tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348988292024-03-07T02:01:59.020-05:00BedArrestBedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-53349746748668691932010-05-10T15:10:00.002-04:002010-05-10T15:24:10.932-04:00Happy Mother's Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigK1N_2xeTuaGy8_T-ofVavau79HqIo2g4Nixp6Y2RDAcVqW6sa1Qfldhs7Ou8CEd4rsjqJGaha3yp21McS0UHrRRBjOkvs4smBBdrQKHoszck38pBbW3CbSMYwegS1Af5p-55/s1600/Mother's+Day+2010.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469720898036678946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigK1N_2xeTuaGy8_T-ofVavau79HqIo2g4Nixp6Y2RDAcVqW6sa1Qfldhs7Ou8CEd4rsjqJGaha3yp21McS0UHrRRBjOkvs4smBBdrQKHoszck38pBbW3CbSMYwegS1Af5p-55/s320/Mother's+Day+2010.JPG" /></a><br /><div>"It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge." - Phyllis Diller</div><div> </div><div>Above, a brief moment of abundance, conformity and peace on my 4th Mother's Day.</div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-9318698995634613852010-04-14T14:40:00.005-04:002010-04-14T15:06:41.315-04:00Built In Best Friend<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1S-wVN6wVr7mtj5vtsm6eyFjN50kqOo-bpqwWfsZLS8dab6s1t_3LKp2SjyT9ruEtpCpZaFC1r434sjDmHgj0wqtqPT7b0cJ4kEZwBk7njZAoSXeBuY066UN05LynDpcD-iUb/s1600/008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460071238404391730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1S-wVN6wVr7mtj5vtsm6eyFjN50kqOo-bpqwWfsZLS8dab6s1t_3LKp2SjyT9ruEtpCpZaFC1r434sjDmHgj0wqtqPT7b0cJ4kEZwBk7njZAoSXeBuY066UN05LynDpcD-iUb/s320/008.JPG" /></a><br /><div>When people ask me, as they often do, "do they play nice together?" I can honestly reply with a yes. Sure, there are times when one wants the same toy as the other and a bit of a tug-of-war ensues. But, for the most part our days are spent pretty peacefully. It's usually 2 (them) against 1 (me) in most of our battles.</div><br /><div>They really are each other's best friend, even at the tender age of 3. It makes me so happy to see how they take care of one another and look out for each other. Jillian is the mother hen for sure. Today, as I was dropping my grandmother off from a shopping excursion, Max began to cry because Mammam Dora left the car before he could say good-bye. "Don't cry, honey," Jillian said trying to soothe him. A few weeks ago, in an effort to get Max to clean up his toys, my dad threatened Max by "taking" one of his toys and pretending to give it to another boy. Jillian chased my dad down saying, "Pappap, that's Max's toy. Give it back to him."</div><br /><div>Max is Jillian's chivalrous protector. He does nice things for her like waiting until she gets in the Monster Truck Jeep before driving away. (I tell her, it's safer to be in the car with him then out in the open with him driving around!) On the playground, he watches out for her to be sure she's safe. And soon, we'll start teaching Max what to do when a boy wants Jillian's phone number. Let's just say Mark has him watching UFC nightly (I kid, but it's coming!).</div><br /><div>Joking aside, I feel so lucky to have these twins when I listen to their conversations about nothing - they really do get each other; when I see them play together and share; when they walk around holding hands; when they play "you be the mommy and I'll be the daddy"; when they settle in for the night, resting their head on each other's shoulder. </div><br /><div>Today I talked to someone who has 16 year old boy/girl twins. She reassured me, saying it gets easier after 3. But most importantly, she told me how her twins are still best friends. I pray every night that they do remain as close as they are now for their lifetime. And, how lucky they are to get to live their lives with a built in best friend!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-33594922948887281722010-04-13T16:40:00.002-04:002010-04-13T16:51:32.447-04:00A Day Without Mommy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAWZGNgZt81KWBf_wTraOtTPX9lpWG9xEwMbxB90pv8pog0JK-DJqiv_6vUFWzRL4RVCTJK7pVdZi_5Q5nwUwEDzo3MnPO93xNsQrowP7L2DdAb81hrbJXabCiaa4UGJ0Ko1tn/s1600/024.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459727475630692930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAWZGNgZt81KWBf_wTraOtTPX9lpWG9xEwMbxB90pv8pog0JK-DJqiv_6vUFWzRL4RVCTJK7pVdZi_5Q5nwUwEDzo3MnPO93xNsQrowP7L2DdAb81hrbJXabCiaa4UGJ0Ko1tn/s320/024.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0sgUy6IkeoewitmbzA52nUm6gvBpmoDlbRP2x5I3ZzKZNatbIBeeiZoWBzjty9i9Ukz5dAecRYX_-HgA-QENRCR8_vVy_AfQ52N0-mzvs5gx4ssM_aKFBfhFmo_XiavHcV8tT/s1600/029.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459727469191682098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0sgUy6IkeoewitmbzA52nUm6gvBpmoDlbRP2x5I3ZzKZNatbIBeeiZoWBzjty9i9Ukz5dAecRYX_-HgA-QENRCR8_vVy_AfQ52N0-mzvs5gx4ssM_aKFBfhFmo_XiavHcV8tT/s320/029.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbjp9C5O7kAE4uyKIpH3ccgwUKw1ZEptiH5ugEdFIUU_eR5iszF4Q5n9-h6PZcQq7rveej4YjwqkHnheoUZYmDtCFE-lc0jN7UN23Tw2_re6apNGgzH5hxlTrVeHfOP1YTYgT/s1600/020.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459727464138829298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbjp9C5O7kAE4uyKIpH3ccgwUKw1ZEptiH5ugEdFIUU_eR5iszF4Q5n9-h6PZcQq7rveej4YjwqkHnheoUZYmDtCFE-lc0jN7UN23Tw2_re6apNGgzH5hxlTrVeHfOP1YTYgT/s320/020.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>This past Saturday, I spent the day in NYC. I was up and out the door before the kiddos woke, and was home much past their bedtime. A day in their life that I missed. </div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>But, luckily for me, daddy took many pictures of their adventures without Mommy. Clyde Peeling's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Reptileland</span> and fishing - two activities I would kindly bow out of, even if I was home.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Mark said they behaved like angels (of course they did, I wasn't there!) and he enjoyed his time alone with the kids. Besides, from his retelling of their day, I think he got special "single dad" treatment at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Reptileland</span>. </div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Here are some of the pictures I came home to - a great retelling of a day without me!</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-40057171015438872252010-04-05T21:56:00.003-04:002010-04-05T21:59:27.995-04:00Art<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGh0HKGDojKQ4NmOuNk3NLWQKlJRfWVhlBd5LZ78HGUgIeTqcCNyBdaSYonwuS7Uz0fRrxGci7D6H1hSkVTlo3czOtlWTYnpjJRSsFWQ_tufUBhzRfvYJVc5xs1wGLyEwbzO3n/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456838223636527522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGh0HKGDojKQ4NmOuNk3NLWQKlJRfWVhlBd5LZ78HGUgIeTqcCNyBdaSYonwuS7Uz0fRrxGci7D6H1hSkVTlo3czOtlWTYnpjJRSsFWQ_tufUBhzRfvYJVc5xs1wGLyEwbzO3n/s320/002.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLY4dChOGM23w21Lem8bkS8iv9TaJrJ7dmUpj691Y8Pq40-UVyrbb3OXtvdKPVOn2R0-gWWy511Nab1_Q-0mASRfIInI36bCl5J5wiwAhyLcw8Panh7S3TQbRdDaL_ZSgBQkLQ/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456838218543759602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLY4dChOGM23w21Lem8bkS8iv9TaJrJ7dmUpj691Y8Pq40-UVyrbb3OXtvdKPVOn2R0-gWWy511Nab1_Q-0mASRfIInI36bCl5J5wiwAhyLcw8Panh7S3TQbRdDaL_ZSgBQkLQ/s320/001.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>A portrait, of her brother, by the artist currently known as Jillie.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-70499644697444133312010-04-05T21:37:00.003-04:002010-04-05T21:55:59.949-04:00Happy Easter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ESDSt01MKrogxkVStNfh7lY5IVQe08XFDF3_knXZAjkCMDy3AFqAx251ileuIuQKBythZ9oC2-nWElHdWZYaiymydrnfCl43HFqy_Ib4-VEv8_4j2JxsoBrVRpv8Dv0iEo5e/s1600/035.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456837282390038210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ESDSt01MKrogxkVStNfh7lY5IVQe08XFDF3_knXZAjkCMDy3AFqAx251ileuIuQKBythZ9oC2-nWElHdWZYaiymydrnfCl43HFqy_Ib4-VEv8_4j2JxsoBrVRpv8Dv0iEo5e/s320/035.JPG" /></a><br /><div>A post by the kids:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Our Easter was fun.</div><br /><div>We got lots of candy. (3 overflowing baskets worth.)</div><br /><div>And toys. (too many to count.)</div><br /><div>And bathing suits. (4 total.)</div><br /><div>And bikes. (4 total.)</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>From the mommy:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Lucky, lucky kids.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I had to reorganize the toy closet to fit all the new toys. And I can't wait to have a yard sale to get rid of everything they don't play with...I just need a free weekend. We have something going on every weekend from now until June! But I'd take busy weekends with friends and family over boring ones any day. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This weekend, Nicole, Emma and I are heading to NYC to do some sight-seeing, shopping and to see Wicked. I can't wait to visit my old stomping grounds, but I'm especially excited to see Wicked. I've been listening to the soundtrack for months now and have heard amazing things about the show. I hope it lives up to all the hype!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Next weekend, Emma receives her First Holy Communion. It's hard to believe Miss Emma is in 2nd grade and receiving this sacrament already. I can't wait to see her in her beautiful dress and veil. I get a little choked up just thinking about it. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And, we've got birthday parties galore to attend in the following weeks. Creative, fun ones too! A baking party! Lake Tobias! Skating! Whew! I'm exhausted just thinking about them all.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And we can't forget the opening of Knoebels. The park opens in just 19 days (yes, we have a countdown for that as well). We're so fortunate to live just minutes away from the park. I'm looking forward to spending some evenings there enjoying watching the kids enjoy the rides...oh, who am I kidding? I can't wait for all the good food!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-35876903575449886402010-04-03T09:12:00.005-04:002010-04-03T09:44:11.191-04:00Cousins and Traditions<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwaCaM6kTAocgHZ1xDxfYWr6b-jTVvAmN7mfB0WwttPMrC8H8Q9gdwW5CVxfkf_KKw6ZLzJAacaElrb5K2lIJCSyqHAdlyihGYCvhbImiInYTO7nC8l5fkDOQ3yZPlzQDhiEds/s1600/020.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455904302284757394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwaCaM6kTAocgHZ1xDxfYWr6b-jTVvAmN7mfB0WwttPMrC8H8Q9gdwW5CVxfkf_KKw6ZLzJAacaElrb5K2lIJCSyqHAdlyihGYCvhbImiInYTO7nC8l5fkDOQ3yZPlzQDhiEds/s320/020.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwzWxGUioIIApvu5g8nhs-bpZocCNwv_TboXSFgiV3oi1O5jKQ1jliqEApEOHgDoGUFcZ5RGYV7ahxocxEDfcGxsOBq9s4AUPrI0pmPOZa2C61iE9fFwxWyVHf4soJ_SaN5PWy/s1600/010.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455903733716190578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwzWxGUioIIApvu5g8nhs-bpZocCNwv_TboXSFgiV3oi1O5jKQ1jliqEApEOHgDoGUFcZ5RGYV7ahxocxEDfcGxsOBq9s4AUPrI0pmPOZa2C61iE9fFwxWyVHf4soJ_SaN5PWy/s320/010.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKFQtrMmlb7SYItRsx6etLxF9xpXl-IqjgSQTJWXjSIwNyKWu8tJK7UOrYkUGw3mYwd_68lM0fh-j-4-R3nX6Vzi7XgnVmx649YBcw2Dsff708vpX9krdIFX_0hHZkjypPnbg/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455903726273036210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKFQtrMmlb7SYItRsx6etLxF9xpXl-IqjgSQTJWXjSIwNyKWu8tJK7UOrYkUGw3mYwd_68lM0fh-j-4-R3nX6Vzi7XgnVmx649YBcw2Dsff708vpX9krdIFX_0hHZkjypPnbg/s320/006.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBwhiExAh6F0zL4YyWGlBRiDgXyEwMktmWDxbR5wSnkyqfqPua7j4OC_oBkORtzTEvE7hotP5n6njY4zrRS4cWrUOTk7U-6E4T3zPwSqPW5tOW5IAlBjmt40b4398MYDrJYKzA/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455903719358336258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBwhiExAh6F0zL4YyWGlBRiDgXyEwMktmWDxbR5wSnkyqfqPua7j4OC_oBkORtzTEvE7hotP5n6njY4zrRS4cWrUOTk7U-6E4T3zPwSqPW5tOW5IAlBjmt40b4398MYDrJYKzA/s320/004.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjILeHva1lEDdgWec3B0TiIBbAhIYEW0xJqzk5DXgd0SVy9qfSTA4MJrLAHg0Vi2-5eCD-J21Gnjr_w8POcL8SbaIZr3z8C3geBfZbkxfQVYYKUWl8-4UZXEluOG9CSu3I5dr/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455903713954929890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjILeHva1lEDdgWec3B0TiIBbAhIYEW0xJqzk5DXgd0SVy9qfSTA4MJrLAHg0Vi2-5eCD-J21Gnjr_w8POcL8SbaIZr3z8C3geBfZbkxfQVYYKUWl8-4UZXEluOG9CSu3I5dr/s320/003.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqHc45PelOJa-XuU2GhtZcJivwmcdhfxogMLpKeL-O_4IxSWVbkQ_tYnk0Nmn4C2mhi2KeKwNYXAAooDKNTXHkeCFBK3xINaqvrIV5shYHexIYvfrzZLayduUE7ZoImybpK52/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455903710485645346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqHc45PelOJa-XuU2GhtZcJivwmcdhfxogMLpKeL-O_4IxSWVbkQ_tYnk0Nmn4C2mhi2KeKwNYXAAooDKNTXHkeCFBK3xINaqvrIV5shYHexIYvfrzZLayduUE7ZoImybpK52/s320/002.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qllfLbUIpgWHc9zeJCmVql5DkBcDPoHmgXknQb1IaJAD1AP8uE5gpZrLqKFz7W2hxjFv0W6EYsbY5sV5R1PpM8typBzg2VKcyw8s7k9O5YXDC-rFxBqb4JIUE4H2TmTznIHQ/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455901917109396258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qllfLbUIpgWHc9zeJCmVql5DkBcDPoHmgXknQb1IaJAD1AP8uE5gpZrLqKFz7W2hxjFv0W6EYsbY5sV5R1PpM8typBzg2VKcyw8s7k9O5YXDC-rFxBqb4JIUE4H2TmTznIHQ/s320/001.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Jillian and Max are very lucky to be growing up just a few minutes away from their cousins. The proximity allows us to do lots of fun things together fairly regularly. Our Good Friday tradition has been to color eggs and this year was no different. (The only difference being we got to enjoy the beautiful weather by coloring eggs outside this year - when was the last time we could do that?)</div><div></div><br /><div>The kids have so much fun playing together. Jillian and Max really idolize Emma and Ava and they both really adore Colton. It is so sweet to see Jillian especially play "mommy" with Colton. She is so loving.</div><div></div><br /><div>It's also been neat to see how much the kids can do by themselves this year versus last year. Emma and Ava have a huge playset in their yard that, in the past, had my heart racing and my arms ready for a catch every time Jillian or Max attempted to climb it. This year, they climbed with ease, and I relaxed on the deck, enjoying the banter of kids having fun in the spring sunshine. </div><br /><div></div><div>Later in the evening, Uncle Nate had to help daddy with a few projects, so Emma and Ava came back over for another visit. Max and Jillian had fun showing off their new swings (no more baby swings!) and driving their big cousins around in their "Monster Truck Jeep". </div><div></div><br /><div>If our fun Friday was any indication of how our summer will be this year, we're in for a great time!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-18600516631323715452010-03-31T19:37:00.002-04:002010-03-31T20:46:28.315-04:00...and she was swingin'<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdidHb8oCSkwTt7DKaqRVBkp0ZwgM_xF7ppcHoLPLWd8EVzpupyS3VVwKDiqs4etJg-Qrx8o63JEunOQePB-ZbohVMMMvGMozMZxvfRn24JngHpfuVG3VFU5Juv_vHmj5V58rp/s1600/047.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454947499914001778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdidHb8oCSkwTt7DKaqRVBkp0ZwgM_xF7ppcHoLPLWd8EVzpupyS3VVwKDiqs4etJg-Qrx8o63JEunOQePB-ZbohVMMMvGMozMZxvfRn24JngHpfuVG3VFU5Juv_vHmj5V58rp/s320/047.JPG" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>The beauty of this girl amazes me.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>How'd I get so lucky?</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-43280588353458587072010-03-29T13:31:00.004-04:002010-03-31T17:46:43.327-04:00More on Raising a Redneck<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWOGHTY2K-seB1OccMxnQCQI_bobN9H43pX2WYP9RckD6aMFovbHQ4n69YeHB3fALXCV2KIOmnprfOeQm-6uPJRtFyCFoqbmHIBArXdTwOoRVqUIFfjQzoCSHt_zE7WmM4N8UY/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454917392858838402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWOGHTY2K-seB1OccMxnQCQI_bobN9H43pX2WYP9RckD6aMFovbHQ4n69YeHB3fALXCV2KIOmnprfOeQm-6uPJRtFyCFoqbmHIBArXdTwOoRVqUIFfjQzoCSHt_zE7WmM4N8UY/s320/002.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB73txGFKzOcTY9gToC7CxdFnXTA-G9eDRKb9uH5HRS06cZpBYeGQmPUQ8DAaugb6b4Wi98pjlzEYbgscLVEkZuPXuyyMkb0v1zlo7dK7f331wjF_bL6hUMN1MU6kxYrBC1uGN/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454916640526412658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB73txGFKzOcTY9gToC7CxdFnXTA-G9eDRKb9uH5HRS06cZpBYeGQmPUQ8DAaugb6b4Wi98pjlzEYbgscLVEkZuPXuyyMkb0v1zlo7dK7f331wjF_bL6hUMN1MU6kxYrBC1uGN/s320/001.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>Life with Max surely is never dull. Since we've had some really nice days weather-wise, we've spent a lot of time playing outside. One of their Christmas presents was a Monster-traction Jeep. I'm sure I don't have to describe how happy this vehicle makes Max. However, not only does he think this truck is a monster truck, he thinks he is Randy Brown, one of Gravedigger's driver.<br /><br />Max does a great job at steering the vehicle...right into and onto people and things! He crashed (on purpose) into his slide and ran over his sister (sadly, on purpose, too). After both crashes I said, "Max are you okay? You can't do that!". His response, "It's okay, Mom. I'm Randy Brown."<br /><br />I wish I had pictures or video of his latest attempt, but Mark and I were too busy laughing our butts off to grab a camera. He had another one of his ride on toys out in the yard and proceeded to ride his Jeep right on top of the other car - just like the monster trucks do. While he was literally teetering in the air, I screamed, "Max are you okay?" He fist-pumped, yelled "YES! I'm Randy Brown!".<br /><br />It's a good thing we have lots of land around the house. I think we'll give Max the yard to play in while the rest of us wait safely on the deck.</div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-12015698533591488082010-03-29T13:11:00.007-04:002010-03-31T17:57:54.360-04:00Easter Fun<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNibLeYF7t5aajA0ZiVCEN57sK5XH0QSYhiMsN4nsc_glZpjM5-fEBRCIIghErReBvz0RP9xSgU7-QNoQgtuN3TBlv9Dad9MhW4jiQQXDUPDL_URtl4IhTwFcVVbsea1sUdGVD/s1600/025.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454920525380981058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNibLeYF7t5aajA0ZiVCEN57sK5XH0QSYhiMsN4nsc_glZpjM5-fEBRCIIghErReBvz0RP9xSgU7-QNoQgtuN3TBlv9Dad9MhW4jiQQXDUPDL_URtl4IhTwFcVVbsea1sUdGVD/s320/025.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJ7_tSbzRfsw37js3aJGzjkCWsrmc2K7JkmwPx6fz3Gyw-2t8iISXqoB_6KLqaq4YFAo8gEWIQGL3kR6KlRLvqEmnfoo_UgNNLJD-qeWrVWCA1dnKKSxcv8c6yGMjsoQGMcLn/s1600/020.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454920009712240818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJ7_tSbzRfsw37js3aJGzjkCWsrmc2K7JkmwPx6fz3Gyw-2t8iISXqoB_6KLqaq4YFAo8gEWIQGL3kR6KlRLvqEmnfoo_UgNNLJD-qeWrVWCA1dnKKSxcv8c6yGMjsoQGMcLn/s320/020.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc-bat_5-AE__hHFIxG9EL7i4YgTCyviqppoHyWWn-emS8maIgLMGPF8iWBuFGMKDclYnK3S4wHcHA_Iv71i2OKDJDngR6xCNjB0y4ypdt_ETz4KIqOQEBcXMAEpRIEtjcLu0v/s1600/016.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454919998654296482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc-bat_5-AE__hHFIxG9EL7i4YgTCyviqppoHyWWn-emS8maIgLMGPF8iWBuFGMKDclYnK3S4wHcHA_Iv71i2OKDJDngR6xCNjB0y4ypdt_ETz4KIqOQEBcXMAEpRIEtjcLu0v/s320/016.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgDeuCQXn_uGCi_MxU5PYCep4ZaGayus-8xhZ64IqSW1w-84itWbzbkU1uEhosjukh79CXpi3mn0LTAj68vXAJEoOraPOK0Mm8LtwXF8S2IAKjKjUy1tK5TffNNs0QP9Qx8JA/s1600/015.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454919990639614882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgDeuCQXn_uGCi_MxU5PYCep4ZaGayus-8xhZ64IqSW1w-84itWbzbkU1uEhosjukh79CXpi3mn0LTAj68vXAJEoOraPOK0Mm8LtwXF8S2IAKjKjUy1tK5TffNNs0QP9Qx8JA/s320/015.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhsoFDzt_R6qWyltBm2MVEjaY6C6M9leVELTBzCiUcACNliaKgB5Cd_F6VoMzzP4Y1CNFUzdW1uoifsN8cgVFbXoOmkdywX_I97tjK_x9qgLR7uD3pMXTBBiR7EyCTxJTQSjA/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454918220275773218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhsoFDzt_R6qWyltBm2MVEjaY6C6M9leVELTBzCiUcACNliaKgB5Cd_F6VoMzzP4Y1CNFUzdW1uoifsN8cgVFbXoOmkdywX_I97tjK_x9qgLR7uD3pMXTBBiR7EyCTxJTQSjA/s320/006.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>It's the biggest day in Max and Jillian's life since Christmas and their birthday! With Easter quickly approaching, our house is abuzz with anticipation. To kick off Easter week, we spent the weekend doing fun Easter events. On Saturday morning, we headed out to a local Easter Egg Hunt. The twins collected lots of goodies, plus had their face painted, decorated a cupcake and colored eggs. On Sunday, our church held both an Easter Egg Hunt as well as an Easter Basket Auction for kids. The 1-4 year old section was packed, but they did well in collecting more Easter treats. They also cleaned up at the auction; they won four baskets total! This morning, we made our Easter countdown chart. Just six more days until the big furry bunny visits!<br /><br />It's funny thinking back to last Easter. We decided that the Easter bunny would be taking their binkies in exchange for their Easter baskets. What in the world were we thinking? The kids were miserable (and as a result so were mommy and daddy) last Easter. They didn't sleep well since they didn't have their binkies and had a hard time without them the next day. I guess we have lots to make up for this year as we celebrate this Easter season.</div></div></div></div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-90158738218559925522010-03-01T13:09:00.004-05:002010-03-01T13:49:45.748-05:00Raising a Redneck<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhal33QaWHHnWyMEEEhG8KUrZHts7_TT9GxP05lA21wL24E4rOzTAX5ILdI-dC-_bKzKEe10BRKiVvIBic91BlsD1q71StADS6z6iQMAyWLlSbGLJF-Ga1dJGpWxNnaYIdkuSd9/s1600-h/130.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443737340420236338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhal33QaWHHnWyMEEEhG8KUrZHts7_TT9GxP05lA21wL24E4rOzTAX5ILdI-dC-_bKzKEe10BRKiVvIBic91BlsD1q71StADS6z6iQMAyWLlSbGLJF-Ga1dJGpWxNnaYIdkuSd9/s320/130.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXcPvSZUN_4ydRyeyJAnVq_tnxVXKPwhCUvwbBdQtKIxJdIkdnwTwjDsH239pQMqUBafE5try8ELycNR3gLzm7XqVYQMe9-Kc2rPr8HTBmze_mEOf0VwdAno4cdm0BoVMY9Gu/s1600-h/084.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443737333838173378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXcPvSZUN_4ydRyeyJAnVq_tnxVXKPwhCUvwbBdQtKIxJdIkdnwTwjDsH239pQMqUBafE5try8ELycNR3gLzm7XqVYQMe9-Kc2rPr8HTBmze_mEOf0VwdAno4cdm0BoVMY9Gu/s320/084.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVkvozP1dfsq0bx9O49UdHEDpM6YBsXPnJsPl3XRIGrVolWiK1DzUIBpyhpMg6dxxw-BcGpnY0jjSVyiY8Hz8e9RiwXQkMwwGpjh_NPCLQ7LcB8RV4PNTt3qezlN-RXmccMKwK/s1600-h/075.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443737324130987122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVkvozP1dfsq0bx9O49UdHEDpM6YBsXPnJsPl3XRIGrVolWiK1DzUIBpyhpMg6dxxw-BcGpnY0jjSVyiY8Hz8e9RiwXQkMwwGpjh_NPCLQ7LcB8RV4PNTt3qezlN-RXmccMKwK/s320/075.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-48OO90kUXWlLgqyiQIJ1pC3i4gSnY7gj-AjlH5RnDFBQmZgheWB78NmulNh75zWHmswkz09FymnDE0jptaI0cSD3ZFaSDhxl4l1gepdNroMd6xjZ2NYkozF5hbSMb9xy_egZ/s1600-h/052.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443737320730595570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-48OO90kUXWlLgqyiQIJ1pC3i4gSnY7gj-AjlH5RnDFBQmZgheWB78NmulNh75zWHmswkz09FymnDE0jptaI0cSD3ZFaSDhxl4l1gepdNroMd6xjZ2NYkozF5hbSMb9xy_egZ/s320/052.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Last weekend, Mark and I surprised Max with a trip to see Monster Jam. We told him the week before that we were taking him on a special trip - just the three of us - while Jillie spent the day with my parents. </div><div></div><br /><div>For anyone who has spent even a few minutes with Max, his love of all things monster trucks is pretty clear. This kid lives for Gravedigger, Blue Thunder, Maximum Destruction, Avenger...really, the list is at least 30 trucks long. So, when we heard that Monster Jam was coming to the Wilkes-Barre area, we had to get our tickets. We were lucky enough to score tickets for "Party in the Pits", a pre-show opportunity to get up close and personal with the trucks and the drivers themselves. </div><br /><div></div><div>To my surprise, the event was a pretty wholesome, family friendly event. I was worried it would be a drunk fest, but really there were very few people there without a kid in tow. We stood in line for a chance to see Gravedigger and meet the driver, Randy Brown. He signed a hat, pennant and a truck for Max and took a picture with us. (Max's sweaty fingers erased the autograph on the truck on the way home...but Max still asks to play with the "Gravedigger that the driver colored on".) And while I wasn't exactly expecting diva behavior from a monster truck driver, I did imagine these guys to be more "tough guys" than the "teddy bears" they really are. Not only did they meet with loads of people before the show, there was an announcement made that they would stay and sign autographs after the show until "every last autograph is signed". Try and find that at a Mariah Carey concert.</div><div></div><br /><div>Max, who is clearly turning into our little redneck, had an absolute blast at the show. It was pretty loud for his little ears, but smart planning by daddy had him pretty well protected. It's been over a week now, and he still hasn't stopped talking about all the trucks he saw...and the jumps...and the wheelies...</div><br /><div></div><div>So, Redneck Max's love for the big loud trucks is going strong...I'm just hoping he doesn't ask for a mullet anytime soon.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-67184287915448642932010-02-11T08:17:00.005-05:002010-02-11T08:45:14.934-05:00My Blown CoverAs record snowfalls hit our area yesterday, Mark was lucky enough to have the day off. It's very rare that we all spend an entire day in our house together, as weekends are usually spent rushing around somewhere. Besides having another adult in the house for company, I was hoping that Mark would get a little taste of my day.<br /><br />More often than not, my day goes somewhat like this:<br /><br />"Mommy, I want orange juice."<br />"Mommy, get me chocolate milk."<br />"Mommy, I have to pee."<br />"Mommy, I have to poop."<br />"Mommy, get me my monster trucks."<br />"Mommy, I want to play downstairs."<br />"Mommy, I want to play upstairs."<br />"Mommy, mommy, mommy."<br />*cry, cry, cry*<br />*whine, whine, whine*<br /><br />And that's all in the first five minutes of waking up.<br /><br />And then he wonders why I'm exhausted and crabby when he gets home from work.<br /><br />Game on, buddy. Now you get to spend a day in the life.<br /><br />I don't know if the kids were hypnotized into real life snow angels by the falling flakes, but they certainly didn't live up to their Mamma's barbarian hype yesterday.<br /><br />From the moment they woke up, they played so nicely and independently. No fighting, crying, whining. They shared. They spoke nicely to each other. They painted the dining room. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But they were little angels. They even took a 3 hour long nap. I had to wake them for supper.<br /><br />"Wow, you have it tough here." Mark said, around 5PM, as we lazily laid around watching trash TV for a second hour.<br /><br />"Really, it's nothing like this. Trust me." I pleaded.<br /><br />"Yeah, yeah, yeah."<br /><br />Way to go, guys. Thanks for blowing my "you-don't-know-how-hard-it-is-all-day" cover. Couldn't you have saved your angelic performance for a day when it's just Mommy?<br /><br />Oooohhh, gotta run. Jillian's calling for her dolls and Max just took all the stuffing out of a pillow.BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-67407335239975584702010-02-04T14:17:00.007-05:002010-02-04T14:36:20.093-05:00Absence makes the heart grow fonder...and the house a whole lot cleanerToday I was lucky enough to have a day to myself, courtesy of my in-laws. I dropped the kids off at 9AM and as I sit here nearly 6 hours later, I'm exhausted from my whirlwind day.<br /><br />Instead of jetting off to the spa or to the mall, I spent the day cleaning. It was much easier to clean without two little ones at my feet, or to stop to referee every 15 minutes, or to examine the loud bang in the next room. However, I miss the little buggers. Maybe I subconsciously planned this day to see how the three of us would do without each other for a day, in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">anticipation</span> of my inevitable return to work. I called my mother-in-law three times today and each time she revealed what fun they were having. Meanwhile, I'm covered in dust-bunnies and have a scar from a battle with a non-cooperating tension rod.<br /><br />Life at home with the kids is bizarre. There are so many days when I wish I could get a break from them, but now that I have the time apart from them, I want them here. There have been so many days when I wonder what it would be like if I worked away from the home full time, but I have to keep on telling myself that this situation is fleeting. But, for now, I'm thankful for an abbreviated break from the kiddos, but look forward to seeing their smiling faces in just a few short minutes. I think we'll all appreciate each other just a wee bit more today!BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-28671319683640274822010-01-15T21:11:00.004-05:002010-03-01T13:47:12.279-05:00Pierced!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMR64JWOM-i8JfS34J9hJq2eKfInGQEPWmUb8i4P-XJk2s0Twu-xrm6nd6TVzFUWBCg_NGm7E3xU5TtA_uC-PEioc_OH_YHAxmA1-aKM8AJDlILPrayT2xMs39550BfjluTNb/s1600-h/ears+pierced!+002.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427159393525887282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMR64JWOM-i8JfS34J9hJq2eKfInGQEPWmUb8i4P-XJk2s0Twu-xrm6nd6TVzFUWBCg_NGm7E3xU5TtA_uC-PEioc_OH_YHAxmA1-aKM8AJDlILPrayT2xMs39550BfjluTNb/s320/ears+pierced!+002.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-bcxyt-DwM-QCo3NcDOVH8t5thHAxwK0K6WtXnrmFOp1xqLdWkvEuzzULyTflWk6yDJZmp7X-U6DGXc7MOHX4psbi3P9mAqly-mEnKqoMe1R6acLVmks4CUBRFKwt7hiSUct/s1600-h/ears+pierced!+001.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427159385589910338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-bcxyt-DwM-QCo3NcDOVH8t5thHAxwK0K6WtXnrmFOp1xqLdWkvEuzzULyTflWk6yDJZmp7X-U6DGXc7MOHX4psbi3P9mAqly-mEnKqoMe1R6acLVmks4CUBRFKwt7hiSUct/s320/ears+pierced!+001.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>After months of gentle prodding by Jillian, and more than a few times of my backing out, Jillian finally got her ears pierced tonight.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>She had been asking for this for at least a year. I told her when she was potty-trained we would get them done for her. She became potty-trained and I still wasn't ready, so I told her when she was three she could have them done. Since her third birthday has come and gone, and she still seemed more than eager for earrings, we decided tonight was the night. She, along with her big cousin Ava, made the trek to the mall for the big event.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Both girls did absolutely great. Neither one of them cried, or flinched even. And, they did each ear individually instead of both at the same time. She's so proud of herself and I'm proud of her too! </div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>*******</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>I'm always chuckling at the things Max and Jillian say. It seems like they always have some sort of story to tell. The best part is that they love doling out compliments and I, of course, am always willing to take them - especially if they come from these two. Tonight, Jillian and I were cuddling in bed. She started stroking my eyebrows. She said: "Your eyebrows. They are so beautiful on you." Adorable, right? "They look just like Pappap's". Thanks a lot, kid. Needless to say, I'm going to find a place to get them waxed first thing in the morning!</div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-69485546666709814892010-01-12T14:56:00.005-05:002010-01-13T09:44:27.662-05:00A letter to little tikes CEO, my hero<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwLih583N3bkRj9LwCrhBC536O51JvIqYdKGaSOWPjK6S155m3ZBGPtNTz_9uXcvNr3S-ihJIudYCw0zm1uydatVphMT9SYT1K94IiI4BEWG2W-UIl-Hi64RrQu2xLfvVX4RxE/s1600-h/016.JPG"></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC03jtQkgtx6UJzJHEBkB7K_GwOx8KYhN6_yrrckAfvxfO0hOWY9i1G-YMk8ScYs4Y2sSQiZ8lVwpXEX6RiNDD8x8lXTVjAWgyOYA3xFtKBDZhcU9BLWYzPsSGwu93dDJlhv55/s1600-h/009.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQe4hvXbP8oQoy57qW7A3ydxj4hrarKagKI_HnhVsY0GsCz_mW3kOImsav59_aXDsL0337jVAu0rYVK_RWHQw60JqvRdSD4MOnTs0R71GHOCgAyBBs0F0Owl38eKKIn76oJFVd/s1600-h/008.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5asLqr7S1GYCzi030oowy8CvUMGwGf42mTJt6m65YVG2FbZUk2PX9oGpAblv5xoyue29zWwiSn7W3m3hh9dofWQd1zQj_Cgpp4vRJrbdlta7PpciUmSxyuOVbVR8cdJiyNvAw/s1600-h/005.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425952929309338898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5asLqr7S1GYCzi030oowy8CvUMGwGf42mTJt6m65YVG2FbZUk2PX9oGpAblv5xoyue29zWwiSn7W3m3hh9dofWQd1zQj_Cgpp4vRJrbdlta7PpciUmSxyuOVbVR8cdJiyNvAw/s320/005.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiditc8Gu-a7CL9a0g7_cKRDgTjVbZZL9JIXnu0s0KdGZD8Bg09qgMIYtgZ6CVOatTYEuP29DVISZIZfEXecDqkcBtI_P7ZV9puKtsgjJNlCtw6bAMQFmnqSbQ8JcEvrTxXAZu/s1600-h/001.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Dear little tikes CEO,</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Thank you for inventing the little tikes bounce house. In just one day alone, you have brought peace to our family. No other toy has entered our house thus far and kept the attention of our twins for THREE WHOLE HOURS! Sure, the hum of the fan continually blowing air to keep the bounce house bounceable is mildly mind-numbing and my living room looks like Knoebels, but it's a price I'll gladly pay to avoid being the Gravedigger monster truck for the 7,943th time. Or to reenact the ending to Cinderella for the 9,241th time. As I write this letter, our twins are slumbering as they are completely exhausted from a morning of bouncing. I'm excited about the possibilities the bounce house will bring to our happy home. Maybe they can bounce while I read a book. Paint my nails. Make a quiche. Talk on the phone. Paint the downstairs. Okay, maybe I am getting a bit carried away, but I just love the brilliance of our own bounce house.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Keep up the good work,</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Jenn K.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Seriously, what a fabulous idea we had for Max and Jillian's 3rd birthday present. While a bit enormous in size, this bounce house is an incredible occupier! While we have it set up in the house for their birthday today, it'll be great for spring and summer outside activities (and just test me to see if I won't keep it in the house just a wee bit longer).</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Besides bouncing the day away, we did make time for our Kindermusik class this morning, where we shared birthday cupcakes with their classmates. Tonight, we'll have a little celebration with Mammam and Pappap, Grammy and Poppop, Auntie and Uncle Nate, Emma, Ava and Colton. Jillie is already asking if she can hold Colton and sing "Up on the Housetop" to him. Hopefully, her birthday wish will be granted.</div></div></div></div></div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-71377783690500880732010-01-11T14:40:00.003-05:002010-01-11T21:40:57.611-05:00We're back....<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEI8-8kez44qt712jq03gTGsXKDiH3yZsvIisXB9Wsfxzk_yFcMMAv-YiJMKoyBnvj0AZ8Tpkhi-raW_fN-H_xJh6AXhcgEV7xz0MmU7pJr5QX0QWKTa0z7M8qDxBz-DmBazu1/s1600-h/141.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425677756509053682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEI8-8kez44qt712jq03gTGsXKDiH3yZsvIisXB9Wsfxzk_yFcMMAv-YiJMKoyBnvj0AZ8Tpkhi-raW_fN-H_xJh6AXhcgEV7xz0MmU7pJr5QX0QWKTa0z7M8qDxBz-DmBazu1/s320/141.JPG" /></a><br /><div>...wow! Three amazing years have gone by since I've added anything to this blog. But I've decided to resurrect it; I'm not a scrapbooker and feel a bit guilty that I don't have anything like a scrapbook to show the kids as they get older (the thousands of pictures I've taken and stored in albums and boxes do count for something, right?). But as I was preparing today for Jillian and Max's 3rd birthday tomorrow, I thought that now is as good a time as any to start bedarrest up again. The name of the blog "bedarrest" might not have relevance right now - though a mandated day to stay in bed and do nothing is certainly welcomed in my book! I hope this blog becomes a fun way to document our days and our milestones as the twins go from being toddlers to preschoolers.</div>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1168984397470781162007-01-16T16:37:00.000-05:002007-01-26T17:46:24.556-05:00The Arrival<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3257/3873/1600/49832/P1000250.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3257/3873/320/423239/P1000250.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Jillian Elisabeth and Maxwell Mark made their entrance into the world on Friday night, January 12th. What follows is the best of my recollection of their arrival.<br /><br />January 11th; 6AM --- we were scheduled to call into L&D to make sure they had a bed ready for us to come in for our induction. After a pretty restful night's sleep, we made the call. Unfortunately we were told to call back at 830AM to find out what time we should come in. Already dressed, showered, hair fixed and make-up applied (I figured I should look nice for the pictures later that day), I fell back to sleep for another hour or so until we called back in. They told us to come in at 1130AM to start the induction. I was a little dismayed at the time because I figured that the induction could take a few hours until it actually started working and I was worried I would miss the 1/11 birthdate.<br /><br />January 11th; 1130AM --- we arrived at the hospital and entered our room. I immediately became overwhelmed as they already had the baby warmer in our room waiting for us --- it was labeled Baby A and I started to cry just at the thought of what's to come. In a few minutes I was checked to see how far along I was and to determine what type of medication they'd give me to start the induction process. Knowing that I was a fingertip dialated nearly 3 weeks ago, I was hoping that I'd at least be 3 cm dialated. Unfortunately, our first report should have been an indication of things to come --- I was still only a fingertip dialated. At this point we learned that the induction could take until Saturday! Never in my wildest dreams did I think the process would take that long.<br /><br />January 11th; 130PM --- I was finally started on an IV of pitocin, a drug given to stimulate contractions. I immediately had a great reaction to the pitocin and started producing beautiful, consistent, strong (and I'll admit, not that painful of contractions). Throughout the day, the dosage was increased to help bring on the strong contractions that ultimately end up giving one the urge to push. I watched the clock all day and all night knowing that as the seconds ticked away, my chance for another reason why "11" is such a great number greatly fading away.<br /><br />January 12th; 2AM --- I was checked again and learned that I was 3 cm dialated! Finally, some major progress. Just before 2AM I was given some pain medicine through my IV (not the epidural just yet). The pain medicine worked wonders, but the doctor who came in to tell me I was 3 cm dialated asked what I wanted her to do to get the ball rolling. Completely knocked out from the pain medicine, I told her that all I wanted was 2 McDonald's cheeseburgers. Unfortunately, she said it wasn't possible and she left my room, I think somewhat disappointed because she wouldn't have the opportunity to deliver the twins.<br /><br />January 12th; 8AM --- 4 cm dialated. More progress! I spent the next several hours in various positions sucking on freeze pops and ice chips. Mostly I spent the day on a birthing ball rocking back and forth with the hopes of more dialation. Throughout the day, we watched and listened to our babies' heartbeats on the monitors. The thumping sounds were so relaxing to us; while all the other soon-to-be mothers (and fathers) had their televisions on, blasting throughout the ward, I couldn't even consider drowning out their heartbeats with the sounds of some lame talkshow. My contractions throughout the day were described by the medical staff as "perfect" and "textbook". They were off the charts (literally - the chart paper didn't register as high as they were); surely these perfect contractions would lead to some good dialation.<br /><br />January 12th; 430PM --- they decided to break my water. After being checked another time and registering still at 4cm, the breaking of the water was meant to bring on heavier labor. I told them I wanted to have the epidural ready so that the second my water broke, I could have the epidural. My water - or as Mark likes to call it, Niagra Falls - was broken and within 5 minutes there was a team of anesthesiologists in my room having me sign consent papers, explaining the epidural process and then ultimately sticking the needle in my back. A slight pinch later, and the epidural was in and I was confined to my bed for the rest of the night.<br /><br />January 12th; 8PM --- the attending physician visits my room with a short statement. "We're going to check you in 2 hours and if you're not any further dialated we're going to do a c-section." With that, my bed began to shake as my nerves overtook my body; I immediately got so scared after I heard those words. The entire 30 some hours I spent in the hospital in labor, I can honestly say I never thought about it ending in a c-section. True, throughout my pregnancy I always said I'd be okay with a c-section and at times even considered just asking for one. But the entire time I went through labor, I still felt I'd have them naturally. For some reason, after his statement and the initial shakes wore off, I fell asleep. I awoke at 9:30PM and said to the nurse: "Get the doctors in here to check me because if we're not any further along I want to have this c-section now. I don't want to wait any longer." Within the 1/2 hour, I was checked and learned I was no further. Five minutes later, a new team of anesthesiologists entered the room to give me the numbing medicine. I was prepped for surgery. Mark was whisked out of the room to get dressed for the surgery, but not before he ran downstairs to the waiting room to tell our family and friends what was happening.<br /><br />January 12th; sometime after 10PM --- I'm wheeled into the OR. "Remain calm. Don't freak out." I told myself over and over again. The room was full of doctors and nurses. (We think there were about 16 in total). After they hurled me onto the table and everyone got in place, Mark was ushered in. I remember telling the doctors to make sure someone was in place to watch Mark because I wasn't sure he'd be able to handle being there without passing out. Mark held my hand and an extra doctor took our camera out of Mark's hands to take pictures.<br /><br />A few minutes later, I could feel the tugging and the pulling and the pressure. It's such a weird sensation because I could feel everything they were doing, I just couldn't feel pain.<br /><br />I remember the first baby being pulled from me and moments later hearing her scream. A minute later, the second was born and a sharp cry escaped from his lungs. My emotions flooded the room. I was happy, relieved, scared, overjoyed. You name it; I felt it at that instant.<br /><br />"How big are they?" I kept on asking. It felt like an eternity afterwards until they gave us their weights --- Jillian weighed 7 pounds 10 ounces; Max weighed 7 pounds 7 ounces (we later learned from some of the old nurses on the L&D floor that they were the largest twins born there in 26 years).<br /><br />The NICU doctors and nurses spent some time with them; Mark heard the doctor say, "I don't need to see these babies." What a relief. After months of praying that our babies would spend minimal time away from us in the NICU, our prayers were answered. They wouldn't be spending anytime in the NICU at all. After I was put back together (I don't even want to know what they had to do; I've asked Mark not to tell me what he saw), I, along with my precious babies, was wheeled back to my room to recuperate for an hour. After the hour passed, our family and friends were allowed to meet the babes.<br /><br />So, now it's been two weeks since Jillian and Max made their way into this world. I'm so amazed by them that I could spend hours just staring at them. It's unbelievable to me that these creatures are here, and they're mine. They are so healthy. They eat well, they sleep well. They are alert and happy. They poop and they pee; I change a lot of diapers and I clean a lot of bottles. I don't wear makeup and I live in sweats. I don't fix my hair and I haven't left the house in 2 weeks. I sleep in 3 hour increments. This was exactly what I was waiting for. Life couldn't be better.BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1168302785962734732007-01-08T17:28:00.000-05:002007-01-08T19:33:06.156-05:00ReflectionsAs I enter my last 3 days of pregnancy, I find myself replaying these last 9 months over and over in my mind. At times it feels like the time went so fast; other times these months (always counted as weeks in pregnancy) seemed to have dragged on.<br /><br />But it amazes me how clearly and specifically I remember things --- like dates, emotions, feelings, words said.<br /><br />May 17th (early evening) - I took a home pregnancy test; it immediately came up positive. I, in turn, immediately called Mark on his way home from work. We were excited; but cautious. I had an appointment set for May 22nd for bloodwork to confirm I was pregnant.<br /><br />May 20th and 21st - We went to a friend's wedding on Long Island. She knew I was trying and knew that any day now I would know if I was pregnant. "Well, do you know anything yet?" she asked at her own wedding. Mark shot me a glance, but I wasn't ready yet. "No, not yet." Later, he said "you should have told her." But I wasn't ready yet. I wanted the bloodwork to confirm.<br /><br />May 22nd - I had my blood drawn in the morning and in the afternoon I got a dreaded call. Not from the doctor's office, but from Mark's partner at work. When I picked up the phone and heard his voice on the other line, my heart dropped. This was the call I was hoping I would never receive; I was convinced he was calling to tell me Mark was shot. "Mark's at the hospital," he said. "But don't worry; he just dislocated his shoulder." Relief. I left work immediately to embark on the 2-hour drive to the hospital. On the way, I got a call from my doctor's office confirming a positive on a pregnancy test. "Your numbers look great. Your first HCG is 848. We'll need you back in 2 days to confirm that the numbers continue to go up." That was my first clue that this pregnancy was bound to be different. First HCGs are usually around 200 or so. At that moment, I immediately wondered if there was more than one baby growing inside of me. I made it to the hospital; Mark was completely drugged up. He threw up in my new BMW on the way home he was so sick. "Oh, by the way, I heard from the doctor today and I'm definitely pregnant."<br /><br />That week, despite what we had originally planned, we decided to tell my parents, mainly because with Mark's shoulder being dislocated and my pregnancy, I would need their help to do things like cut the grass, etc. They were excited, but cautious as well.<br /><br />Two more appointments by the end of May confirmed this was a viable pregnancy; my numbers continued to rise as they should.<br /><br />June 5th - We had our first ultrasound scheduled. We knew it was early and there was a chance that we'd be too early to see anything. Worse yet, we also knew that we could get bad news at this appointment. We barely spoke to each other on the trip to the doctor's. Neither one of us wanted to jinx the appointment with words of joy or excitement.<br /><br />I remember the look on the doctor's face as she worked the ultrasound wand. "There's the two sacs," she said. I thought for a second she meant the yolk sac (how the early embryo gets nourishment) and the gestational sac. But she had a smirk on her face. "What do you mean 'two sacs'. Do you mean twins?" "Yes, there's twins in there," she said.<br /><br />Mark, who was standing, somehow made it to a chair in the exam room. The look on his face was a combination of excitement and dread.<br /><br />I don't know what kind of code they have in that doctor's office, but the second we emerged from the exam room, everyone started congratulating us -- the nurses, the lab tech, the receptionist. How'd they all find out so quickly?<br /><br />We scheduled two more ultrasounds just to keep an eye on the pregnancy.<br /><br />I called my mom on our way out of the parking lot. "How'd it go?" she asked, again very cautiously. "We got good news. In fact, we got doubly good news." She got it right away. "Twins!" she screamed. I told her I would call my dad to let him know of the results.<br /><br />I told him the same thing. "What's the doubly good news?" he asked. Not as quick as my mom. "Twins!" I exclaimed. "Get out of here!" he said.<br /><br />The drive back was equally as quiet as the way down. We were both so happy with the news, but still deep down knew that it was too early to get too excited. After all, we knew the complications - vanishing twin syndrome (where one twin just "vanishes" early in pregnancy); premature labor - Mark's cousins delivered twin girls fairly early as did our friends. We knew the heartache they endured having to leave their babies in the NICU because they were born too soon.<br /><br />Future ultrasounds revealed that we had the "best" type of twin pregnancy --- they were both in different sacs, which besides meaning they wouldn't be identical, it also meant they wouldn't be sharing food or blood sources, so complications would be kept to a minimum.<br /><br />At our ultrasound on June 19th, the technician cleared us for telling others, saying that the twins were developing right on target and that there was a 95% chance that the pregnancy would continue to be viable.<br /><br />Over the course of the summer, we told more family and friends. I went "official" at work in early July. Earlier than I had originally wanted to, but my regular clothes weren't fitting. I knew I had to start wearing maternity clothes so I went public.<br /><br />The pregnancy continued to be pretty uneventful throughout the summer. (The only time I threw-up was after a meeting with some co-workers in Philadelphia that summer. It was a warm day and I was feeling nauseous from the start-stop of the vehicle - darn Philly traffic - and asked to stop at a rest stop. The combination of already being slightly nauseated and the smell of the rest room caused my one and only "sickness" of the pregnancy).<br /><br />In early August, right around my 16th week of pregnancy, my sister and I took my two nieces to Sesame Place. Two miles from the entrance of the park, we were involved in a minor fender-bender. I immediately worried about the health of the babies. I didn't hit my stomach at all, but I was worried about the jerk of hitting the vehicle in front of us. I had a terrible time at the park the entire day worrying about the babies. Luckily, I had an appointment the next day and it was immediately confirmed that everything was okay.<br /><br />That same appointment, we found out what we were having. Up until this point, everyone was asking what we wanted. I always responded with "I don't care." In fact, I didn't and I was glad it was the one decision I wouldn't have to make along the way.<br /><br />The ultrasound tech said to us, "okay, if I can tell what the babies are, do you want to know?" "Yes," we said. She put the wand on my stomach and almost immediately she said, "Baby A is a girl." I was so shocked. I mean I knew it was a 50/50 shot that Baby A would be a girl, but that it was announced so quickly and with no drumroll or fanfare was a little disappointing to me. Immediately, I started crying but also started praying. "Please God, let Baby B be a boy for Mark." Let me preface this by saying, I truly believe Mark will be a great father to a girl - he's got two nieces that he adores - but something inside of me thought Mark should have a boy.<br /><br />After a few minutes of probing around, the tech announced, "Baby B is a boy!" I was so overwhelmed I began crying even more. I probably would have had the same reaction had she announced two girls or two boys, but I thought life couldn't get more perfect.<br /><br />This appointment was also the time we first met with the high risk specialist; since we were having twins we were immediately classified as high risk. It was at this appointment that we learned I'd be put on precautionary bedrest starting at week 24. The shock of it all - knowing the sexes and knowing how life would change for both of us once I went on bedrest was overwhelming.<br /><br />We stopped at my mom's job (she works minutes from our hospital) to share the good news. Early on, she had said she hoped it was one of each. I called my dad and Mark's mom to share the news. On the way home, I blackberried everyone I knew.<br /><br />And then, we prepared. We shopped for cribs, for furniture, for bedding; we registered; we agreed on names; we went out to dinner with friends and "dated" each other for the next 8 weeks, knowing that bedrest would limit our social life and once I emerged from bedrest, we'd be changed forever. We'd be parents. We would be responsible for two lives. We'd be a family. No more Saturdays or Sundays sleeping in. No more worrying just about ourselves. No more shopping sprees or weekend getaways on the spur of the moment. Our nieces would have cousins to play with. Mark's parents would finally become grandparents; my own parents would have 2 more to add to their collection.<br /><br />And now we wait. The bedrest worked. It's intent was to limit my activity so that the chance of premature labor would be kept to a minimum. Now considered term, I'm anxiously awaiting the signs that labor is coming.<br /><br />If you've read this far, thank you. Thank you for caring enough about me and for Mark and for our two little Buddahs growing inside me. The next time I write will be to share the birth story of Maxwell Mark and Jillian Elisabeth. Wish me easy labor vibes resulting in two healthy babies.BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1167575678931464152006-12-31T09:03:00.000-05:002006-12-31T09:34:38.946-05:00Jazz-alicious<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3257/3873/1600/701514/jazzalicious%20jenn.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3257/3873/320/688024/jazzalicious%20jenn.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p>Look out, world. Jennie's got a Jazzy. There I am at my first trip to the grocery store since October. </p><p>Feeling quite stir crazy on such a beautiful December day, I took my mom up on the offer to go grocery shopping. I told her I felt like I should walk the aisles, as doing so may help to bring on labor. Unfortunately she insisted I use the Jazzy. And so I did. (Please note, that I did scan the place first to make sure there wasn't an elderly person in need of the Jazzy more so than I.)</p><p>After a few minutes of practice, I was rolling down the Weis' aisles like no one's business, swerving in and out of end displays, beeping the horn when an obstacle presented itself. It was a fun hour out of the house, plus two of Weis' famous "Helping Hands" helped us load our car. I think it was my outfit and my tree trunk legs (as is evidenced above) that attracted them to me. I still got it at 70+ lbs heavier.</p><p>Oh yeah, that's right. I've gained 70 lbs so far. My goal was to keep it at 50 lbs total...and up until three weeks ago I had only gained 38 lbs, so I felt my goal of 50 was totally attainable. So, at our last appointment on December 26th, imagine my utter shock and dismay when I stepped on the scale and it read 32 lbs higher than when I weighed in just three weeks earlier on December 5th.</p><p>"That's impossible," I said to the nurse. "That's more than 30 lbs since the last time I was here."</p><p>"Well, get off and try it again," she suggested.</p><p>I did and sure enough the same reading came out on the scale. </p><p>We went back to the examination room where Mark was waiting for us. </p><p>"How'd you do?" he asked. I should preface this by saying that before every appointment we make a bet on my weight. He usually guesses I'm like 10 lbs heavier than what I weigh in at and I've always been right on the money. This time, however, his guess was lower than what I had anticipated...but both of us had never expected this number.</p><p>Poor Mark. When he heard that number, I can only guess what went through his mind. <em>What happened to the 118 lb girl I used to pick up with one arm and carry around on my shoulder? </em>She's long gone, Markie. Long gone.</p><p>Anyway, the nurse took one look at my swollen tree trunk legs and gave me some hope that the number wasn't a true reflection of weight gain, but rather water weight. Because I am no longer able to sleep on my side (see past posts on labor and delivery trips) and am now sleeping upright, my uterus (which by the weigh is measuring 52 ; for a "normal" pregnancy, it should only be measuring about 36) is stopping the circulation. So as a result, my legs - from my thighs down to my toes - are swollen about 3 times their normal size. There's no harm to the babies they explained, it's just discomfort for me (yeah, no kidding). </p><p>With all that complaining aside, we do only have 11 days (OR LESS) left until we meet the babes. While I'll admit I was secretly hoping for an '06 baby, I'm excited about knowing they'll most likely be here on the 11th. Just praying for a painless labor and delivery and that they'll both be born healthy and Buddah-like.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1166825605924176452006-12-22T16:33:00.000-05:002006-12-22T17:13:25.946-05:001/11/11 - you're invitedYou're invited to the twins' 4th birthday party to be held on 1/11/11. (A friend pointed out several months ago that if I went on the 11th, their fourth birthday would be on the alliterated date of 1/11/11).<br /><br />We had our doctors' appointment today. Today was the day that we would "make some decisions" as the doc put it 3 weeks ago. And the decision was made for our twins' birthday - anyone knowing me well enough knows my love of the number 11 and since we were given a choice of dates three weeks away I just had to pick it.<br /><br />Why the love of the number 11?<br /><br />Simple.<br /><br />I was born on the 11th.<br />Mark proposed to me on the 11th.<br />I had my bridal shower on the 11th.<br />We were married on the 11th.<br />Good things generally happen to me on the 11th. <br />So, we might as well have babies on the 11th.<br /><br />Beyond the love of the number 11, I have a thing for numbers divisible by 3. Few people know my obsessiveness among looking at numbers and figuring out if they're divisible by three (I try to keep some neuroses to myself). And, 1/11/2007 is certainly divisible by 3. If you're interested, I learned in the 8th grade that the quick way to figure out if a number is divisible by 3 is to add all the numbers together and if that number is divisible by 3, then the whole number is divisible by three. Sounds confusing when I write it out, but trust me...I've read thousands of license plates during my 8 year commute to my job 50 miles away and its a great way to keep busy. Try it for yourself: 1+1+1+2+0+0+7 = 12. 12 divided by 3 = 4! (I do this with any number I see - a digital readout of time, a paystub, my weight, a grocery store receipt...really any number that I've seen since the 8th grade).<br /><br />Enough of the math lesson and onto the babes.<br /><br />We had our last ultrasound today. We don't have to go back to the high risk doctor ever again. If we went into labor now, things would be fine, and they wouldn't do anything to stop it. (However, just in case I don't go on my own, they wanted to give me the induction date before I got too far).<br /><br />Jillian weighs 6 lbs 3 ounces; Max weighs 5 lbs 14 ounces. That's huge for twins. Most twins born don't weigh that much. And, they're growing at a rate of 1/2 pound a week, so there's a good chance that if I wait until the induction date, I'll be delivering 8 lb babies. (Okay, so I said I wouldn't do any more math, but that's 16 lbs of babies, plus the weight of the placentas - 3 lbs total - amniotic fluid - an additional 4 lbs, that's a lot of extra weight to be carrying around!)<br /><br />We've had so many ultrasounds throughout this pregnancy, that I don't even get nervous anymore that they're going to tell us something is wrong. Of course, early on, I was worried they wouldn't find a heartbeat, or that they'd be able to detect a marker for Down's or other birth defects. But since all other ultrasounds have been good, it's just a good time for me to sit back and relax and watch the babies.<br /><br />Mark, on the other hand, still drives the technicians nuts. He's constantly asking them questions: Does his head look normal size? Does her leg look normal? Is his stomach the right size? I, on the other hand, had the technician look for hair on the Buddahs today. (You may remember from an earlier post that Mark expressed his desire for bald babies; I asserted my desire for babies with full locks). She said they have some hair; not an overabundance, but there's still time to grow more. Mark was appalled that I would even consider asking such a thing during an appointment. Heck, a mom has to know if she needs to stock up on cute barrettes, right?BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1165881413035343572006-12-11T18:35:00.000-05:002006-12-11T18:56:53.046-05:00My Day LaborersSix days into my semi-paralysis ordeal and I've landed myself my own personal day laborers. They come in early in the morning, ask what needs to be done during the day, grab my walker when I need it, prepare my meals, and then they leave when it's dark. And they work for cheap. <br /><br />My day laborers are my family and close friends since at this point I am still unable to be home alone. My mom spent Sunday here and out of the deal I got:<br /><br />a beef roast<br />a pork roast<br />mashed potatoes<br />7 dozen pizzelles (a yummy Italian cookie-type treat)<br />chicken breasts<br />ravioli<br />meatballs<br />rigatoni<br /> <em>for those of you wondering, I did not eat all of this in one day; this represents our meals for the week</em><br />all laundry completed<br />my hair washed<br />a ride in my wheelchair around the 'grove (it was 50 degrees on Sunday after all)<br /><br /><br />Today, Mark's mom and aunt spent the day. Their day duty included:<br />cleaning the downstairs bathroom<br />cleaning out the refrigerator<br />dusting the entire house<br />cleaning the upstairs bathroom<br />fetching me Quiznos, potato chips and chocolate covered pretzels<br /><br />My friend Tammy offered to come down later in the week to help me. I'm hoping she doesn't read this blog before she comes down; she'll surely back out once she sees what's expected of her (just kidding, Tammy).<br /><br />My only worry now is how do I repay these Day Laborers of mine? Hopefully they'll take the payment in the form of cuddling with cute, healthy Buddah Babies.BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1165711480348520442006-12-09T18:10:00.000-05:002006-12-11T08:37:12.923-05:00Not One - But TWO - Trips to Labor and Delivery (Warning: May Contain TMI)I was worried I wouldn't get the chance to meet the doctors who would deliver the twins since the policy at my hospital is whoever is attending that day or night will deliver. My chances are good now that I have already met the doctor who will deliver Max and Jillian since I have now met 5 new doctors in 2 days due to my emergency trips to Labor and Delivery.<br /><br />It all started late Tuesday after my big day out at my doctors' appointments. After I got home, I felt a little - well, sore - but thought nothing of it and attributed to actually being out and walking around. I took a nice, warm bath and hoped that the aches would subside in the morning.<br /><br />They really didn't and I was pretty uncomfortable all day Wednesday. At about 530PM, right before Mark was due home, I got up from my bed to go to the bathroom. I couldn't make it. No, I didn't pee myself...I literally couldn't make my legs move to walk to the bathroom. I knew something just wasn't right. I called Mark and asked him to get home as soon as possible; I called my sister to see if she had similar symptoms during either of her pregnancies (yes, she had said - it was difficult to walk towards the end); I called labor and delivery to see if this was "normal" (yes, they said, take two extra strength tylenol and get a good maternity support belt).<br /><br />Mark got home and saw my condition. He agreed that even though it was considered normal by those who heard my symptoms over the phone, that something just wasn't right. He helped me to "shimmy" to the bathroom...literally had to swish my feet to get to the bathroom; still could not lift them up to move them. After about 3 hours of major pain, another phone call to labor and delivery, and a phone call to my own personal l&d nurse (one of my oldest friends who, up until a year or so ago was an l&d nurse where I'm delivering), I decided to go in. (To put into perspective how bad the pain was, I missed the entire 2nd episode of the new King of Queens while I tried to get to the bathroom from the bedroom again for another pee break. We were smarter that time around and used our desk chair to wheel me from the bedroom to the bathroom). We started getting ready to leave at 9:30PM. We didn't make it into the car until 10:15PM; it took 45 minutes for me to walk down the stairs and out the door, that's how difficult each step was.<br /><br />So, we make it to the hospital and up to L&D by about 10:45PM; they put us into an exam room - which consists of a regular exam table (guys reading this probably don't know what I mean, but ladies know that it's not the most comfortable of beds --- especially for someone who's already in a lot of pain). They hooked me up to the monitors - one for each baby's heartbeat and then another TOCO machine to measure contractions.<br /><br />Hearing the steady heartbeats was a relief; we knew that the babies were fine. In fact, they were so active that they kept on coming off the monitors.<br /><br />About an hour later, another preg-o and her entourage entered the same exam room; she was having contractions and was definitely in pre-term labor (and, didn't make a sound...for having contractions, I would have thought there would have been some moaning and groaning...there sure was plenty from my side of the room).<br /><br />Next the fun part...they decided to do several "exams" on me --- to see if I was dilated; to see if I was in pre-term labor; to see if labor was imminent. Let's just say there's no really delicate way to do these procedures and soon I was yelping more so than the lady who was in labor. They told us it would be an hour or so until the results from those tests came back.<br /><br />So, fast forward to about 1:30AM. By this point, I found a way to have the monitors make a loud whoosing sound. If I sort of jiggle my massive stomach and the babies move at the same time, the monitors make this deep whoosing gurgle that just made us laugh (we were definitely majorly punchy by this point). I'm sure the couple who were separated by just a curtain found us equally as entertaining.<br /><br />At about 2:30AM, they finally came back with our results: I'm not contracting (I knew that); I'm not dilated (I sort of thought that); and labor is not imminent (within the next few days). Their diagnosis: The pain is coming from my pelvic bone which is slowly moving out to make room for the deliveries. The burly doctor, after putting her full weight on my pelvic bone while pushing down, explained that it will only get worse and to put on a good maternity belt. So, I knew no more at 2:30AM than I did at 6:00PM when I made my first call. I was in no less pain, just more irritated and more tired and violated. As we left, we thanked the nurses for their help and Mark said, "See you in a couple of weeks."<br /><br />We made it home by 3:30AM and somehow, someway slept for a few hours. Luckily Mark was able to stay home with me on Thursday because it was still impossible for me to function at all on my own. Not only did I need him to wheel me with our desk chair to our bathroom, but anytime I needed my legs moved into another position from them resting on the ottoman, he had to reposition them for me. Anytime I needed to shift in my seat, he had to lift me to do so.<br /><br />Thursday night, my parents brought down a wheel chair so I didn't have to use our desk chair to get from place to place and Mark's mom and dad brought down a "potty" and a walker to help as well.<br /><br />Friday, my parents both already had the day scheduled off so they spent the day with me. I needed their assistance in everything. My dad for his strength to move me (I'm no lightweight, that's for sure); my mom for the food runs. At about 4:30PM, with the pain not getting any better (okay, I know the doctor said it would only get worse, but I'm still not believing this is "normal"), I decided to call my regular doctor to see if there's anything they could do. At this point, I was hoping they would admit me. Not to take the babies this early, but because I would be in a more comfortable bed, with a bathroom 5 feet away, and a full staff of people trained to take care of these situations. His nurse said, "Get to labor and delivery" and I thought for sure my wish would come true.<br /><br />I called Mark at work; told him we're headed over again. My mom, who was making dinner in the kitchen at the time, cleaned up, and we got suited up to head out to L&D for the second time in 2 days.<br /><br />Mark was waiting for us at the entrance doors with a wheelchair and we went right up. They were waiting for us - not in an exam room - but in a real room with the comfy bed that moves positions, a private bath, a TV, VCR and DVD player. The nurse looked at me and said, "Don't worry, you won't be staying here tonight." Oh, if she only knew that I was hoping I would.<br /><br />After getting dressed in the gown, one of the nurses we had the other night came in to get me hooked up to the monitors. She found Max right away but Jillian kept on moving around; she couldn't get her to sit still. After about 20 minutes of trying, she finally found her strong, steady heartbeat.<br /><br />The doctors came in pretty quickly. I explained my situation and begged them to let me stay. I explained that I can't have everyone keep on taking off work to stay with me; that there's no way that I could function on my own. I needed the constant help. They were very blunt and said they didn't think it would happen. I still wasn't contracting; they would check to see if I was dilated at all. (Yey! Another exam!).<br /><br />They pushed down on the same sore spots and all concluded the same diagnosis as the docs the other night did. Then, the worst news of all (WARNING: TMI); the nurse came in to say my urine sample was contaminated so they'd have to catherize me. I warned her I am a big baby and I will scream if she hurts me. "Go for it," she said. And I did. I said to her, "how am I going to push these babies out if I can't even handle something like that?" "With an epidural," was her dry response.<br /><br />We waited the hour for our results to come back to make sure there wasn't an infection. There wasn't and I was cleared to go. My wish did not come true...they wouldn't keep me. Another doctor came in to see me before I was ready to leave (the 5th and final doctor I met during our 2 visits to L&D). "You can't stay here because you don't have an infection. I know it hurts, but there's so many diseases and infections running through this hospital that you will be more prone to getting something and the babies getting something if you stay." Her rationale made sense to me and I gave in and had Mark help me get dressed for another ride home from the hospital. They did give me a prescription for Percocet that was meant to help with the pain (and to help me sleep, too). In the meantime, Mark's parents and my dad were headed back down to our house with one of those lift/reclining chairs for a better place to sleep and an easier way to get out of a sitting position.<br /><br />So, we're back home and not really feeling much relief at all. My house - which up until 3 days ago was looking so cute with all the baby necessities (a pack and play, two bouncies, a swing) - now looks like a Medical Supply Store. We've got the lift chair, the wheelchair, the potty, the walker all cramped into our downstairs. My "dorm room" upstairs, which had become so functional for me, is now completely off limits. I can't walk from chair to chair in my living room without assistance; the steps would be like climbing Everest for me.<br /><br />In all of this, though, I have to keep on reminding myself that the longer the twins stay in me, the less time they'll have to spend in the NICU. And, I'd rather be in pain for the next couple of weeks than to have to watch them struggle to breath in the NICU. Wow, I'm really sounding like a mother, aren't I?BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1165357895205573642006-12-05T17:06:00.000-05:002006-12-05T17:31:35.223-05:00Circus Show Freak<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3257/3873/1600/560953/32%20weeks.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3257/3873/320/940251/32%20weeks.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />That's me, a big ole circus freak....everytime I go to the hospital, you would not believe the people that comment on my size. It's not even in hushed voices. As my name got called today and I struggled to get out of my chair, this woman - from at least 20 feet away - says out loud: "Look at how uncomfortable she is." Another one made a comment to her husband, "Look, honey, I could be that big right now." In fact, as we were sitting in the waiting room waiting to be called for our second appointment, we heard the familiar clang, clang, clang of a chained, female inmate being escorted in by two prison guards for an appointment. Maybe everyone was just being polite, but I know she didn't get as many looks and comments as I did.<br /><br />So, our appointments went well today. We found out both babies are weighing 5 pounds each (for those non-math majors, that means I'm carrying 10 pounds of baby around with me right now)! When I asked the tech to tell me what that means in terms of how far ahead I am, she said "You know that won't change your due date, right?" I responded: "Yes, I know. I just like to know what kind of overchievers they are." So, they're both measuring about one week ahead.<br /><br />I took my "birth plan" into the midwife today to review with her to make sure I wasn't missing anything. Most birth plans are written by those soon to be mothers who want to really, truly experience the birthing process. Their birth plans say things like: don't offer me pain medicine; I don't want an epidural; I want all measures taken before you have to do a c-section; I want the baby put right on my chest right after he/she comes out; my husband will cut the umbilical cord; under no circumstances should my baby be given formula - I will breast feed immediately.<br /><br />Not ours. We start out by saying (and I'm not even kidding here) - the second I get in my room, I want the IV started to give me the drug that "calms me down" (there is actually something they can give you to "take the edge off"); I want any and all anti-nausea medicine; if both babies are not head down, I don't even want to try a vaginal birth - cut me; I want both babies completely cleaned off before they are handed to me or my husband; neither my husband nor I will cut the cord, please don't ask us to that day; we have already made our decision that I will not breastfeed, please don't send in a lactation consultant during labor or after delivery to talk me into breastfeeding; please try to give me all pain medication through the IV as I have problems swallowing pills (really, I'm still not even kidding); I want the epidural the second it is available.<br /><br />The midwife had a good laugh; I'm sure she's thinking is this gal really ready to be a mom? Oh, but I am. I just want the gross stuff AND THE PAIN to be kept to a minimum.BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1164935923566955342006-11-30T17:33:00.000-05:002006-11-30T20:18:43.650-05:00You Miss Me, You Really Miss Me......wow, I can't believe how many people have emailed to see where I've been since I haven't blogged lately. Things have been so quiet and uneventful that there hasn't been much to blog about. But since everyone seems to be missing me, I thought I'd blog about what I've been missing....(in no particular order)<br /><br />diet soda<br />my feet<br />my waist (okay, some will argue it wasn't really there 8 months ago either but there was a time...)<br />walking<br />wearing nice clothes<br />sleeping on my belly<br />Malibu Rum and Diet Cokes<br />The King of Queens (this doesn't really have anything to do with my pregnancy, I realize, but I still miss my weekly helping of Kevin James. I do get plenty of old episodes running in syndication and joy of joys --- I saw that new episodes are starting next week on Wednesday!!!! Yey!!!)<br />going out to eat<br />shopping<br />putting up Christmas decorations<br />my nieces<br />my friends<br />my co-workers<br />my friends who used to be co-workers<br />going outside (it looks like this week was one beautiful week!)<br />my car <br />sleeping through the night (I know that won't be happening for the next couple of years!)<br /><br />There are things I simply don't miss, though too:<br />cleaning the house<br />doing the laundry<br />driving to Harrisburg<br />getting up at 5AM<br /><br />In other news, I think I officially "dropped" (which really doesn't mean much, other than the babies are headed downtown and getting ready for their exit). It could still be a few more weeks yet. I have a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, so hopefully we'll have some good news then. Anyone wanna take bets on how big the Buddahs are? I'm saying they both hit the 5 pound mark. Mark thinks they're around 4 lbs 3 ounces. What about dates? Who has a hunch on when they'll make their arrival? For some reason, I see myself in the hospital on Christmas -- not necessarily that I'll have them Christmas Day, but either that I'll be recovering or be laboring that day (and stuck eating hospital food).BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1163978447526977952006-11-19T17:57:00.000-05:002006-11-19T18:20:47.980-05:00Showers All DaySo, last Sunday we awoke to a rainy, miserable day.<br /><br />"Showers all day," Mark said.<br /><br />Odd choice of words, I thought. Why wouldn't he just say it's going to rain all day?<br /><br />A few minutes later: "What time are you going to get your shower?" he asked me.<br /><br />"Not sure. Why?"<br /><br />Two more minutes pass: "I'm not sure what time I'm going to get my shower," he offers.<br /><br />Not the usual Kehler morning banter.<br /><br />A few more sentences were exchanged with the word "shower" in it until finally he said: "How about a baby shower today?"<br /><br />YEY! My baby shower! I've been waiting a long, long time for a baby shower and it was finally here. Of course, Mark had to tell me that morning because the only way he would be able to (1) get me to shower (2) fix my hair and put on makeup (3) dress in clothes that actually cover my protruding belly and (4) leave the house would be to give me a really good reason to do so. And this was the best reason ever (next to my water breaking or contractions starting!)<br /><br />It was a lovely event planned by my mom, with help from my sister and mother-in-law and Mark's aunt, held at my church just a few blocks down (remember, doctor's orders: I could have a shower, it just needed to be close by my house so I didn't have to be in a car for too long) and attended by about 50 close friends and family. <br /><br />Everyone was so extremely generous. I couldn't believe all the gifts we received; it was an exhausting day just sitting there opening them all up. In fact, when my mom came over later in the week to wash the baby clothes before putting them away, I couldn't even remember opening up half the items! <br /><br />We spent some time today putting everything else away -- the piggy banks we received as gifts on the shelves my dad stained for us; the Longaberger baskets in pretty pastel colors on the shelves; the 500+ diapers in the closet; the toys in (what else) a Longaberger basket; the picture frames stored safely away in a drawer just waiting for the first shots of Jillian and Max.<br /><br />It all feels so close now.<br /><br />I'm 30 weeks today. My midwife said she'd be happy if I got to 33 weeks; the high risk doctor said he probably wouldn't let me go much farther than 37 weeks if I didn't already go on my own. <br /><br />I don't have a bag packed yet, although I feel like I should get that ready. Nor do we really have a game plan in place. We need to figure out who I'll call/what I'll do/how I'll get to the hospital if labor starts and Mark's traveling for work. We need to make a phone list of people to call to start sharing the good news of the twins' arrival...wow, so much to do yet...what am I doing wasting time here on this blog?BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34898829.post-1163976647357649272006-11-19T17:27:00.000-05:002006-11-19T17:50:47.366-05:00Bye, Bye BMWIt's a sad weekend in the Kehler household. Well, it's really only sad for me. We traded in the BMW for a twin-mobile. After putting together the double stroller, Mark tested (and I hoped beyond hope) that it would fit in the trunk of the BMW. It didn't. We knew what we had to do. I couldn't even bring myself to say good bye when Mark took it for its last, lonely drive to the dealership. I loved that car. That car made me happy when I drove it. It had heated seats. A sun roof. The mirrors adjusted on its own when I parked it. It was the "ultimate driving machine". <br /><br />However, we're now the proud owners of a GMC Yukon XL. It is a beast of a vehicle. I think it seats 8 or 9. It has a DVD player. The third row of seats. Enough cargo space for a double stroller and groceries and the grandparents (they wouldn't go in the cargo area, silly. They'd go in the third row).<br /><br />I negotiated the deal by proxy from my bedroom. Mark doesn't have a good history of taking my "negotiation direction" and getting us what we want. When we honeymooned in Jamaica, we visited this awesome jewelry store where I had my eye on a beautiful tennis bracelet and he lusted after a Tag Heuer watch. Making a long story short, I got myself kicked out of the store after the seller through a calculator at me because I was low-balling the deal way too much (hey, it's where you have to start, right). After asking the tour bus driver to hold up the bus for us, I gave Mark specific direction as to what to do to get us the prized items. Specifically, I said, "Go back in and offer them $2500 (or something like that - I really don't remember the exact costs) but know that I'll go as high as $3000". Not two minutes later, did Mark come out of the jewelry store empty handed (and a faint bruise from a calculator on his forehead?). "What happened?" I asked. "Well, I went in there and said, 'my wife really wants this bracelet and she told me to offer you $2500 for it but she said I could go as high as $3000'". If I had a calculator on me I would have hurled it at him at that point. "You never give up what you're willing to pay! Thanks a lot; you just cost me the most beautiful tennis bracelet in the world." We left Jamaica jewelry-free, but he's definitely made up for his fatal mistake every Christmas and birthday since.<br /><br />But, I must say, he did a great job parroting my words to get us this deal on the Yukon. Especially when he went to pick it up on Saturday and they wanted to charge us $100 more since the payoff on the BMW I had estimated was about $80 more than I thought. (I'm still trying to figure out why an $80 difference would cost us $100 more.) I was ready to walk at that point when he called from the dealership to relay the news. "I'll put a stop payment on the (downpayment) check and we'll forget the whole thing. If they're willing to let a sale go away for $100, then they don't want our business that badly," I said furiously. "Give me a minute," Mark said. I did and in that minute I called the bank to make sure that the check hadn't cleared yet and I was well within my rights of putting a stop payment on the check. It hadn't and I was. (Still hope for the BMW!) The phone rang a few minutes later. It was Mark: "You would be so proud of me. They're not making us pay the difference." <br /><br />Darn right I was proud. Now for that second honeymoon to Jamaica and to scout out a new bracelet....BedArresthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11331032570788193281noreply@blogger.com0