tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33298910349867059292024-03-13T17:20:19.197-04:00A Babbling BrunetteAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.comBlogger579125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-6078025414348611302020-10-05T09:23:00.001-04:002020-10-05T09:23:44.505-04:00The Best is Yet to Come<p> God, what are you trying to teach me?? What are you trying to show me?? WHY are you challenging me so much? </p><p>These are the things I have been silently screaming for the past 3 weeks. </p><p>The move to GA was nothing short of horrible. We had trial after trial. Almost everything that could go wrong, went wrong. Now that we are here, I'm unhappy for superficial reasons. I'm trying, daily, to look past these things and see that God has a plan. God is never wrong. He knows what He's setting us up for. But I don't. And that's what's eating away at me. </p><p>We have been trying to get to a church and even that has had it's obstacles. It's like the devil is just attacking us from every angle. People say he does that when God has big plans for you. The devil is attacking and trying to stop you because you're here to do big things. Not that I think Paul & I are some incredible people who can make huge impacts...but God is. He's incredible. And He can make huge impacts. </p><p>I guess my point in this post is to say this has been hard. I'm trying to be patient and understand. I'm trying to stop being so negative and down. God is good. Always. He has never let me down. And he's not going to start now. So I'm going to trust Him. I am. Sometimes it just needs to be written down...or typed out, for it to sink in.</p><p>He's already shown us His goodness financially this month. He's showing off. And I love it. So yes, I can trust Him. We are here for His purpose, not ours. </p><p>The best is yet to come.</p>A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-61628452484357460082020-06-24T09:07:00.000-04:002020-06-24T09:07:13.684-04:00An Open BookMost of you know that I'm an open book. I feel like if my transparency can help others going through a similar situation then it's my pleasure really (queue Chick-Fil-A), to share my experiences, emotions, and deepest thoughts. Plus it's therapeutic. So also slightly a selfish move.<br />
<br />
The anniversary of my biological dad's death was this past Saturday. He's been gone now for 14 years, I think. Some of you may wonder why I don't post anything on social media about him on that day or his birthday, or even Father's Day. Here's the thing - what would I say? I didn't really think about him too much on Saturday and if I'm being honest I didn't think about him on Father's Day at all. Today though, I'm thinking about him. Perhaps it's because I listened to Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know," which was one of his favorite songs. I only learned that at his funeral. You see, I didn't know my dad. I have posted about this before but every so often, like today, these feelings just come up out of nowhere. I only really even listen to that song when I'm feeling especially vulnerable.<br />
<br />
The feelings I have though aren't sadness. I'm angry. After 14 years, I'm still angry. And confused. I told my counselor I had handled all of those emotions, but the truth is, I will never fully "handle" them. They will always be there. The reoccurring question that runs through my mind when I think of my dad are "why didn't he love me?" No really. This isn't a sympathy-seeking post. WHY DIDN'T HE LOVE ME? He lived 45 minutes from me. 45 MINUTES!!! When I was 7 years old and he said he lived too far away to come see me on a Saturday, I trusted that was true. Now, I realize just what 45 minutes really is and I'm baffled. What was so much more important than visiting your daughter? The person you created???? I can think of other questions like did he talk about me with his other family? Was I ever even thought about? But really the biggest question is why didn't he love me. I'm a lovable person. I'm funny, I'm interesting, I'm spontaneous... there are reasons to love me! I'll likely never get the answer to this question. But it's there - roaming around in my mind.<br />
<br />
I am blessed though. I'm blessed because I know my Heavenly Father loves me. He loves me more than any earthly father ever could. And I know most fathers love their daughters intensely, so that's a lot of love. God also blessed me with the person I do call my dad. It's funny, because I had this biological tie to a man who created me and we had no connection. Then I have no biological tie - only a legal label - to my step-father who raised me. And now - now he technically isn't even my step-father. We have no legal label anymore yet I'm his daughter and he's my dad. He has shown me unconditional love from the day he met me. And although I'm so thankful and so blessed for it, it will never stop hurting that the man who had a part in my existence didn't even care to get to know me. <br />
<br />
I'm happy he was there for his step-daughter though. I truly am. I would never want anyone to grow up without a father-figure. I'll always tell people what a great musician he was and how I'm 100% sure he would be YouTube famous if he were still here on this earth. He was an excellent artist too. I believe Madi has his artistic abilities. I wanted to know my dad. I admired him. But for whatever reason, which I'm sure was rooted very deep in him, he didn't have the strength or desire to be my dad. Even still, I'll always keep the few memories of him with me.<br />
<br />
<br />A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-62625583504043755812020-04-06T13:44:00.000-04:002020-04-06T13:44:09.665-04:00Love is Prevailing<b>CURRENTLY:</b><br />
<br />
"Social distancing" is now a very common, well-known term.<br />
<br />
Restaurants are open for take-out and delivery only.<br />
<br />
Majority of Americans are working remotely with children at home.<br />
<br />
Schools are closed and have been for 3 weeks already. Some are planning to re-open this year and some are not.<br />
<br />
Graduations are cancelled.<br />
<br />
Dance recitals/competitions are cancelled or post-poned.<br />
<br />
Birthday & anniversary parties are done at home without guests.<br />
<br />
Millions are now unemployed.<br />
<br />
Hospitals are overwhelmed.<br />
<br />
Church services are online only.<br />
<br />
Window shopping is no longer a thing.<br />
<br />
Nursing homes are closed to visitors.<br />
<br />
Gas prices are at an all-time low.<br />
<br />
Travel plans are cancelled.<br />
<br />
<b>AND...</b><br />
<br />
Neighbors are helping neighbors.<br />
<br />
Restaurants are donating unused food to food pantries.<br />
<br />
Teachers are visiting neighborhoods in car parades.<br />
<br />
Grocery stores and restaurants are making sure school children are fed.<br />
<br />
Communities are feeding hospital workers.<br />
<br />
Families are exploring the outdoors, doing crafts, and baking together.<br />
<br />
Churches are reaching triple the audience doing virtual services.<br />
<br />
Strangers are buying strangers' groceries.<br />
<br />
Political parties are coming together for the greater good.<br />
<br />
Random acts of kindness are happening daily.<br />
<br />
Loved ones are celebrating birthdays between glass with posters and smiles.<br />
<br />
Children are learning independence.<br />
<br />
Snail mail is making a comeback.<br />
<br />
Love is overruling fear. Love is prevailing. Love is present.A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-20780597644136606202020-01-02T09:37:00.000-05:002020-01-02T09:37:24.832-05:00God's Got YouThree days ago I took my last dose of Zoloft, an SSRI (antidepressant/anxiety) medication. I have been on Zoloft, or some type of SSRI, for 17 years. That is HALF of my life.<br />
<br />
Before I delve into my thoughts on this, let me preface by saying I firmly believe in the necessity of medication for depression, anxiety, OCD, etc. If I had diabetes I would not deprive myself of the insulin I needed. If your brain is not producing enough serotonin, which is what triggers depression/ & anxiety behaviors, then yes, of course you should visit a doctor and follow the course of action. My oldest daughter had debilitating social anxiety. She is currently on 25mg of Zoloft and now thriving. I believe medication is necessary...sometimes and for a time.<br />
<br />
That being said...17 years ago when I first started taking Zoloft I definitely needed it. I was a Freshman in college and had dealt with anxiety/OCD for as long as I can remember. Here's the key - I wasn't a Christian. I thought I was but I wasn't so I was dealing with my anxiety all on my own. Alone. I was counting on being able to handle this daily, stressful, agonizing worry and stress by myself.<br />
<br />
That just doesn't happen. It's not possible.<br />
<br />
Fast forward a bit, in 2010 I became a Christian. Over the past decade I have had my ups and downs in my walk with God, but over the past 2 years I have become closer to God than ever before. About 8 months ago I made the decision to get off my medicine - to surrender, really - my anxious thoughts, occasional depression, and OCD behaviors to God. To let Him have them. And yes, you read that right - it took me 8 months to go from the maximum dose of Zoloft (200mg) to 0. Was it easy? Nope. Was it exhausting? Yep. Is it a struggle even now that I'm completely off? Yes. Do I feel like I'm going to cry at every single commercial? Yes. Am I succeeding? Yes. Yes, I am. Why? Because I have God.<br />
<br />
Now let me go back to what I said before - serotonin levels in my brain were causing my anxiety. After 17 years on Zoloft I feel like that was plenty of time (more than enough, way more) to restore those levels. I'm not a doctor but based on some reading I do believe those medications are meant for short-term use. <u>The problem is that we begin to believe we can't do life without them. </u>We depend on them. But we don't have to! We can depend on God. God can get us through the anxious thoughts. God can be there for us when we feel like we have to make the bed 100 times (you think I'm joking -- wish I was!). <b>God can be our crutch. </b><br />
<br />
Three days off of Zoloft and I'm feeling good. The journey to get here was rough, but it prepared me for this. It taught me how to go to God when in need. It taught me how to rely on the only One who can truly heal, completely and indefinitely. I'm going to have more anxious thoughts. I'm going to feel the need to triple check the locks, but when I do have those urges, I have someone to get me through it. I have someone to set me straight and help me see that it's something I can overcome.<br />
<br />
I'm telling you all of this because I want you to feel the same freedom. Again, I don't want it to seem like I have something against medicine. I don't. I just don't want others to feel like it's their only option like I did. Zoloft numbed me. It took away the natural feelings I should have. It took away my deeper emotions. It did it's job, for a while. But it was time to do life without it and I'm darn proud of myself for it. I truly am, because life isn't easy. It's tough. We all have our things, but whether you have struggled with anxiety for 25+ years like I have or if you're just going through a tough season, <b><i>God's got you. All you have to do is let Him. Let Him catch you. Let Him lift you up. He will never fail you. Ever. I promise. </i></b><br />
<br />
<3 p=""></3>A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-56456694783916421002019-12-12T08:23:00.000-05:002019-12-12T08:23:21.415-05:00MotherhoodRecently, I have really been struggling with feelings that I'm not a good mom. I'm sure we have all had that fleeting thought but I have really been believing this lie. Social media truly is the enemy in times like this. I love my kids fiercely but I'm not a good mom because I don't live to do Pinterest crafts daily. I forget to move that darn elf at least 3 times a week. The tooth fairy has been on vacation almost regularly the past 4 times a kid has lost a tooth. I don't like to get on the floor and play pretend.<br />
<br />
These are the lies I told myself to justify my feelings of being an inadequate, bad mother. But, as I was confiding these feelings in my husband he brought up a very good point - my identity is not in my children, nor should it be. My identity is in Christ. I don't live FOR my children. I do things for my children. I love my children. I enjoy my children {most of the time}, but I don't surround my entire being around them and that does not make me a bad mom.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm not saying if you are religiously amazing about moving the Elf that you're obsessed with your kids - not saying that at all. I'm just saying that my mom status is not determined by the socially expected pressures of this world today.<br />
<br />
I may not play hide and seek but I do provide for them. I do read to them nightly. I do take the oldest to dance weekly and sit there for an hour 1/2 when I have 100 other things I could be doing. I do take them to church, even when it's raining and cold outside! I do encourage their relationship with Christ. I do sing and dance with them. And, I do punish them. All of which, I can now see, make me to be a good mom.<br />
<br />
Social media is so tough. It's so hard to not compare. It's so hard to not set expectations onto yourself based on the highlight reel of others. It's so hard. But, stop comparing. Stop judging. Stop telling yourself lies. We are all doing the best we can and that's enough. It really is. My kids won't ever grow up knowing what it's like to have a tooth fairy leave money the first night they put their tooth under their pillow. And guess what? They don't know what they are missing! :) Give yourself a break, because I'm giving myself one.<br />
<br />
God made me a mom. God doesn't make mistakes. <3 p=""></3>A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-5788929048448434472019-11-26T09:47:00.002-05:002019-11-26T09:47:41.673-05:00Thanksgiving<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"Don't be pulled in different directions or worried about a thing. Be saturated in prayer throughout each day, offering your faith-filled requests before God with overflowing gratitude. Tell Him every detail of your life, then God's wonderful peace that transcends human understanding, will make the answers known to you through Jesus Christ." -Philippians 4:6-7 TPT</i></div>
<br />
<br />
Holidays are so hard on people. There are expectations, pressure, occasionally drama, and just so much chaos that we often fail to just take it all in. Myself included. This Thanksgiving, I challenge you to just step back. Step away from the clock. Step away from the *gasp* phone. Step away from the structure. If you are supposed to be at Grandma's house at 2pm and Uncle Eddie's house at 4pm - realize that ain't gonna happen. Tell Uncle Eddie that you'll be there when you get there. Next year, don't over-commit. <br />
<br />
We only have this one 2019 Thanksgiving Day. Don't allow yourself to spend it fretting over the uncontrollable. Instead, relish the time with family. Time with family that some people would give anything in this world to have. Embrace the mess that your children are going to make, as cliche as it is - making memories. Laugh about the burnt rolls.<br />
<br />
I'm even going to challenge you to take less pictures. Yeah, I said it. When you're behind the phone/camera, you're behind the scenes. You're not IN the picture. You're not experiencing the moment. You might be capturing the moment, <i>but wouldn't you rather remember that moment as something you were a part of instead of something you were just observing? </i><br />
<br />
I'm heeding my own advice. This is for me too. Just think about it. Make this holiday count.<br />
<br />
And don't forget your stretchy pants.<br />
<br />
<3 p=""></3>A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-51286125704971361392019-10-06T14:07:00.000-04:002019-10-06T14:10:27.449-04:00All In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS7fVAyD1QkyR0VGxRs4NxvmSiWZsCjjqhhPswd0OOdY9ZymbexdF9YS6dE1GW_SAYQV7cvw5Uwd5uiAzqtiC0GHv_7f83G0eQGRqQ8ai5sBhMK1ZLd6YKoDxB5lnNYNXaRPJ7_10dTw/s1600/9213B678-9D44-49A2-87E0-7E8FF4CAA736.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS7fVAyD1QkyR0VGxRs4NxvmSiWZsCjjqhhPswd0OOdY9ZymbexdF9YS6dE1GW_SAYQV7cvw5Uwd5uiAzqtiC0GHv_7f83G0eQGRqQ8ai5sBhMK1ZLd6YKoDxB5lnNYNXaRPJ7_10dTw/s320/9213B678-9D44-49A2-87E0-7E8FF4CAA736.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>
One of my favorite preachers mentioned this a few years ago but I didn’t quite grasp the impact at the time.<br />
<br />
I went to a football game last weekend. Well, not just any football game - Clemson vs. UNC. If you follow college football even a little bit, you have heard about this game. It was intense. Like edge of your seat, standing up, jumping, back to the edge of your seat kind of intense - for both teams.<br />
<br />
<br />
Football fans are not shy about their commitment, excitement, and loyalty to their team. They wear clothes to represent their team (& to let everyone know who they cheer for); put decals on their vehicles; and some even paint their faces in the team colors. They also jump up and down and SCREAM for their team. I was one of those people. And the thing is, they do this in public. Without caring who sees or hears them.<br />
<br />
But Christians. Do we do this? Without a second thought or reservation? Do we stand up in church and raise our hands without resisting? Or do we first look around to see who else has their hands up? Do we encourage the pastor by shouting out to them or do we hold it in? But wait, we just said we quickly, without thought shout at the QB. We quickly shout at the coach and the refs. We adamantly jump up and down when our team scores.<br />
<br />
What if, Christians had no reservations or limitations to praising God? What if, we worshipped Him with all we had and lost our voices FOR HIM?? What if, we voiced words of encouragement and confirmation to our pastors?<br />
<br />
Wouldn’t the church become a completely new level of worship?<br />
<br />
Just a thought for today. Just a thought for my fellow Christians, and of course myself. I checked myself before church this morning & I moved to the music just a little bit harder today. God deserves more than football. A whole lot more.<br />
<br />
PS. Go Tigers. #ALLIN #ALLINforJESUStooA Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-14602372429871792292019-08-09T10:09:00.001-04:002019-08-09T10:09:09.704-04:00This Season.I can't be the only mom who feels this way.<br />
<br />
Wake up. Take care of kids. Go to work. Take care of kids. Clean the house. Take care of kids. <strike>Go to sleep</strike> -- take care of kids -- go back to sleep. Repeat.<br />
<br />
This morning I found myself wallowing in what is my life. I have no excitement. It feels so mundane. We are in the midst of potty training our 2.5 year old and the number of trips to the bathroom far exceed my 10,000 steps a day, I'm sure.<br />
<br />The laundry, the sweeping, the 40 hour a week job, the grocery shopping, the bathroom scrubbing - when does it end???? The whining, the clingy-ness, the neediness - when does it end??? I'll be the first to admit, I'm not one of those super emotional moms about my kids growing up. No judgement on those who are (I know I'm in the minority here), but I enjoy seeing my kids grow into their independence and complete their "firsts." BUT, as I sit here in my own self-pity, chocolate donut in hand, I realize something not so very profound -- this season shall pass. My husband pointed that out to me actually, so I can't take all the credit.<br />
<br />
<b>This season, too, shall pass.</b> It's true. I may always have a house to clean, but maybe one day I can afford a house cleaner?? Or, how about, I'm just happy to HAVE a house to clean. Our daughter is not going to be clingy forever. She's not going to need me every minute of every day forever. She is not going to be screaming "I need to pee!" in the middle of a restaurant forever. (At least we hope not!)<br />
<br />
So, as I finish my chocolate donut, I'm telling myself to enjoy these days. To get over the fact that my house looks like a bunch of slobs live there. To tell myself that I'm only human and isn't it more important that my kids are fed and bathed rather than my floors polished and dishes washed?<br />
<br />
Maybe some moms can do it all. But I'm sure even they feel like they are inadequate in some area of their life. So, we need to stop trying to do it all. Stop eating the donut to indulge in our self-pity and realize that this season will pass and we will miss it. We will miss the <strike>chips</strike> grapes on the floor and we will wish we didn't have time to do the dishes the same day we used them.<br />
<br />
You're doing a good job, mom. So hang in there. Life is only mundane if you let it be mundane.A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-9317130532355374842019-07-01T12:09:00.001-04:002019-07-01T12:10:25.377-04:00Faith cures the incurable.<span style="font-size: large;">Incurable.</span><br />
<br />
That's a scary word.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Faith.</span><br />
<br />
That's a comforting word.<br />
<br />
It's also a <i>much more</i> <b>powerful</b> word.<br />
<br />
God commands us to have Faith. Faith doesn't know the meaning of the word incurable.<br />
God can cure anything and anyone.<br />
<br />
Madi was blessed enough to see that to fruition.<br />
<br />
In 2016, after <u>years</u> of weekly fevers, breathing treatments, weekly doctor visits, numerous rounds of steroids, terrifying weight loss, and many days of missed school, she was diagnosed with Bronchiectasis.<br />
<br />
Bronchiectasis is an INCURABLE, chronic illness.<br />
<br />
About a year 1/2 ago, Paul and I made the difficult decision to take Madi off of her medication because we had seen vast improvement in her condition. She was on a corticosteroid inhaler twice a day, nebulizer treatments once a day, albuterol inhaler once a day at school, and vest treatments twice a day. After taking her off all of that, she was still thriving! Madi has not had lung issues in almost two years. Because of this, I reached out to get a second opinion on her condition. Despite it being "incurable," she seemed pretty cured to me.<br />
<br />
Friday, June 28th, I was told that Madi no longer has Bronchiectasis. Wait, what? It's incurable they said. It will be with her for the rest of her life. She will have to do nebulizer treatments and vest treatments twice a day for years and years.<br />
<br />
God had other plans. God CURED her. Oh how incredibly blessed we are! I can't remember now if I ever blogged about this but a few months ago I was at communal prayer at church and I got this overwhelming message from the Holy Spirit that Madi was cured. This was before the second opinion appointment. This was before the X-ray results. This was before the clinical confirmation.<br />
<br />
I say all of this to say - Never give up hope. Always have faith. Trust God. And if things don't seem to be going your way, He still has a plan. You may not see it now, but it will all make sense eventually.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCqSfWNoyxhvzlerT_4B05veEXBZ6-_JxgDw8h8RFxtYCbZ9zL0HViCKPZ2SCbxySd92vcddC1RONZ04PoOmSb_NsjNvTUS8Xv_v-kzRyKk0nXEgU0jWAwIlA7Mj8H65yTHFFGUHK1gw/s1600/15326401_737557767618_7054668752677078058_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCqSfWNoyxhvzlerT_4B05veEXBZ6-_JxgDw8h8RFxtYCbZ9zL0HViCKPZ2SCbxySd92vcddC1RONZ04PoOmSb_NsjNvTUS8Xv_v-kzRyKk0nXEgU0jWAwIlA7Mj8H65yTHFFGUHK1gw/s200/15326401_737557767618_7054668752677078058_n.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGSrxnvKk0RyNstEjEGvYiwQvHzSfuOecOP9wXh-shBC_bmXqkLYwhe5kfYtHhz1AMB31VCYgQQugRoWNo5cQf01Q0hWAAcYI4RPFLDX1PDmKEnnQrWIvbpSlofqRUSYftoj2wzwqCfAA/s1600/61832349_905763556868_8011700623793717248_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGSrxnvKk0RyNstEjEGvYiwQvHzSfuOecOP9wXh-shBC_bmXqkLYwhe5kfYtHhz1AMB31VCYgQQugRoWNo5cQf01Q0hWAAcYI4RPFLDX1PDmKEnnQrWIvbpSlofqRUSYftoj2wzwqCfAA/s200/61832349_905763556868_8011700623793717248_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
THEN NOW</div>
<br />A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-78723213823155790392019-06-19T14:30:00.001-04:002019-06-19T14:30:33.357-04:00Rebuilt<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8228835485461852706" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 578px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Molengo; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQIGQCVE4_bY1ErcsblNYHCOTgXLodO0okol8ytEA-uwaLHR2bthMc6xpiQiOOxYbMfdOTRktd4Js4b2BESijFryb-8zwPyAharH-4nopBUFefREm_l3YyOybZ_dAH0mi20dXTcxgcd4/s1600/book-lalalovely-quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #99cc66; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="1600" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQIGQCVE4_bY1ErcsblNYHCOTgXLodO0okol8ytEA-uwaLHR2bthMc6xpiQiOOxYbMfdOTRktd4Js4b2BESijFryb-8zwPyAharH-4nopBUFefREm_l3YyOybZ_dAH0mi20dXTcxgcd4/s320/book-lalalovely-quote.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /><div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The quote above is from a book I'm currently reading called La La Lovely by Trina McNeilly. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>At the end, there is a beginning. </b>Oh how that resonates with me so very deeply. A few months ago, actually I can tell you the exact date - March 8, 2018, I hit the bottom. The end. The very rock hard <u>bottom.</u> </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have struggled with a serious condition for as long as I can remember. I have to take medication for it and I have to see doctors about it, yet it's a condition I am often ashamed to admit having. My serious, sometimes debilitating condition, is anxiety. <b>Anxiety.</b> Anxiety has controlled the majority of my adult life. I have many regrets from it and much of my life is lived in fear. Fears that span from if I left my hair straightener plugged in to traveling 30 hours across the world and turning right back around once I landed. On March 8, 2018 anxiety got the better of me. It altered my foundation and I did something I'm ashamed of yet I can honestly say I would not take it back if given the chance. <span style="font-size: medium;">You see, this ending turned into my beginning. My foundation was COMPLETELY rebuilt. Not restored - rebuilt. I'm now working towards living a full life.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On March 8, 2018 I called in sick to work for personal reasons and made same-day appointments with my family doctor and my therapist. <i>(I want to tell my story but the cause of my anxiety is not really something I want to share because it's not only my story to tell. The cause isn't really necessary to relay what I'm trying to say here.)</i></span></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went to my family doctor that morning and explained to her that I literally felt like I had been holding my breath for weeks and could not let it out. I told her my medication was not doing its job. I told her that I couldn't function and I certainly was not being the kind of mother I needed to be. She prescribed me with Ativan and decreased my medication in preparation to switch to a different SSRI. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went home, turned my TV to the Beachbody app and proceeded to work out while crying my eyes out. I screamed as loud as I could while bawling in squat position. I don't know what I did to kill time the remainder of the day but that afternoon I went to my therapist appointment. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She did not help me. It was not her job to "fix" me but it was her job to pay attention to me and refrain from googling everything I said. That appointment basically went like this: I cried my eyes out while trying to get words out. She gave me not very helpful, not very Christian advice while googling. </span></div>
<div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><div style="color: black; font-size: medium;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That evening I went home and continued to just fall apart. My husband had to go get our oldest from Girl Scouts because I couldn't stop crying long enough to drive. Once he got home, he went into the bathroom and I began googling how much Ativan would cause some numbness/put me to sleep but NOT kill me. Let me say that again - I checked with a pharmacist and google to ensure that the 4.5mg of Ativan I was about to swallow would not kill me. I want to make that very clear and although it may not make sense to you, or the insurance company, or the hospital (more on that later) -- I did not want to kill myself. This was a cry for attention. A poor cry for help. A scream for attention really. And ultimately, an act of complete fear of my anxious thoughts. After swallowing 4.5 mg of Ativan I texted my brother and told him. I asked him to tell my husband. And the night gets a bit fuzzy from there.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What transpired over the next 72 hours forced me to look inside myself and reach out to God in complete desperation and realization. Lying in that hospital bed, Paul and I made the tough decision to admit me into an "Adult Behavioral Facility" also known as a mental hospital. That's right - I went to a mental hospital. As a teenager my mother often, very often in fact, threatened to send me to one. Little did I know that it would be the place that saved me from myself. Correction - the complete and utter loneliness and fear and boredom of the mental hospital - is what lead me to completely 110% surrender to God and give Him ALL my fears and ALL my anxiety and ALL my pain. <i>It's not that I wasn't saved. It's that I was saved but did what so many of us Christians do. I had put God on the back-burner. I had neglected Him yet expected Him to fix me.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not sure about you but when I thought of an overnight rehab facility (which maybe that was more of what this was than a mental hospital), I thought of a place to receive counseling and coping mechanisms. When Paul and I decided I should go there we thought I would be getting the help I needed by professionals. The reality is that no such thing occurred. I could write a completely separate post on my experience there, and maybe I will, but for now just know that the only help I received I received by searching within my self and coming to the "duh" realization that only God can see me through the toughest of times - through the deepest of ruts. <b>Only. God.</b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You see, in that place there was nothing to occupy my time. Sure there was a television but the last thing I could do was focus on a TV show. I was given a pad of paper and a "pen" if you want to call it that. There were no games, no puzzles, no magazines, and no books. Within about 2 hours of being there I asked if they had Bibles. I was given a strange look and then handed a KJV Bible. Now, I don't know if you are used to reading KJV but I most certainly am not and I could not understand what I was reading for the life of me. I mean I tried to read it but it just didn't make much sense to me. So, I journaled - a lot. I wrote my prayers and wrote to people who still had a hold on me emotionally and mentally. I prayed. I prayed all day long. I prayed all night long my last night there.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>I went into this place a depressed, fear-ridden, angry person and came out a determined, rebuilt, grateful sinner.</i></span> My point is this - when you are going through the darkest of pain and the only way you see out is to make a rash decision to grasp any attention possible from those you love - don't. It's that simple. Just don't do it. Instead, get on your knees and cry out to God because God will ALWAYS give you the attention you so desperately need. He may not tell you what you want to hear. But He will always listen and He will always walk you through your pain. Had I reached out to God instead of swallowing those pills, do I think I would have still come to these realizations? I do. They may have taken a bit longer but I would not be $6000 in debt from hospital bills. I would not have the embarrassment and shame that I have. I would not have put my husband through complete terror and pain. I would not have the obligation of explaining to our children why I did what I did (when the time comes, of course). <b>I truly believe God allowed me to fall on my face, hard, so that he could be there to pick up the pieces with me.</b> He knew I would need him and He was right there - He was always right there. I had been waiting for my husband to make me happy. I had been waiting for my life to just turn into sunshine and rainbows without working at it. Let me tell you - life is WORK. I was surrendering to my anxiety instead of surrendering my anxiety to God.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I got home from that terrifying yet transforming 72 hours at the loony bin (I say that in fun...I like to laugh at my crazy), I was a different person. <u>I could feel it in my soul.</u> I had doubters - my husband and my counselor, in fact. But did I blame them? Of course not. Who goes away for 72 hours and comes back a new person? I'll tell you who - a person who has given all of that ugliness to God. My anger did not completely subside. My fears and anxieties did not completely fade away. My negativity did not diminish completely. BUT my overall 360 degree view of my life had a new lens. I saw my life for what it truly was. I was blessed. God blessed me with this beautiful life and my lens had been fogged for so long that I needed a hard kick in the gut to see through the fog. With God, I can do this. I can do this life. I can push my anxieties back and I can control my anger. I can fight through the ungodly obstacles and temptations of this ungodly world and get on my knees and pray.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am no longer a victim to anxiety. I am a survivor and you can be a survivor, too. You just have to WANT it. Surrender to the Heavenly Father and He can and will get you through <b>ANYTHING.</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "times new roman"; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-align: center;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<img alt="Image result for isaiah 58:11-12 images" class="irc_mi" height="353" src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/9c/b8/9d/9cb89d0e81f6919d3e5ac68f63c5adab--father-quotes-more-than-words.jpg" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="273" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-7260340497258985582019-05-13T13:21:00.002-04:002019-05-13T13:21:46.254-04:00Faith WinsT<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">oday, PMDD is winning. Today, I feel defeated. Today, I feel alone. Today, I feel isolated. Today, I feel invisible. Today, I feel uncomfortable. Today, I feel rejected. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Four days out from starting my period - it's right on time. PMDD never misses a beat. It doesn't forget a month. It doesn't lose track of time. It doesn't go on vacation. Or even worse - it DOES go on vacation (with you).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today, PMDD is winning - rather, right now PMDD is winning. But, it's not going to take my entire day. I won't let it. Right now, I'm kicking it to the curb. I'm telling it to take a backseat and leave me alone. I'm praying to God to take over and take control. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Right now, my faith will prevail. Right now, I will receive the comfort that only God can provide. Right now, I will see myself as God sees me. Right now, I will embrace the love that God has for me. Right now, I will know I am accepted by the One who matters most. Right now, I will overcome.</span><br />
<br />
<br />A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-74997874184811927302019-05-10T08:29:00.000-04:002019-05-10T08:29:56.959-04:00PMDD<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My name is Brittan. I'm 34 years old and I'm still not sure if I
have received an official diagnosis of PMDD.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I have had anxiety for as long
as I can remember, but over the past 10 years or so I have been having extreme
mood changes. I never tracked my moods until a year ago when I was at rock
bottom sitting in my therapist's office (the same day I would later swallow too
many Ativan) and she mentioned PMDD. She told me to go see my gynecologist
because she thinks I have the disorder. She also told me to start tracking my
moods. And so I did just that. I waited about 2 months to see my gynecologist
so that I would have accurate "data" to back up what my therapist
suggested. And sure enough, my irregular mood swings fell right in line with my
cycle. About a week before my period and until about the 4th or 5th day of
being on it I was a different person. I felt insecure, jealous, angry,
short-tempered, unfocused, unmotivated, and sometimes suicidal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
I brought all of this to my gynecologists' attention. I was hopeful to have
some answers, but instead of providing me with confirmation that I'm not crazy
and I do in fact have PMDD, she brushed it off and acted like I just had normal
anxiety and perhaps my Zoloft was no longer effective. Mind you I was on 200mg,
the highest dose of Zoloft. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I left that appointment
confused and defeated. I felt like maybe I didn't have PMDD and therefore, I
didn't have an explanation as to why I called out of work once a month due to
feeling completely depressed and unmotivated. I felt like I didn't have an
explanation as to why I was impatient with my kids and my husband. I felt like
there was something wrong with me that couldn't be explained medically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It's funny, up until today,
when I sat down to write this all out I had not even checked to see if my cycle
lined up with the time that I swallowed those pills and ended up in an Adult Behavioral
Facility. Sure enough - it did. I was two days off my period and I was having a
terrible episode. Sure, I had personal issues going on and I had life stresses
but doesn't everyone? Everyone doesn't swallow pills in an attempt to escape
from their own mind. Everyone doesn't snap at their friends and isolate
themselves once a month. Everyone doesn’t feel completely helpless and alone
once a month. For up to two weeks. Like clockwork. It’s like waiting for a
crash to happen. Just waiting to ruin all the good things in your life because your
emotions and moods take over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My stint in the behavioral
facility provided time for me to reestablish my relationship with God. I may
not have an official PMDD diagnosis yet, but I know that God would never have
created me to experience such mood imbalances and life-altering symptoms. I
know I have PMDD. I don't need a doctor to tell me that. All of my symptoms and
tracking proves it. I'm getting an IUD this month to hopefully mask some of the
PMDD symptoms, but I don't expect it to fully "cure" me. Now that I
have a self-diagnosis of PMDD I can better prepare my mind when that dreaded
date pops up on my calendar. I can pray more. I can make myself be around
friends. I can recognize that the way I'm feeling is not me, but a disorder
that I will not let take over. Through my strength in God I will overcome
this storm! And you can too!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-80722653707746078612019-03-11T11:49:00.000-04:002019-03-11T11:49:14.209-04:00I'm Pro-Life and I Support the Girl ScoutsI'm Pro-Life and this is why I'm NOT pulling my daughter out of Girl Scouts:<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To be completely honest I had to meddle with this decision for a few days after the article surfaced about the Girl Scout's Pro-Abortion project. I have heard the rumors, if you will, in the past about the Girl Scouts of America supporting Pro-Choice organizations and having a Pro-Choice "stance," but I could not find reliable information to back that up. (I'm sure you can find some, but I really don't care what it is. Keep reading...)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
First of all though, the article that surfaced is poorly titled (on purpose, I'm sure) and misleading. The Girl Scouts "highest honor," the Gold Award, is not a contest. It's similar to the Boy Scouts Eagle Award. There are many criteria a Girl Scout must meet prior to submitting the Gold Award application. If a Girl Scout meets each required criteria of applying for the Gold Award AND completes the final project meeting all the requirements, they receive the Award. So, that being said, I'm sure if a Girl Scout had created a presentation on a Pro-Life movement, she would also receive the Gold Award. The Girl Scouts did not pick this one project over another. They did not say, "Hey we support abortion!" They awarded the Girl Scout the Gold Award because all of the boxes were checked for that honor. She completed her 80 hours of coursework and completed her project - period.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, that being said, have I read the information about the Girl Scouts donating funds to the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts (WAGGGS)? Yes. Do I think the Girl Scouts of America supports abortion? Not necessarily. Per their website, they donate to WAGGGS, BUT and read this carefully - YOUR COOKIE MONEY DOES NOT FUND THIS DONATION. Cookie money and girl dues stay within the Girl Scouts' council. The money does not go to WAGGGS. Cookie money is used to 1 - pay for the cookies and 2 - support the Girl Scouts in that particular troop. With the cookie money they are able to plan an end of the year party to celebrate all that they have learned that year, which I assure you is not lessons on "why you should be pro-choice." <i>They learn how to become decision makers and independent leaders. They learn how to manage money and how to improve our environment. They learn how to conserve water and other resources. They learn how to be a good friend and how to improve their self-confidence.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What I want to get across to you is this: If you stopped supporting every organization that supported something you don't believe in, you would have to create all of your own items/resources. If you're pro-life you need to immediately stop using your American Express card. Oh and no more Bath & Body Works products for you. Are you a germaphobe? No more Clorox. All those deals you're getting? Delete the Groupon app. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm not trying to be sarcastic. I just think if you're going to blast one organization for possibly supporting a morale issue that you disagree with, make sure you have the facts AND be consistent all around. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Girl Scouts organization has taught my daughter so many valuable lessons. She looks forward to going to her troop meetings. She loves selling cookies. She is PROUD of her patches that she earns. As long as she isn't being taught that she should be Pro-Choice, I'm going to keep taking her to meetings and keep being the "cookie mom." <b>I love what the Girl Scouts' TRULY stands for and that's empowering girls and building up their self-esteem. </b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now, go eat some thin mints. I'm going to. :)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-41175635268706160452019-01-20T12:50:00.000-05:002019-01-20T12:50:02.448-05:00The Holy SpiritThe Holy Spirit spoke to me, so clearly, today during worship at church. He said to me - Madi is CURED. He also said to me that I haven't thanked God for that. I stopped and thought about it - I hadn't.<br />
<br />
No doctor has declared her cured of Bronchiectasis but the Holy Spirit confirmed what I have suspected for almost a year now. She truly is cured. Two years ago she barely weighed 48 lbs soaking wet. As a then 8 year old girl her bones were protruding and she was constantly pale as a ghost. She could barely breathe and missed over 30 days a school each year for two years. She had to do a corticosteroid inhaler twice a day, a nebulizer treatment once a day, and vest therapy twice a day. She has not done ANY of those things in at least 9 months and has had NO respiratory issues. HALLELUJAH. Truly. When Madi was diagnosed, her doctor told us that she had an incurable illness that would be with her the rest of her life. He said the illness could affect her life expectancy. As her mother I immediately became fearful and saddened for her. She wouldn't be able to enjoy sleepovers without the embarrassment and hassle of taking her vest with her and her inhalers. She would have to pack an inhaler in her purse when she went to prom. She wouldn't be able to get a good life insurance policy when she got older (I'm an Insurance agent; I can't help that thought!). But you know what? What the doctor did not know was that our God is a MIRACLE WORKER. Madi may never be taller than 5 feet due to all the steroids she had to take as a child, but she WILL thrive and she won't have to be tutored at home from missing too much school and she won't have to live with this condition.<br />
<br />
My little girl is just fine and she's going to be just fine. Even if she wasn't cured, I know God will always take care of her. But the peace and relief and comfort of her being healed from this illness is something to be celebrated and thankful for.<br />
<br />
So today I am thanking and praising and worshiping God. Today and everyday. I may have let the distractions of raising a tween fog my vision but today the Holy Spirit opened my eyes to the blessings of God. GOD HEALED MADI. GOD IS A WAY MAKER, GOD IS A MIRACLE WORKER. And you know what? He can bring healing to your life too. It may not be in the same manner, but God is ALWAYS working and He is ALWAYS good. Lift up your worries and concerns and stresses to God and He will never let you down.<br />
<br />
Happy Sunday, y'all!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-86016656537546779862018-07-16T10:26:00.000-04:002018-07-16T10:26:23.121-04:00A Letter to NewSpring Church<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>I posted this on my private blog a few years ago. I feel like this needs to be public now though. I was saved during a service at NewSpring Church so I will always appreciate and hold dear the memories I made there, but that church is not the same without Perry Noble. I initially did not share this publicly in order to protect the church, but I feel like I'm doing a disservice to them by not sharing my experience. I hope this helps the leaders change some things at NewSpring. (ahem...cease on the cliques)</i></span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br /><i>This was initially written to Perry Noble so I'm just going to leave it as it is but essentially it should be to NewSpring Church.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">Dear Perry (or whomever actually reads these things):</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">I don't actually think you will ever see this, as I know you receive hundreds of emails a day, but maybe someone who can make an impact, will see it.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">My name is Brittan and I am the girl who flew to Kenya with NewSpring back in June of 2013 and came home immediately after getting there. I'm assuming you heard about this as I'm sure I'm probably the only person in America to ever do such a thing. Getting through Customs certainly wasn't easy. Ha!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">I want to tell you that leaving and not following through on my commitment to God's plan for me is the biggest regret of my life.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><u style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">There has not been one day</u><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"> since I came back that I didn't think about what would have been, had I stayed.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">I'm hoping that since you too struggle with anxiety that you will understand what I went through. I had one of the worst panic attacks I have ever had, once we got to the hotel in Kenya. I could not use the phone and that was all I wanted to do. It had been 30 hours or so since I talked to my then 4 year old daughter, but it felt like days. I hadn't slept in those 30 hours and I know that had I just gone to sleep and waited to make such a big decision, I wouldn't have left early. But that is not something I can change. And in the midst of a panic attack I wasn't exactly thinking logically. It was a full blown attack - I couldn't breathe, I couldn't focus, I couldn't stop shaking and I was feeling 100% trapped.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">My point of this post is to tell you that I love NewSpring. (I was saved at NewSpring in October of 2009 and since then I have seen numerous family and friends be saved.) I truly do. But I think there is room for improvement. Important improvement.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">I signed up to go on a trip across the world with a group of people whom I'd never met. We had two meetings before the trip, but those were informational meetings without any encouragement to get to know one another. There were no emails from the leader, as I've heard there have been on other trips. There was no preparation really. The day of the trip, there were no introductions. The trip I went on had a lot of staff and so there were basically cliques - staff, people who had been to Kenya before, and newbies. Staff didn't associate with anyone else. It was very uncomfortable.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">So, when we got to Africa, to say I felt alone was an understatement. I did have my cousin with me and thank goodness for her. We did not pray along the way, as a team. We were not given information that some of the staff had (i.e.: safari cards so that panic-ridden people like me could have a phone connection anywhere in Kenya). It was just overall, not a very welcoming environment. I know I wasn't the only person who felt this way either.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">When I was having my panic attack, the leader and another staff member were understanding and helpful. I will say that. But once I got home - <b>no one checked on me, no one reached out to see how I was emotionally or spiritually - or if I was okay with my decision. I didn't hear from anyone. </b>To me, this was very disappointing. I realize that 410 Bridge had to jump through some hoops for me and I sincerely appreciate it. But for me to call NewSpring my home and not have anyone show they truly cared about me hurts a little. Actually, it hurts a lot.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">The truth is, I want to go back to Kenya some day. I am too embarrassed to probably ever follow through with it, but it was laid on my heart by God and that desire has not gone away. I can't help but think that if the experience leading up to the trip included more spiritual readiness and team work that my trip would have lasted longer than 48 hours of plane rides.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">I hope that this information is helpful in preparing for future mission trips and I also hope that you understand that the crazy girl who left Kenya, wasn't actually crazy - just severely anxious and sleep deprived.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">My heart is still in Kenya and I thank you for all that NewSpring has done there.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">Brittan Morris <i>(at the time)</i></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">Columbia Campus</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-42418112834254982812017-04-11T19:55:00.003-04:002018-06-20T22:54:07.912-04:00To Remember...I saw this on a friend's instagram and decided it's something I want to do too. I figured doing it in a blog post is just as easy to track.<br />
<br />
To Carson:<br />
<br />
I want to remember...<br />
<br />
that every single night for the past 176 nights, you have fallen asleep on my chest.<br />
<br />
that when I try to sing to you, you pop your little head up and give me the biggest grin.<br />
<br />
that the minute your clothes come off you kick, smile, and wiggle like all is right in the world.<br />
<br />
that when you nurse, you prop your foot up on my chest like it's a foot rest.<br />
<br />
that you rub my arm at night when you're falling asleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
Additions as of 6/20/18:<br />
<br />
that your Dada lights up your whole entire world.<br />
<br />
that when you see your sisters you smile and laugh like you do with no one else.<br />
<br />
that you are so full of life and energy and personality.<br />
<br />
that every time I am on the phone you say "Hi Dada!" even if it's not Dada.<br />
<br />
that you rip off your diaper any chance you get.<br />
<br />
that the only time you sit still is to read a book.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-85279846870024292372016-11-18T13:27:00.003-05:002016-11-18T13:33:07.770-05:00Answered Prayers!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSiL6G169F8h7vkCnWWBbwGA5nJjG5gJi8K_0NJ-SiQxSfbOro-AT10T8kauXkgNufDOjNDWi6ZyKnaBHxWYIsrJmSchqv8WsAc0FIaZBP4chfE6a9AH4C3Fp3xNCF414w9chjlg_k8Co/s1600/14991955_732175453818_2520406055068845125_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSiL6G169F8h7vkCnWWBbwGA5nJjG5gJi8K_0NJ-SiQxSfbOro-AT10T8kauXkgNufDOjNDWi6ZyKnaBHxWYIsrJmSchqv8WsAc0FIaZBP4chfE6a9AH4C3Fp3xNCF414w9chjlg_k8Co/s320/14991955_732175453818_2520406055068845125_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Many of you have been praying for Madi over the past year or two, so I wanted to let everyone know the latest update on her health issues.<br />
<br />
If you haven't been keeping up with it on FB, I'll give you a brief overview. Madi was diagnosed with asthma when she was two years old. She has had pneumonia twice, strep throat three times, and other various illnesses for the past 5 years. Madi missed 19 days of school last year due to wheezing and coughing which we assumed was part of her asthma. She has been on many, many variations of medications to treat her asthma, none of which have helped.<br />
<br />
Finally our Asthma/Allergy specialist referred us to a Pulmonlogist. That has been a God-send! After a bronchoscopy, blood work, and a CT scan - we have a diagnosis!!! Y'all - I have been praying for this for years. To say I was elated is an under-statement. After reviewing her CT scan, Madi's dr informed us that she has an illness called Bronchiectasis (I didn't even have to use spellcheck!). Bronchiectasis is not curable, but it is treatable and very manageable. I will give you the American Lung Association definition:<br />
<span style="color: #555559; font-family: "lato" , sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">Bronchiectasis is a chronic condition where the walls of the bronchi are thickened from inflammation and infection. People with bronchiectasis have periodic flare-ups of breathing difficulties, called exacerbations.</span><br />
So, all of those weeks of uncontrollable wheezing and coughing were actually exacerbations and not asthma flare-ups.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, we have a wonderful doctor and he had already started Madi on one of the medications used to treat this, even before he knew what she had. That medciation that we had trouble getting insurance to approve - that is the one that is helping. After a month and one week of being on the medication Madi's lungs sound GOOD for the first time in a year!! We went to the doctor on Monday and left without doing a nebulizer treatment or even checking her pulse oxygen levels. That is HUGE. Typically a simple doctor's visit lasts 2 hours for us because we never get out of there without at least one, usually two, nebulizer treatments. Praise Jesus for her new medication!! (OH! And on Wednesday Madi had tennis practice - I have never seen her run so fast and so freely!! She could BREATHE y'all. I wasn't worried about getting her inhaler to her or her being out of breath. It was amazing!!!)<br />
<br />
The other course of treatment will be a vest that she has to wear. The vest will stimulate her lungs and push the mucus out which is not currently happening on its own. Her doctor did say this would also be a fight with insurance but he's ready to fight for us so please keep this in your prayers.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, she will still need to continue taking her steroid inhaler and her rescue inhaler (prior to exercise) but we are hopeful that once this condition is under control we will be able to ween her off of these.<br />
<br />
We do still have a few other things we have to do though in order to find the cause of the Bronchiectasis. This condition is cause by an under-lying condition. Her doctor thinks he knows what that is but wants to be sure. She is seeing an ENT in a few weeks and he will do a biopsy of her nose to look for cilia. Cilia are the tiny hairs on your nose and your lungs that push mucus/infection out of your body. If she does not have this, that would explain the Bronchiectasis. There is not really anything they can do if she does not have it but it would simply give us an understanding of why she has this condition.<br />
<br />
SO if you made it through all of that - good job! We are really blessed and thankful that it is not something more serious. We are all tired of doctors visits and hospital trips but are so glad we have answers. This will be a continual effort - especially because this condition does cause her immune system to be weaker - but we are going to do everything we can to keep her healthy! Thank you again for all of your prayers and concern. We love y'all! <3Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-69734721534482865602016-10-21T20:55:00.000-04:002016-10-21T20:55:19.772-04:00To My First Born<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_6Y5mROvA_Nq3IWabs5A9mNexqHYWKUY6EV26NiIspxuTHqpSQs2lC0YhnRdI1g8vyqoAXNv9HqspdNM5XZmqmojZ9ntcbHUx0hdEErlYnyTT4kJGt7Xqx9S2_mhhOgCSUtlM-6moxg/s1600/IMG_2361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_6Y5mROvA_Nq3IWabs5A9mNexqHYWKUY6EV26NiIspxuTHqpSQs2lC0YhnRdI1g8vyqoAXNv9HqspdNM5XZmqmojZ9ntcbHUx0hdEErlYnyTT4kJGt7Xqx9S2_mhhOgCSUtlM-6moxg/s320/IMG_2361.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
You may or may not have noticed that we have not posted any pictures of Madi and Carson together, or a family picture. I see all of the sibling and family pictures on Facebook when newborns arrive and imagined we would be posting the same. However, Madi is not ready to take pictures with Carson. She is not ready to kiss Carson or hug her. She is not ready to share her mommy. This letter is for my first born - the baby girl who taught me what unconditional love feels like - so this is for her and my keyboard is already almost soaked with tears.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIkq4HONe2YnYKRoqxmBzjkcOKrC8MtOlk0ush87bAPKMO772Sg-MgsPL2vm-OBu6FqMqzOR22PHqhSFGq5eV9WfvMWpZTEBb8TlvAbxlwe6SyfCaJB4FUFyJst4YyCXDtXPdMfpNjNE/s1600/IMG_2362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIkq4HONe2YnYKRoqxmBzjkcOKrC8MtOlk0ush87bAPKMO772Sg-MgsPL2vm-OBu6FqMqzOR22PHqhSFGq5eV9WfvMWpZTEBb8TlvAbxlwe6SyfCaJB4FUFyJst4YyCXDtXPdMfpNjNE/s320/IMG_2362.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Dear Sweet Girl,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The picture above is one I took of you last night after you fell asleep. It was the first time I put you to bed since having Carson and it was wonderful, yet painful - for the both of us. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I knew that having a sibling was going to be hard on you. You and I have been inseparable since you were born. We have spent so, so many moments together - just the two of us for almost eight years. These past nine months have been hard on me - because I didn't want our special times to end either. I cried many tears thinking about it not just being you and me anymore. But I also know that Carson is a gift for both of us. You and I will always have our special time together. We can still be best friends. But maybe some times Carson can join in on our fun. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but she will be your best friend for life. She will be there for you and you will be there for her. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I wish I could make you feel the depth of love I have for you. I wish I could make you believe me when I say that having Carson has not changed that depth of love or <u>how</u> I love you. Mommy has enough room in her heart to love you and to love Carson - to love you both with every depth of my soul. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I pray that you will warm up to having a sister very soon. Not for any reason other than I don't want you to miss out on this time with your baby sister. I want to put you to bed even when I have to feed Carson. I want to hug you even when I'm holding Carson. I want you to be okay with that, but I can be patient. I can wait on you to be ready. I just pray that God will give me the tools I need to help you through this difficult time. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I am so happy that you have Paul in your life and that you are trusting him to be there for you right now. Lean on him as long as you need sweet girl. We are all here for you and always will be. And when you are ready, I know that your little sister would love to be hugged and held and kissed by her big sister. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I love you more than french fries sweet baby girl. And I always will.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<3, mommy</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-3027871104939733792016-08-17T09:41:00.002-04:002016-08-17T09:41:55.794-04:00Sick of Sick.I probably should not be blogging in the mood I am in but so be it.<br />
<br />
I am so so so over Madi being sick ALL the time. I know she is too, poor kid. I need to talk to other mamas who deal with this stuff. Madi is <u>constantly</u> sick. We are at different dr's offices at least twice a month, every month. Oh and these appts aren't quick appts. We spend hours there while they do breathing treatment after breathing treatment even though that's what we do at home. It's a temporary fix so that they feel okay letting her leave. The poor child has been poked so many times. Heck, I even have a stethoscope at the house.<br />
<br />
I feel like there is no light at the end of this very long tunnel. She missed 19 days of school last year due to asthma issues. (Don't get me started on how this affects my job...) We give her the medicine/action plan as prescribed and nothing. She's been on prednisone like 8 times in the past 6 months. I finally said NO MORE! It doesn't work. NOTHING works.<br />
<br />
She does FINALLY have an appt with a pulmonologist in September, but I'm starting to think her issues don't even stem from her lungs. Maybe I should go back to school and be a doctor so I can figure this out on my own...<br />
<br />
Anyway, I just needed to vent and where else is better to do that than on my blog?<br />
<br />
If you have words of wisdom or similar experiences, please share!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-17419404685925754342016-08-15T14:47:00.002-04:002016-08-15T14:47:42.324-04:00Culclasure's Move Again!Anyone remember me???<br />
<br />
Goodness life has been crazy! I bring you this very unexpected blog post to share our past weekend with you. We MOVED! We are still renters, but hope to stay in this house for quite a while...probably until the owners make us leave. :) We really did not want to uproot our lives yet again, but this move was definitely for the best. Paul's commute to work went from 30 minutes to well, 1 minute and mine went from 45 minutes to 15!! And those are both one way!<br />
<br />
So to say we are excited is an understatement. This move means more family time, less money spent on gas, and less stress over-all.<br />
<br />
Here are a few pictures from the weekend. We can't wait to get everything set-up but right now we are just recovering from the task of moving - me at 7.5 months pregnant and Paul using his only day off since June to move.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kjHm2yPkLz7NA0vN-DFuPV3Ci55C2wwCKNqknegx8DkwJ1BnEerCWKNmeuIW9Lz-PKNs2_JJlkhdAt4JyKqslqKJLXkKJAupyoTgwENctZC0p-P2SlvI_d8nzOC-OllK9sfkRRNvk8Y/s1600/IMG_1724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kjHm2yPkLz7NA0vN-DFuPV3Ci55C2wwCKNqknegx8DkwJ1BnEerCWKNmeuIW9Lz-PKNs2_JJlkhdAt4JyKqslqKJLXkKJAupyoTgwENctZC0p-P2SlvI_d8nzOC-OllK9sfkRRNvk8Y/s320/IMG_1724.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Ready to load 'er up!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrziBNL8sAEMML4wagIoskMUxUmZkj_xvN0v5LELo-WbnMfU9tZJ7uLEYryi8YptwFsL11pzJ9YXpjWJ7V2dc-FwKHlmUkUS4RalUXNDvBI23GwOhyphenhyphenx1bBv69mIbx3p4s9k_YOhKYLvM/s1600/IMG_1726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrziBNL8sAEMML4wagIoskMUxUmZkj_xvN0v5LELo-WbnMfU9tZJ7uLEYryi8YptwFsL11pzJ9YXpjWJ7V2dc-FwKHlmUkUS4RalUXNDvBI23GwOhyphenhyphenx1bBv69mIbx3p4s9k_YOhKYLvM/s320/IMG_1726.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
First car load. Whew!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTABgoCHApU5rhy0GHU6pfuB0H59q1f9_dizu_KyyYWc6dxN8Pbjoh5PNNgNEWc2_vAIfOj_2BTda_De28qYUIr52kvFE1fB26XyInW-f-D_wtQQvj6x4DeAwAmnOKMCUZ4zE-T8buiE/s1600/IMG_1729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTABgoCHApU5rhy0GHU6pfuB0H59q1f9_dizu_KyyYWc6dxN8Pbjoh5PNNgNEWc2_vAIfOj_2BTda_De28qYUIr52kvFE1fB26XyInW-f-D_wtQQvj6x4DeAwAmnOKMCUZ4zE-T8buiE/s320/IMG_1729.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Sneak peek of Carson's room</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8uzdxUCFIaivrf1dqONVnVgsZJQ3-bUXroaNOyV72P2Ulb3H_i450FgLqtjq8xEbWSKSZjxnq6cMVdKRLol-fJY-yau3wE8sYNeCoqeoq705GxjqWMXO7D3gUpB-K3tI5lfIhUExLYM/s1600/IMG_1730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8uzdxUCFIaivrf1dqONVnVgsZJQ3-bUXroaNOyV72P2Ulb3H_i450FgLqtjq8xEbWSKSZjxnq6cMVdKRLol-fJY-yau3wE8sYNeCoqeoq705GxjqWMXO7D3gUpB-K3tI5lfIhUExLYM/s320/IMG_1730.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
In love with this kitchen!!!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh459h52RxS4S0c0Z2KlfTZEqy0RhnEMraQVWpSDOT896PlBHnQryL3jtscMBj-HFMhH5JyY43VMrqp7-veEdbaaPQ-WoeIFbsIUlSQtWXPH_01kn86ZcrYNlmE7mRAydnpaZAoRO5J0PA/s1600/IMG_1733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh459h52RxS4S0c0Z2KlfTZEqy0RhnEMraQVWpSDOT896PlBHnQryL3jtscMBj-HFMhH5JyY43VMrqp7-veEdbaaPQ-WoeIFbsIUlSQtWXPH_01kn86ZcrYNlmE7mRAydnpaZAoRO5J0PA/s320/IMG_1733.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Can you spot Madi?? {I packed this load all on my own. Pregnancy doesn't stop me!}</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmouporNvnNgc-bDRC_aYrdzkFRVqhtZJ9Myd45ujyqxFiUVOWhqok-8AmmX9Qbrx0XBKIO4mF7JOwqc5SQ53zzH_mBXT8rjxyTu16RhWq6XbM1x17Z4W8QfVJZgvKYZNLAObpU0UBjI/s1600/IMG_1745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmouporNvnNgc-bDRC_aYrdzkFRVqhtZJ9Myd45ujyqxFiUVOWhqok-8AmmX9Qbrx0XBKIO4mF7JOwqc5SQ53zzH_mBXT8rjxyTu16RhWq6XbM1x17Z4W8QfVJZgvKYZNLAObpU0UBjI/s320/IMG_1745.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
She's a little excited about the big bathtub.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-1IjHesDV0IUMiCafPZs2xdzI2ay18fRH6pKVXcHnygky9JZWEfvZv8WHNaC6jsA3YhqYQCTJY0FJsaaJliR6aSUJ2UCJYblsXxovH4928pW7AeNQpONABgxqTH1yzMhdXNuQqFwayY/s1600/IMG_1749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-1IjHesDV0IUMiCafPZs2xdzI2ay18fRH6pKVXcHnygky9JZWEfvZv8WHNaC6jsA3YhqYQCTJY0FJsaaJliR6aSUJ2UCJYblsXxovH4928pW7AeNQpONABgxqTH1yzMhdXNuQqFwayY/s320/IMG_1749.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
First meal at the new house! </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqIUHWBQ1v6uB0WVkG49viM21usRKFOKih6VrFMovr1xEDewy5O7PvEgyQLMws13T0cflBeLP-4BwLfHeybNmt-E6Dj9raxuSCwt576eoEcwQZIMVjRiQ_Yq8ZpjW6gOLV93n5-KawA28/s1600/IMG_1750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqIUHWBQ1v6uB0WVkG49viM21usRKFOKih6VrFMovr1xEDewy5O7PvEgyQLMws13T0cflBeLP-4BwLfHeybNmt-E6Dj9raxuSCwt576eoEcwQZIMVjRiQ_Yq8ZpjW6gOLV93n5-KawA28/s320/IMG_1750.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
First meal...yes, it's take-out.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-62866225903341178222016-03-23T10:30:00.001-04:002016-06-29T21:07:46.531-04:00Ice, Ice...I have a little announcement to make! Baby talk is coming soon... :)<br />
<div>
<br />
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHO6_fpdTIyxaPUToAu9pFbbuJ8ovEZlnvDFJhSQBbqLG9XLZd5Vl-XxL5RphnJoKSw4XNiQJ7e-a43M0c-8T9lBMO7k96TP0NM9hVIsZW1JcAU_CdvOJZqnKRZR4_WPA4-eM3CNtD8q8/s640/blogger-image--174697866.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHO6_fpdTIyxaPUToAu9pFbbuJ8ovEZlnvDFJhSQBbqLG9XLZd5Vl-XxL5RphnJoKSw4XNiQJ7e-a43M0c-8T9lBMO7k96TP0NM9hVIsZW1JcAU_CdvOJZqnKRZR4_WPA4-eM3CNtD8q8/s400/blogger-image--174697866.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-10844970562897774282016-02-09T16:13:00.003-05:002016-02-09T16:36:23.001-05:00Brunette's BoothI have been up to a little something lately...<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not sure if many of you recall but a few years ago I went to my first calligraphy class. I practiced a bit and then kind of put it to the side. This past summer I picked it back up again and began practices more often. About a month ago I opened my Etsy shop - Brunette's Booth featuring calligraphy prints, wedding invitation addressing, and other custom orders. I just fulfilled my first order and thoroughly enjoyed the process of creating something for a bride-to-be!<br />
<br />
So, if you know some brides-to-be or have an event coming up, please share with them/reach out to me. I would be happy to work with you on creating something special for your event, your home, or whatever it may be that needs a touch of beautiful print.<br />
<br />
You can check out my shop <a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/BrunettesBooth?ref=l2-shopheader-name">here</a> and I've posted a few photos of my work below.<br />
<br />
Happy shopping!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4ur352Nprry2-AqZMCByc0z0fJ_QnTPMXGOFJROJ_mT5K1bfJjscr6S-KGLjv9y74rKIkSaqRyMQK2A5iiaRMdLvuMb6G4o0Ki3yDA2V5NRBm4M2rYWToMGjOFZO8UkFS1cTZ4lpwCc/s1600/placecards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4ur352Nprry2-AqZMCByc0z0fJ_QnTPMXGOFJROJ_mT5K1bfJjscr6S-KGLjv9y74rKIkSaqRyMQK2A5iiaRMdLvuMb6G4o0Ki3yDA2V5NRBm4M2rYWToMGjOFZO8UkFS1cTZ4lpwCc/s320/placecards.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysTIYUal8mdbJ1mWiHi_xS4ZBoAcyq3L3lfedDu0dLEUIuXHrQwgKeEZtCw9orsvmJtc2WK5pSnXpz9Vb8RuxUUHeANMSh1tkgCOaCGpJaZGXMQn9oOED6sVJUWSieU_l2wRo-o61rVE/s1600/strength.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysTIYUal8mdbJ1mWiHi_xS4ZBoAcyq3L3lfedDu0dLEUIuXHrQwgKeEZtCw9orsvmJtc2WK5pSnXpz9Vb8RuxUUHeANMSh1tkgCOaCGpJaZGXMQn9oOED6sVJUWSieU_l2wRo-o61rVE/s320/strength.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529632991650405041noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-46435175069746802082016-01-22T14:30:00.000-05:002016-01-22T14:30:10.170-05:00The Friday Five: 1/22/16<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Work is slow today so I figured I would post a little post. The Friday Five is pretty simple and fun so here you have it:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1. What I'm Reading: </span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I just finished reading Lindsey Stirling's freshly new book, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25330544-the-only-pirate-at-the-party?ac=1&from_search=1">The Only Pirate at the Party</a>. I assume everyone knows who Lindsey Stirling is but if you do not, get on the internet people!! (Disclosure: I had never heard of her until about 2 years ago. Paul told me he wanted to go to her concert. I bought tickets. He has good taste.) Lindsey is <strike>my bff</strike> an electronic violinist which basically means she kicks butt. She dances while playing the violin, well. Her book is about her childhood and experience getting to where she is now. I really learned a lot about who she is as a person and appreciate her music even more after reading the book. She's a down-to-earth person. No, really - she still drives a 2002 Toyota Echo. She's REAL y'all.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMB8y-DYeCsb_cOut8bc5-R26vBn1mDpZJFz02H3x7FUuVNpzFaSf0EjgszHMUfPd9H5DiaYqiXtEFvR0gP59c681h3ufQAVHvwS_hc6-wGLTxIffGLV3EJ1JJFuZnjhYdl9rxQ__i5Vg/s1600/download+%25281%2529.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMB8y-DYeCsb_cOut8bc5-R26vBn1mDpZJFz02H3x7FUuVNpzFaSf0EjgszHMUfPd9H5DiaYqiXtEFvR0gP59c681h3ufQAVHvwS_hc6-wGLTxIffGLV3EJ1JJFuZnjhYdl9rxQ__i5Vg/s1600/download+%25281%2529.jpe" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2. What I'm Eating:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What am I not eating is a better prompt. Currently I'm <strike>un</strike>healthily obsessed with Subway's double chocolate chip cookies. I go into Subway and the deli dude frantically puts his gloves on so he can make me a sandwich. I just keep walking and grab the cookies and he's like wait, what? Yeah. That happened twice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b>
<b>3. What I'm Listening to:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You probably could have guessed this - Lindsey Stirling. It makes excellent concentration music while I eat my cookies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can't figure out the name of the album, but the cover looks like this:</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcL2SeWWTWuerUhCoFhCYlJQZsVnT0LK9Ts2LLrRJLTFP00ErRfoevxADGivwz4us-PKc7kJCNQllK8Bbt0KHwjKFqlYuNgynTkwOKFbiIaaiogvw9nGpp3qoTs-3w6vMnEbSX1l6RNAE/s1600/download.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcL2SeWWTWuerUhCoFhCYlJQZsVnT0LK9Ts2LLrRJLTFP00ErRfoevxADGivwz4us-PKc7kJCNQllK8Bbt0KHwjKFqlYuNgynTkwOKFbiIaaiogvw9nGpp3qoTs-3w6vMnEbSX1l6RNAE/s1600/download.jpe" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I'm driving my 70 mile commute each day, I listen to old NewSpring sermons on the <a href="https://newspring.cc/app">NewSpring app</a>. I have found that I do a much better paying attention to the road when I have something to listen to. I do have a problem getting "bored" while driving so this has helped and I have learned a lot to help my emotional/spiritual state as well. Check it out. (It's free!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4. What I'm Buying:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I love my home state. I just do. But my husband has so gently pointed out that we no longer live in South Carolina. I have decided to embrace this. I purchased a North Carolina Simply Southern garden flag today. I think he will be proud. {But no, I am not removing all my palmetto tree/SC decor that covers our kitchen.}</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJl16Lsinhi4hGGd5PK8qKyfkrQ-qP8VjWt1dzu-38TGmN561SarvtchYe5rTv7YTrMFSFLcwmkVoUyPKuHB81WavyQ24aVFzHS3txktwDgB4Zlor3DAEtrMaQEvv-G4PfjcTBgWNxBDc/s1600/download+%25282%2529.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJl16Lsinhi4hGGd5PK8qKyfkrQ-qP8VjWt1dzu-38TGmN561SarvtchYe5rTv7YTrMFSFLcwmkVoUyPKuHB81WavyQ24aVFzHS3txktwDgB4Zlor3DAEtrMaQEvv-G4PfjcTBgWNxBDc/s1600/download+%25282%2529.jpe" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">5. Memes I'm Loving:</span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjemcN8UMhyphenhyphen8_w2bMAyd5GJC5p1pOr0b8zIgHOzQxAYtar6wqKCw5ok6f9b20rRvLi_FkZYki3_KtC451WjJJapWmIUrpgWcj_HQ6MgzWpefu3qcI_C9lx2_g6pN7gNmwaAD5jZvVfx6HQ/s1600/%2524_3.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjemcN8UMhyphenhyphen8_w2bMAyd5GJC5p1pOr0b8zIgHOzQxAYtar6wqKCw5ok6f9b20rRvLi_FkZYki3_KtC451WjJJapWmIUrpgWcj_HQ6MgzWpefu3qcI_C9lx2_g6pN7gNmwaAD5jZvVfx6HQ/s320/%2524_3.jpe" width="264" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tell me you haven't thought this. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaSwQMMIxT4deqghuWQU7ZKdnXy_BCRXhW7AF87jvkQnbQcexaGY2XBmecKQkSjth7_QMwXQQaA_aXMKrqzw30d84c79jRkWeu8_zNQ3S_ZyuwoMoissalESkW0Mf7u4QSelCjtxqx37c/s1600/0eb6e10297d6fcd506d8fce020c6a09e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaSwQMMIxT4deqghuWQU7ZKdnXy_BCRXhW7AF87jvkQnbQcexaGY2XBmecKQkSjth7_QMwXQQaA_aXMKrqzw30d84c79jRkWeu8_zNQ3S_ZyuwoMoissalESkW0Mf7u4QSelCjtxqx37c/s320/0eb6e10297d6fcd506d8fce020c6a09e.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I work in Insurance so... </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but really.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqBiLJdZEuF22S3KxGhBYktaqoUadGviCLACjyNc0mhp1FA1IJZBuS9YQPOr0WpcLt1U3HRWXj1X4zsZF8nCRZdMiIEkuDs1Bcjbb14xKSyq7PpX56Gy5-KChLCs7L1Ond8TJbXdeVHM/s1600/9371ffc5bfa8f956f366beef7845feb8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqBiLJdZEuF22S3KxGhBYktaqoUadGviCLACjyNc0mhp1FA1IJZBuS9YQPOr0WpcLt1U3HRWXj1X4zsZF8nCRZdMiIEkuDs1Bcjbb14xKSyq7PpX56Gy5-KChLCs7L1Ond8TJbXdeVHM/s1600/9371ffc5bfa8f956f366beef7845feb8.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Grumpy Cat is the only cat I like.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">HAPPY FRIDAY!! Stay safe if you're getting hit with this crazy winter storm.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-47012949224202394282016-01-21T16:54:00.002-05:002016-01-21T16:54:37.902-05:00Skiing is for AthletesI'm 32 years old (wait, 33? no, 32. Idk...) and I can really only recall two "most embarrassing" moments in my life. I mean I have a horrible, terrible, no-good memory so I doubt two is an accurate number of embarrassing moments in my lifetime but it's all I can recall.<br />
<br />
It's been about <i>{sidenote - I just stopped to calculate my age. Yes, on a calculator. I'm not 32, or 33. I'm 31. Oh dang.} </i>16 years since the most vivid embarrassing moment and I still cringe when I see pictures of ski slopes/skis/snow in the form of a slope/etc.<br />
<br />
My friend Brandon posted a picture on Facebook this week of his daughter and him skiing. Of course my first reaction was I'm so sorry. To that I had to follow-up with "I'm not a grinch. I just had a horrible experience skiing and I can't imagine that anyone actually enjoys such a chore."<br />
<br />
So, I'm here to share this embarrassing experience with you because that's what embarrassments are for, right? To share. Yes.<br />
<br />
I was 15 years old, give or take and I signed up for the church youth group ski trip. I had never been skiing before because I just didn't come from that kind of family. Our version of a family vacation was going to Charleston for a weekend twice a year. Heeyyyy Holiday Inn!<br />
<br />
Fifteen year olds are just odd, aren't they? So strange. I was going on this ski trip with teenagers from my gigantic church (equals tons of teenagers on trip) and in the whole group I had no friends. Why I wanted to go on this trip, I have no idea. I still remember the uncomfortable bus ride and the awkwardness of trying to fit in glances I threw in any normal looking girls' direction, because talking to get to know someone was just weird. Keep in mind these were kids that I went to Sunday School with every week, Wednesday night youth group, and summer beach trips for years. I was just a very socially awkward teenager and didn't make friends easily. I had a lot of acquaintances, I guess.<br />
<br />
So anyway, that's important for this story because you need to get the full picture. Awkward 15 year old me, trying to keep up with the "cool" kids and make them be my friend while going skiing for the first time. Skiing is not glamorous y'all. I envy the girls who get out there and don't look like a giant marshmallow flying down a hill. How do you do it?!! Anyway. I followed a group of girls around and eventually graduated from the kiddie slope. Yes, I did that. Moving on - I took the ski lift up (I'm a real skier now! Look out! No, really...) to the bunny slope. I was more nervous about getting OFF the ski lift than actually going down the hill but I digress.<br />
<br />
I made it down the hill with only a few tumbles. Wait. I don't know - I don't remember that part. I just remember the good part so for the sake of the story, let's pretend it's true. After going down the slope like a good 'ol first time skier I went back up for more.<br />
<br />
Hold up - Important detail I forgot to mention. The snow was fake. It wasn't snowing. There was a bottom layer of real snow but the majority of it was fake snow from a snow machine.<br />
<br />
Hold released - Picture me, a little more confident this time (with going down the slope; NOT getting off the ski lift). I was at the top of the slope with other people but somehow they zoomed on down before me and got back in line for the lift. So I push off, marshmallow fluff for arms and all, and glide down that bunny slope like I own it. I'm getting close to the bottom and trying to make that dang pizza slice. WHO CAME UP WITH THAT ANYWAY??? I'm at the bottom of the slope now and hey I see my <strike>friends</strike> girls who tolerate me (G.W.T.M.) and oh crap, the freaking pizza slices crossed over each other. This isn't going to end well. I slammed into one of the G.W.T.M. Skis flew, marshmallow fluff flew, G.W.T.M. yelled some not so nice words, and there we landed smack in a huge puddle of mud. I tried to get up as fast as possible but I guess all skis didn't fly because I had one still on and you know, trying to get up with two skis on is tough, but one? Even tougher. I got up and then fell right back down again - and yep, I pulled G.W.T.M. back down with me. Her friends, yeah she had those, helped her up. The mud and I had some more bonding time and when I finally got up I didn't even stick around to see how girl who no longer tolerates me (G.W.N.L.T.M.) was doing, out of complete mortification, naturally. You think the embarrassment is over now right? Wrong.<br />
<br />
Here I am, now this huge <strike>chocolate</strike> mud-covered (COVERED) marshmallow girl, all alone with tears streaming down my face. I still had to find the stupid ski because they are rentals and I certainly didn't have hundreds of dollars to pay for those. If I did have that kind of money I would have absolutely ditched that other ski, but alas, I'm the girl whose family vacations at the Holiday Inn. Found my ski. Took the devil-sticks off and had to parade myself through the ski lodge to the bathroom. This ski lodge was packed y'all. I'm talking every teenager in America was here. No snow but still, every youth group was at Winter Place in West Virginia. I eventually made it to the bathroom where I attempted to wipe off my mud covered jacket/bibs/face/hair all while avoiding eye contact with anyone who walked in the bathroom. Once I was somewhat less of a hazard to the janitorial staff I planted myself in a corner of the ski lodge near greasy food and there I stayed for the remainder of the trip. Oh didn't I mention, this was the first day of the 4-day trip. Money well spent, parents. You should have gotten me ski lessons when I was two like the rest of upper-class America. Who am I kidding? I have the coordination of a drunk insertclumsyanimalhere.<br />
<br />
Well there you have it. My #1 most embarrassing <strike>moment</strike> hours. Skiing is like a four-letter word to me. I cringe when I hear it and feel sorry for you when you say it. Ooooo. That's a good analogy. Is that an analogy? Whatever. Skiing is for athletes, or people with friends who will pick you up out of the mud.<br />
<br />
Oh and snap. I think I'm "friends" with some of those girls on Facebook now. I can't remember who I crashed into but if it was you, I do apologize. I have refrained from skiing as to never cause such tragedy to another victim. You are welcome.<br />
<br />
<br />A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329891034986705929.post-79231699020883921852016-01-10T19:32:00.001-05:002016-01-10T20:37:29.823-05:00Sister Talk SundayAny of my longtime followers should recall Toddler Talk Tuesday's, but in case you're new around here I'll tell you about it. {Oh, and I realize it's Sunday.} Toddler Talk Tuesday's are for posts about silly, funny, crazy, unusual things your children {or anyone's children} have said. I haven't posted quotes from my kids in forever but we had quite a few clever ones this weekend so it's coming back. They aren't toddlers and it's not Tuesday so if you're type A, I apologize.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixCC9zA0zJoG0q7Z9FodLz6JFbLMo_XcrLghZ9zUkafgv4THZmBlmMBEKkRT8iqFshotrTSsi35PE_q05Ck0UI2mVaei6j2O3uevI_gJznn7_5FIhV4rc4twQqpn5Jkl-a28xKnvEqQg8/s640/blogger-image-1881607397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixCC9zA0zJoG0q7Z9FodLz6JFbLMo_XcrLghZ9zUkafgv4THZmBlmMBEKkRT8iqFshotrTSsi35PE_q05Ck0UI2mVaei6j2O3uevI_gJznn7_5FIhV4rc4twQqpn5Jkl-a28xKnvEqQg8/s640/blogger-image-1881607397.jpg"></a></div><div><br></div><div>Paul's sister is expecting a baby boy. We were on the way to her baby shower on Saturday. I explained to Addison that it was a girls only shower. She said, "so I guess that means the baby is a girl!" </div><div><br></div><div>The girls were eating dinner at Nana's picnic style in the living room. Addi kept doing flips and had been told not to do it. She finally landed in her pizza, and Paul called her over to talk to him. He said the expected, "that's why we told you not to do flips." She came back with, "but I just wanted to be upside down." Lip quivering and all. 🙂 I don't know how but he kept a straight face. Meanwhile we were all laughing as quietly as possible. </div><div><br></div><div>Today at lunch some of us got ice cream sundaes. Someone said something about needing a sundae. Pop said no one NEEDS a sundae. Madi said as quick as a whip, " yes they do. I need a day off." Good one! </div><div><br></div><div>And lastly, we were listening to music in the car and Addi goes, "I think my bones are about to dance!" ☺️ </div><div><br></div><div>Hope these put a smile on your face! </div></div>A Babbling Brunettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06195220452833336198noreply@blogger.com0