmUbkQMU7OHxlj_YMYxwsFCq1GoVMaiWJY05D8IeSai15eDK1Kg/s1600-h/DSC_0122-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXkpEBV95LPzvCT3axrnd-1tRWPOzKhxmUlB1SeIeqHnppb1AFGVvtJc5XyRSXQor4Z9WMY8tArJ5QanUZH7U8RpGHmUbkQMU7OHxlj_YMYxwsFCq1GoVMaiWJY05D8IeSai15eDK1Kg/s400/DSC_0122-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425584593812594082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Christmas was so tiring that Hudson fell asleep while brushing his teeth</span><br /></div>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-45537417165522273092010-01-06T10:56:00.000-08:002010-03-22T13:27:45.585-07:00Time for an update!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpYSzQPFCXqhA9QNi7pw5ubxrVKzMI37s55-0S6vTJvQ-BQhsuHGEd_DiTA7yFVhp_GeWFxgDy5IJ6kiko0iyoqq08kMJy_yqDOlEjzCPKXQ1iUfZA7VRpCaLo4gISjdWXjWNsb0rouE/s1600-h/DSC_0011-3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpYSzQPFCXqhA9QNi7pw5ubxrVKzMI37s55-0S6vTJvQ-BQhsuHGEd_DiTA7yFVhp_GeWFxgDy5IJ6kiko0iyoqq08kMJy_yqDOlEjzCPKXQ1iUfZA7VRpCaLo4gISjdWXjWNsb0rouE/s400/DSC_0011-3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425579907552731778" border="0" /></a><br />I really should be working on my dissertation right now, but due to a becoming a Mac user and not having my technical adviser (aka Ryan) available, I'm stuck on something right. So I thought I'd take the time to post an update.<br /><br />Everything is going great! I can NOT believe that Hadley is one month old!! It really makes me so sad. I didn't get this emotional with Hudson as he aged because I always knew that I would some day have another little baby to hold. But now that we have a little boy and a little girl, Hadley could be the last baby of my own that I cradle and comfort. So it breaks my heart to see that her newborn clothing is actually starting to fit and that her preemie clothes are now too small.<br /><br />Hudson is totally and utterly smitten with Hadley. He hasn't shown any signs of jealousy. He is constantly kissing her, sometimes too much as he routinely wakes her up because he's kissing and hugging her. He always wants to hold her. He pets her and says "soft". When he kisses her, he says "Mmmmm good!". He calls her "Hadley Grace" all of the time which is adorable. He likes to point to certain features on her (like her ears and fingers) and say "teeny". He has been a wonderful big brother.<br /><br />Hadley is still sleeping her days (and nights!) away. She probably sleeps for 22 hours each day. At night, she has pretty much been sleeping in our bed since the day she came home. The other night we broke new ground and she slept in her cosleeper bassinet from 11p-1a, ate, and then went back to sleep in there until 4a. At 4, I was too tired and just nursed her in bed. During the day, however, she prefers to be held over her swing or bouncer chair. This should make for an interesting task - completing my dissertation with a baby in one arm! Sometimes I can position her in the boppy, all cuddled up, and she'll stay asleep which buys me some time. Otherwise, I can wear her on my chest in the Moby wrap and she's content. See?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixTo1Wt0Ej7Cb6-rIfPEgMv9RUi0yG6k1L0MSSymW07efi1aeEM81DGNmRl4J9U9Ec61beMz8SaIshkIEcLPtgbz-gltxXrW9yQAupk7V0p7NsA-m4K0PbWX_OWbhoPre09G6UJSi1QQk/s1600-h/DSC_0131.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixTo1Wt0Ej7Cb6-rIfPEgMv9RUi0yG6k1L0MSSymW07efi1aeEM81DGNmRl4J9U9Ec61beMz8SaIshkIEcLPtgbz-gltxXrW9yQAupk7V0p7NsA-m4K0PbWX_OWbhoPre09G6UJSi1QQk/s400/DSC_0131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425581258969339682" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In addition to his big brother role, Hudson has lots of other cute things he's doing right now. He's been saying "Waaaas 'at?" (read: What's that?) with the cutest little intonations. He's started to play independently (which has been a life saver). His favorite toys are his trains, puzzles, cars, toolbench, and art easel. He loves the Wiggles and recently revived his interest in Signing Times. His favorite thing to tell you is about everyone that is "gone" (i.e. not home or visiting). Just about every morning he wakes up and says "Grami gone, Pappy gone, Mom Mom gone, Pop Pop gone, Joey gone, Bobby gone, Kevin gone". He literally goes through the entire list. And as soon as Daddy goes to work, he's "gone" too!<br /><br />As for me, I'm adapting to the new role as a mom of two. Some of the emotions I had before have faded. For example, I was so sad to think about not having individual time with Hudson, but now I see how happy he is with Hadley and don't bat an eye at that. He's also become so attached to Daddy since they have more time together. Hudson hasn't shown interest in nursing (I was afraid he might regress). However, some of the guilt I had before has carried over. I still don't feel as connected with Hadley. I feel like she comes in 2nd alot of times since Hudson might need immediate attention. I don't feel the same anxiety about her every cry as I did with Hudson. I don't have that same heart-wrenching feeling that she needs me all of the time and I would actually be willing to leave her for a little while if I had to (whereas with Hudson, I didn't leave him overnight until he was 22 months old!). Maybe it's just that I have experience now, so I'm not as worried. I don't feel like I engage her as much as I did with Hudson. I was always talking to him, making faces while changing his diaper, etc. With Hadley, I feel like I'm always preoccupied and just happen to have her in my arms. I am constantly thinking that she must sense these things and know how I'm feeling. Then I worry that she'll interpret it as me not loving her as much as her brother. I know that I'm overthinking this, but that's just what I do!<br /><br />Okay, enough with the sadness! Here are some happy pictures to enjoy :)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnr-2DSJZ2jTzYckIrMARfOmIn1X6qbMMPjAzqGVDR79A8-5MLbUPqo0xChN-aJtlX7kuUXno4y2hw-gePKX4KILbUL3VwUTNlXgnasbXBmTIJUTCyzrD1QBeLkfwVgI_S6ADhq1A9XI/s1600-h/DSC_0040-2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnr-2DSJZ2jTzYckIrMARfOmIn1X6qbMMPjAzqGVDR79A8-5MLbUPqo0xChN-aJtlX7kuUXno4y2hw-gePKX4KILbUL3VwUTNlXgnasbXBmTIJUTCyzrD1QBeLkfwVgI_S6ADhq1A9XI/s400/DSC_0040-2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425579461587106338" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCffrezI6pums5FFamGxcuHFMh2n24fBHS0HSnR7aOcSqRdfdjbC1EhrlVkhmmhGYE9PBlBrAWIdcQaJaJFGehaiTH2BmbUFUXYxZF4eeYft8pluBIU6Gm11168n80AwYnhzVGtGTzrk/s1600-h/DSC_0147.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCffrezI6pums5FFamGxcuHFMh2n24fBHS0HSnR7aOcSqRdfdjbC1EhrlVkhmmhGYE9PBlBrAWIdcQaJaJFGehaiTH2BmbUFUXYxZF4eeYft8pluBIU6Gm11168n80AwYnhzVGtGTzrk/s400/DSC_0147.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425580112516162994" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFLvGfJNPI4hUwnhq1zdg_S89KQ_NLsvyNv3QaWCmUSniFwGBZT8N6eIhs1HYBpIsEypoJxU4zTlf4SI0T_v6mvAzRncW77Dh4NEd4nn45KbUBDe68T5OKR8E6FSDgYKiNzt6kiQI_4M/s1600-h/DSC_0032-2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFLvGfJNPI4hUwnhq1zdg_S89KQ_NLsvyNv3QaWCmUSniFwGBZT8N6eIhs1HYBpIsEypoJxU4zTlf4SI0T_v6mvAzRncW77Dh4NEd4nn45KbUBDe68T5OKR8E6FSDgYKiNzt6kiQI_4M/s400/DSC_0032-2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425579608982646146" border="0" /></a>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1520954126576014601.post-16543161264701936472009-12-22T11:48:00.000-08:002009-12-22T12:07:17.066-08:00Let it snow!!!<div style="text-align: center;">I love the snow. Not necessarily in the "bundle-up-and-play-in-it" way, but the "sit-inside-and drink-cocoa" kind of way. I was so lucky to have that opportunity on Saturday when Blizzard 2009 hit Baltimore. We woke up to a Winter Wonderland! Hudson's first reaction? "Mess. Grami did it." We still don't know why he's blaming the snow on my mom, but he says it every time he looks outside. I had plans to bake cookies on Saturday, so the weather was perfect for that! Here are a few pics:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOuawMtCYhM0SN14QE4GFPbj4GXXN26mKChMi3WKhD82YFQRuIU6I481xHeNstnlPIMTJC8H4jT3GyZzchrjorJATX1EVvZIaWTAyYXZhIyIIRwKi5wB1RTV1rqnE1Ellu-rV_CtMymg/s1600-h/DSC_0044.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOuawMtCYhM0SN14QE4GFPbj4GXXN26mKChMi3WKhD82YFQRuIU6I481xHeNstnlPIMTJC8H4jT3GyZzchrjorJATX1EVvZIaWTAyYXZhIyIIRwKi5wB1RTV1rqnE1Ellu-rV_CtMymg/s400/DSC_0044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418151622138657282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The view in our alleyway</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nFurySQoK-AhgZR2Z2OftZvpqQ_5aZ3W-kYAaY6I1ZhkmdaMofkIGSoMHJRyM5utc8OZpIwm8luiDZ3vRsYeMHIvUQpreV0p6ABFyGPRMxfLJOcJ8NBat2NQx2IHZxGRtU1SrfHepI8/s1600-h/DSC_0060.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nFurySQoK-AhgZR2Z2OftZvpqQ_5aZ3W-kYAaY6I1ZhkmdaMofkIGSoMHJRyM5utc8OZpIwm8luiDZ3vRsYeMHIvUQpreV0p6ABFyGPRMxfLJOcJ8NBat2NQx2IHZxGRtU1SrfHepI8/s400/DSC_0060.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418151787060972354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Saturday night clean up crews driving down our street<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOHZgB79D3ZC1grrzGAFGrkDj86ocRJyIEiCfB7CgbqCFKV7rY7PVJDRO0yDEFSVMR-or4GdG0rm2_kFZjSgjaIN8cYgLL6Z8amSXjJxQ3jJCxlctzH7U_koFrhPvIupIR77OUlt1N8jQ/s1600-h/DSC_0030.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOHZgB79D3ZC1grrzGAFGrkDj86ocRJyIEiCfB7CgbqCFKV7rY7PVJDRO0yDEFSVMR-or4GdG0rm2_kFZjSgjaIN8cYgLL6Z8amSXjJxQ3jJCxlctzH7U_koFrhPvIupIR77OUlt1N8jQ/s400/DSC_0030.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418150979791761810" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Hudson, not sure what to think</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1eI2HTj5VzsZen_swv_VdSKe1cGMP9YEFG6m9QfOsG0EwtPfFRyuCwW_s6am37xKKG703MP7Gw9rQ4fsqcjR2yYT7PZJjzmmxK4VCjcj_u_-kYvjjpCEmcSGEORaJfCh4sPYQlimE2p4/s1600-h/DSC_0035.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1eI2HTj5VzsZen_swv_VdSKe1cGMP9YEFG6m9QfOsG0EwtPfFRyuCwW_s6am37xKKG703MP7Gw9rQ4fsqcjR2yYT7PZJjzmmxK4VCjcj_u_-kYvjjpCEmcSGEORaJfCh4sPYQlimE2p4/s400/DSC_0035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418151115053735698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Catching snowflakes</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZWS93OrBfRFoj4d31v8g3GdYOnvDZAzX2RAQaQDrpBQUSW66rqPam_1lvBHzHFIfpC_ssVFe_Mory7P81gD5yB_gTAW8BX9O9zruSkB1S2us7m1Ak6cAqgxtGbS4rPJ986i-hqMoQVE/s1600-h/DSC_0037.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZWS93OrBfRFoj4d31v8g3GdYOnvDZAzX2RAQaQDrpBQUSW66rqPam_1lvBHzHFIfpC_ssVFe_Mory7P81gD5yB_gTAW8BX9O9zruSkB1S2us7m1Ak6cAqgxtGbS4rPJ986i-hqMoQVE/s400/DSC_0037.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418151451826208578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Post snow runny nose, rosy cheeks and hot cocoa residue</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhngTv4aAj03ILtNuFMMthqe9DvzeiirVuKueQfaZdYYIXVDGhvPr_ogIzv0aayngFSi45EdhAueKjYMmVzpfVqcLRV7ZOiivVasBA-2MrRPGocDZAsywyeZyqr8lkmRaPmey1KHKqJTmY/s1600-h/DSC_0036.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhngTv4aAj03ILtNuFMMthqe9DvzeiirVuKueQfaZdYYIXVDGhvPr_ogIzv0aayngFSi45EdhAueKjYMmVzpfVqcLRV7ZOiivVasBA-2MrRPGocDZAsywyeZyqr8lkmRaPmey1KHKqJTmY/s400/DSC_0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418154400972527170" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Hadley stayed all bundled up inside with Mommy</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDbR7vYn7jYCp6ENITFnBgrxKamB85WAkL7uT8pKYEATHkrwtrWNEr6IWuDLghKkLAqDwv10ZMMg2E0riS7sx0arC87RUsJQWsSwnziVjWGD1ISOIBNJ5PMmwSYLXkQw1IMUG24dLhHg/s1600-h/DSC_0078.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDbR7vYn7jYCp6ENITFnBgrxKamB85WAkL7uT8pKYEATHkrwtrWNEr6IWuDLghKkLAqDwv10ZMMg2E0riS7sx0arC87RUsJQWsSwnziVjWGD1ISOIBNJ5PMmwSYLXkQw1IMUG24dLhHg/s400/DSC_0078.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418152791065701554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Hudson wanted to go inside, but that didn't stop Daddy from building a snowman alone</span><br /></div>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04494263806363047697noreply@blogger.com1