tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64463651190345008142024-03-05T16:12:45.736-08:00Moments Worth RememberingSavoring the Moments of our life with A GIRL NAMED EMELINE.Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-71450525611604995022013-03-21T06:54:00.001-07:002013-03-21T07:26:24.860-07:003/21 -- World Down Syndrome Day! Today, March 21st, is World Down Syndrome Day. It is always a bittersweet day for me. Sweet because I celebrate the absolute gift that Emeline is to my life, but bitter because I know that the population of individuals with Down Syndrome is shrinking rapidly, thanks to early detection and the horror of abortion. Bitter because I realize that <strong><em>over 90%</em></strong> of mothers who receive a diagnosis of Down Syndrome for the child they are carrying make the conscious choice that they would rather <em><strong>not</strong> have the child</em> than have a child with Down Syndrome, it absolutely breaks my heart. It devastates me. "Why?" you may be wondering. "Why would you care? It's someone else's child." Not withstanding the fact that abortion breaks the heart of God, first and foremost, it breaks my heart because statistics like that demonstrate how little value my child's life is perceived to have by the world at large. And having her in my life, I <strong><em>KNOW</em></strong> that that perception could not be more wrong. <em>For the record, Emeline would still be a gift even if she did not have Down Syndrome.</em> <strong><em>The fact that she IS, is the gift----NOT that she has Down Syndrome.</em> </strong><br />
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A t-shirt I had made for Emeline that says</div>
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"My Designer Genes are fearfully and wonderfully made!"</div>
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Emeline does not define Down Syndrome, nor does Down Syndrome define Emeline. But the fact is, she does have Down Syndrome. She was born with that extra (third) copy of genetic material on her 21st chromosome (which is why World Down Syndrome Day is celebrated on 3/21!), and that extra genetic material is what is responsible for all of the trademark descriptors by which many people who have DS can be identified: very distinct facial features including a flat face, a
small broad nose, abnormally shaped ears, a large tongue, and upward slanting
eyes with small folds of skin in the corners. In addition to the visible physical features, Emeline also has several medical challenges that people with Down syndrome have an increased risk of developing: GI problems, heart defects, vision problems, hearing loss, and speech-related delays.
While Emeline does not have hypothyroidism, which is very common in individuals with DS, she does have <em>other</em> endocrinological problems (hypoparathyroidism, adrenal insufficiency, and salt wasting). Other health challenges more common to people who have Down Syndrome are leukemia and chronic respiratory infections.<br />
People with Down Syndrome almost always exhibit some level of mental retardation; children with Down syndrome usually develop more
slowly than their peers, and have trouble learning to walk, talk, and take care
of themselves. That is not to say that they can not do it; but it does take them longer. Emeline has been no exception to this rule. <br />
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All of these health-and-development-related challenges can be exhausting in and of themselves. Add in the socially challenging issues that come with having Down Syndrome, and life can indeed be daunting at times. Having a visible disability is both a blessing, and a curse. It is a blessing when individuals notice that a person has Down Syndrome and extend grace in the form of extra patience, but it is a curse when the opposite occurs. Not everyone is willing to wait that extra few seconds for a person with Down Syndrome to respond to a question; patience is a virtue that not everyone has. The derogatory word "retard" and phrase "That's so retarded" have been such a bane to individuals with cognitive impairments (and those who love them!) that there has been a concentrated effort called "Spread the Word to End the Word" that hopes to eradicate the use of such hurtful language. Discrimination against those with disabilties still goes on. Even in Emeline's young life, she has been discriminated against because of her disability, because she has Down Syndrome. Last year I called to inquire about a dance/tumbling class for Emeline, and the owner/instructor was more than happy to add another student to her troupe until I mentioned that Emeline had Down Syndrome. I had asked early in the conversation if the instructor was comfortable working with kids with disabilities. She gushed about how they'd had many kids with disabilities through the years, and how it definitely was NOT a problem. I breathed an conscious sigh of relief and went on with my other questions. At the end of the conversation I mentioned how glad I was to have found this class, because with Emeline having Down Syndrome, physical therapy had been a part of our life since she was born, and since she had been released from physical therapy, I was looking for some movement-related activity to keep her active, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. The immediate silence that followed was stifling. I waited, and waited, until finally I said, my voice wavering as tears threatened to spill, "Wait a minute. Is Down Syndrome a problem?" To which she immediately replied, "You find 5 or 6 other kids with Down Syndrome, and we'll have a class <em>just for them</em>." I was stunned. I said, "But you said earlier that you were comfortable working with kids with disabilities." To which she replied, "Yes, but it's not fair to the other kids to have <em>someone with Down Syndrome</em> in their class." This person had never met Emeline, yet based solely on the fact that Emeline has a diagnosis of Down Syndrome, she had already determined that she was not going to succeed in a class with her typical peers. This, exactly this, is why we have an on-going need for Down Syndrome advocacy and awareness. With early intervention, therapies, and new research, kids with Down Syndrome are accomplishing more than their peers of the last generation. Their future is bright, and their hopes and dreams are within reach. <em>As a parent of a child with Down Syndrome, my job is to educate and prepare her for the world and the future.</em> <strong>But it is also to prepare and educate the world for my child. And so today, I write.</strong><br />
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What are YOU doing to make the world a better place? I am working on rearing one little girl who was blessed with one extra piece of genetic material who has an amazing capacity to spread joy, to encourage, to renew hope, to cause laughter, to amaze, to inspire, to motivate, to uplift, to bless, to LOVE. Happy World Down Syndrome Day. Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-89208356395748866792013-03-03T16:38:00.004-08:002013-03-03T16:40:22.582-08:00Playing Catch Up: Our Virginia Trip, June 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In June, we were able to get a great deal on a trip we'd been wanting to make--to Virginia.</div>
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We've been working on the Dunham genealogy for several years now, and we needed to make a trip to the Virginia State Library and Archives to do some more research. Em loves a trip to pretty much ANYWHERE; she loves to travel, and she really is a great traveler.</div>
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I apologize that the pictures are in a very random order (?); they do, however, give a peek into our adventures back in America's history. We spent a day at the state Archives, and then spent a few days at Williamsburg, Yorktown, and Jamestown, enjoying all the historical information to learn about there. We spent two days at the beach--a first for Emma. She was absolutely enthralled with the beach. She is insistent that we are going back this year. (I'm afraid she's in for a bit of disappointment!) </div>
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Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-38838728256971524882013-03-03T12:36:00.000-08:002013-03-03T12:36:51.791-08:00Starting again, and Emeline's requestWow. So I haven't written a blog post in 9 months. If the saying goes, "Time flies when you're having fun," then I guess I am having a blast, because if you would have asked me, I would have replied in embarrassment, "Oh, it's been 2 or 3 months since I last blogged." Huh. Well, rather than lament what can't be undone, I'll just do what I *CAN* do....Try again, starting today. So here we go...<br />
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In the last few weeks, I have felt the niggling in my stomach. I have felt the need with building urgency that writing here (read that "writing here with some degree of consistency and regularity") is something I *NEED* to do. Not for me, but for Emeline. She is growing. She is changing. Growth and change are exciting, but at times they can be scary, too. Being stretched, expanding one's comfort zone is not always easy nor comfortable, but it is a part of life, and well, that's what this blog is about--Emeline and her life.<br />
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So over the next few posts, whether they show up in a matter of days or months (hopefully days!) I want to share my heart with you, but more importantly share Emeline's experiences and her heart with you.<br />
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What's new with Emeline since the last post of May, 2012? So many things! New medical challenges, a new educational setting, some new extra-curricular activities, some new friends, and some exciting growth and progress! I will update you on all of those areas in the next few days (yes, I am forcing myself into commitment here, am I not?) but for today, I want to share just one quick story. <br />
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The other day we were out, running some errands in town and everything was fine, or so I thought. But as we were driving home, I looked in the mirror and noticed Em's eyes were full of tears. She wasn't crying, but she looked like any second the dam would break. I said, "Emma, what is wrong?" as I racked my brain, trying to remember anything that could have happened that would have upset her so. Her answer, in all of its simplicity was very profound. "People never wissen. Say how are woo, but never wissen." (Translation: "People never listen. [They] say how are you, but [they] never listen.") It has taken over 7 years for her to get to this place, a place where she not only has something to say, but she also finally has the ability to say it. And she wants to be heard. But I suspect that because her speech is still sometimes garbled and/or unclear to those unused to communicating with her, people look away and/or disengage when they don't understand her. I completely know what she is talking about. We can be at the grocery store and see someone we know. Invariably, they will say, "Hi, Emma! How are you?" and two things will happen. One, if Em doesn't immediately begin replying, the person will initiate conversation with me, effectively cutting Emma off from responding altogether. Or, if they DO allow time for Em to respond, quite frequently they won't understand her and instead of saying, "Could you say that again?" or "I'm sorry, I didn't understand what you said, Emma" they will immediately initiate conversation with me with, "How has she been? How is she doing?" which again cuts her off from the opportunity to respond. Unfortunately, as evidenced by her tears of the other day, Emeline realizes that's what is happening.<br />
And clearly, it makes her sad. And that makes this momma's heart sad. <br />
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So what is the point of my sharing that story? It's certainly NOT to discourage people from talking with Emeline, or any other person with intellectual disabilities. Emma, and others like her, are usually thrilled to be treated like everyone else and included in real life experiences, including conversation in the grocery store or at the library. If I am there with Emma, (which 99% of the time, I am---she certainly isn't driving herself anywhere yet! LOL), I try to "translate" for the person what Emma has said, if I see that they aren't understanding her *WHEN* they give me the chance. On a rare occasion, people do. But a great majority of the time, people don't. They immediately begin addressing me, and unfortunately it would feel awkward (and probably comes across as quite rude) for me to say, "Hey, may I ask you to let my girl answer your question, before you begin talking with me?" So yeah, I don't say that. But I am blogging about it today, because it matters. You cared enough to ask how how she was; thank you for caring enough to let her answer you. While it may not be a big deal to you, it really does matter to a little girl who at seven years old just wants to be heard. <br />
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<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-52898457174219290502012-05-21T12:23:00.000-07:002012-05-21T12:51:15.290-07:00Emma, V.I.P"Emma V.I.P.! Emma V.I.P!" If I heard that statement once, I heard it a hundred times that week. <br />
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The third week of April, Emeline was the V.I.P. (Very Important Person) in her Kindergarten class. (And while I see you're going there, let's have none of that "Third week of April?! This is the third week of May!" conversation. You know how awful I am at keeping up with this blogging business! :P) ANYWAY...I have no doubt in my mind that this experience--Being V.I.P--would easily place in the "Top Ten Best-Ever Events In My Life," if Em were to create such a list. <br />
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First thing in the morning, Monday morning that week, I say, "Emma, it's time to wake up." <br />
Uninteligible mumbling. Roll over. Slap hands in mom's direction. "Go 'way!"<br />
"Emma, it's time to wake up. It's a school day!"<br />
Eyes pop open. Girl pops up. "Sool! Emma V.I.P. Oh, yeah! Emma V.I.P.!" And off she goes, running for the bathroom, ready and eager for the day.<br />
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3:30 p.m. I am there to pick her up. "How was school today?" I ask.<br />
"Emma V.I.P. Good day. Emma V.I.P." <br />
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5:00 p.m. Daddy gets home. Emma runs out to meet him. "Daddy home!" <br />
"Hi honey! How was school today?"<br />
"Emma V.I.P. Good day! Emma V.I.P.!"<br />
"What did you do as V.I.P. today?"<br />
"Good day. Emma V.I.P."<br />
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5:30 p.m. Time for supper. "Whose turn is it to pray?" <br />
"Oh! Emma pway! Emma V.I.P! Emma!"<br />
"Okay, you can pray."<br />
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"Okay, Em, you need to eat your food."<br />
"Oh yeah. Emma V.I.P. Emma eat. Emma V.I.P." <br />
Daddy and I exchange glances over her head. I turn away. What can I say? She totally cracks me up sometimes! LOL<br />
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Bedtime "Emma, it's time to get jammies on. Let's go!" <br />
"Ohhh-kay. Emma get jammies on. Emma V.I.P. 'Portant. Get jammies on. V.I.P."<br />
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"Emma, let's take your medicine."<br />
"Emma take med'cine. Emma V.I.P. Yep. Emma take med'cine."<br />
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"Let's read a book."<br />
"Mommy wead book Emma. Emma V.I.P." <br />
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And so the story went. Every day that week. From the moment she awoke, 'til the moment she drifted off to sleep, she relished in the joy of being V.I.P. If there's one thing this girlie knows how to do, it's savor the moment. She loved every single minute of that week, I do believe. (Have I ever mentioned how much this girlie has taught me?!?)<br />
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She loved her moment in the spotlight, and I loved watching her love it! <br />
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In preparation for being V.I.P., Emeline brought home a little book which she was to fill in and color. It was comprised of questions all about her, you know, "What is your favorite food?" "How many people are in your family?" "What is your favorite toy?" so on and so forth. So we spent time over the weekend getting her book done. Then we had to make a foot-high paper doll that would hang in her class, with the rest of the students' V.I.P. models. If you know me well at all, you will know that an artist, I am NOT. By this time, after all the time we'd spent on Em's little "All About Me" book, she was D.O.N.E. with anything requiring pencil, pen, or crayon. I couldn't even entice her with the markers! (Which are, for the record, put up, most of the time. For very good reason. But that's another story for another day. Or probably not, judging from the infrequency of updates here.) But back to the story. The paper doll. I confess; I will admit it. I made her paper doll. I did it all myself. She watched. She clapped. She cheered me on. She refused to do it herself. Oh well. It's not like they get graded for their paper doll making skills in Kindergarten! So....if you're keeping track. We had the "All About Me" book to do. Check. "This is Me" paper doll to do. Check. Woohoo! Then I got to go on a scavenger hunt. There was a whole list of things it was "suggested" Emma could bring in. "Your newborn baby picture." Dig out the baby book. Find the picture. Check. "A picture of your family." Swipe the one taken last year from the end table. Check. "A picture of your pets." Ugh. Am I really going to dig out of the box of pictures to find a picture of our Beagles, Banjo and recently deceased Candy Cane? Of course I am! Check. "A picture of you doing something you enjoy." Woohoo! There's a picture of Em at tumbling on the fridge. Grab that shot and cross one more off the list! Check. And so on and so forth. "V.I.P." may have stood for Very Important Person, but for the momma's, it also would qualify as "Very Intense Process." Unless you're one of those moms who have always kept up with stuff like baby books, pictures, and scrapbooking. If so, well, Wow. That's all I can say. If I keep up with the cooking, dishes, laundry, getting Em to her therapies and doctor's appointments, and giving her all of her meds on time every day, well that's a day worth celebrating in my book! (And a rare thing, too!!)<br />
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All that being said, here are a few pictures I took of Emeline doing her presentation for her class at the end of her V.I.P. week.<br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_6364.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_6363.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_6359.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_6361.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
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And a video, too, even! :) This is Emma sharing the "All About Me" book I wrote about earlier. Enjoy!<br />
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<embed width="600" height="361" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowFullscreen="true" allowNetworking="all" wmode="transparent" src="http://static.photobucket.com/player.swf" flashvars="file=http%3A%2F%2Fvid58.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fg260%2FEmeline405%2F100_6360-1.mp4"><br />
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<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-4954054727830874402012-04-04T16:51:00.001-07:002012-04-04T18:38:40.558-07:00An Interview with Emeline: April 4, 2012What is your name? "Emma Duh-mmm. Emma Iwene Duh-mmm."<br />
How old are you? "Six."<br />
When is your birthday? "October tenf."<br />
Who is your mommy? "Bah-bwa."<br />
What does mommy do? "Work. Cook Banjo meat." (Banjo is our dog.)<br />
Who is your daddy? "Daddy."<br />
What does daddy do? "Work. Work on my swide and chickens."<br />
Who are your friends? "Bryson, Sophie, Blayton, Helton, Smith, Carter, Jeri, Jeri (she means Julie, Jeri's twin, LOL!), Arthur."<br />
What is your favorite color? "Gray."<br />
What is your favorite food to eat? "Sketti."<br />
What is your favorite song? "Hap Birfday."<br />
What is your favorite movie? "Sight Words."<br />
What is your favorite book? "SpongeBob book."<br />
What is your favorite animal? "Cocoa." (our neighbor's chocolate lab) <br />
What is your favorite ice cream flavor? "brown" <br />
What is your favorite toy to play with? "SpongeBob"<br />
Where is your favorite place to eat? "Sonic--fwench fwies and pop."<br />
Who is your favorite person? "Bryson."<br />
Who is your best friend? "Hmm. Chicky (tricky)...Bryson."<br />
What is your favorite thing to do? "Pway doll at school." <br />
What do you want to be when you grow up? "Emma cwimb up ladder. Pool, then swide down. Spwash!"<br />
Where will you live when you grow up? "Hotel."<br />
What do Mommy and Daddy do after you go to bed? "Play."<br />
Where do we go to church? "Bwoomfield, Iowa."<br />
Why do we go to church? "Go to church and pway. Fravrite."Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-75516363483215394462012-02-27T11:07:00.006-08:002012-02-27T11:59:40.802-08:00Small steps over time....It is fun and exciting and scary at all once, watching my sweet girl growing up. She has gained SOOO much independence this year. While it occasionally poses a problem (like when she packs a bag, grabs my car keys from the mantel and says, "Bye, Mom! Emma go hotel!" and opens the front door...but, that's another story for another day...), but for the most part, this increasing independence is a WONDERFUL thing to see.<br />
<br />
The lessons may take a while to learn, they may require lots of repetition, but she is gaining. I have learned an invaluable lesson along the way: Small steps will cover a great distance over time. <br />
<br />
One area where Em is gaining independence is in her personal self-care, specifically, taking her meds. She has done well with this for a while. (Please know *I* still do the dispensing!!) I lay them out in the morning: 2 pills, and 3 syringes (one small, and two large), accompanied by a glass of juice with Miralax. She knows they're there, and she takes them. The nurses at school give her her meds there at lunch time, and when I pick her up from school, I have her meds lying on the counter to take when she gets home. If I don't have her fourth and final dose for the day already out when she is getting tired at night, she will say, "Mom, med-cine!" I go and fill the final 2 syringes and get out the final pill for the day, and she takes it. "All done med-cine!" she lets me know every night. <br />
If only I'd known 4 years ago, when it was a two-parent job to hold down the screaming toddler and force the syringes into her mouth while she squirmed and fought and more often than not, spit out half of whatever we did manage to get in...Those were some hard times. I remember calling my mom more than once, in tears, saying, "I can't do this," and she always said, "Yes, you can. You don't have a choice. You WILL do it. It will get better...with time. Just get through today." And she was right. (As usual!)<br />
<br />
Em's keeping her glasses on was another battle I thought I would *NEVER* win. She started wearing glasses at 12 months of age. People told me, "Oh, you're so lucky she got them at such a young age. She'll learn early to leave them on, and you won't have near the trouble later." Well, I don't know about that. She's six years old now, and it's only in the past month that I'd say it wasn't an on-going challenge to not only keep the glasses on her face, but to make sure the glasses weren't being deposited in the garbage, hidden in the refrigerator, stuffed in a pillowcase, dropped in the deep-freeze...the list could go on and on. (Yes, really!) Glasses have been a HUGE (though necessary) hassle. Until recently. Em has finally realized that she can see MUCH better with the glasses, than without them. First thing in the morning, that's what she's asking for, as soon as she's out of bed. And she leaves them on, all day long! <br />
<br />
Emma is able to completely dress herself independently, as far as putting items of clothing on. We are, however, still working at tweaking the whole concept of matching. She understands the concept that if a skirt has a pattern with red in it, a plain red shirt will match it, or that any shirt she has will be okay with a pair of jeans or plain black pants. She is, however, quite adamant in her belief that anything that is striped will go with anything else that is striped. I guess she has internalized the concept that "likes go together," and when I tell her, "Stripes don't match stripes," she says, "Yes! Same!" and gets very aggravated with me. So, we clearly have a little bit still to work on, but for the most part, I can trust that when I send her to her room to get dressed, she will come out looking neat and presentable a great majority of the time. And TIME is what it took to get there. Boy oh boy, I could post over 100 pictures of some of Em's outfits from the past. There were some real doozies! But time and a lot of talking and showing and practicing and playing games and looking at books and magazines have paid off, as one more step has been made towards a little more independence and self-determination. <br />
<br />
Emma's speech has taken off this past year. She is saying new words almost every day. While she still can be hard to understand (especially for people who aren't around her very often), and has many articulation errors, and continues to refuse to use any pronouns (except the word "me"), I am not discouraged. I see growth; I hear change. I have learned that nothing big happens overnight. It takes time, practice, and most of all, patience. She will get there. I no longer fear "if"; I know know we're just waiting for "when."<br />
<br />
Oh how well I remember praying, working, watching, waiting for her to sit up. To crawl. To drink from a cup. To walk. Always small steps....always over time (sometimes a LONNNNGGGG time!)...but they ALL happened. She will get there. In her own time. <br />
<br />
Perhaps the biggest change I have seen in Emma lately is the beautiful little person inside that she is becoming. While I am undeniably proud of each accomplishment, every new "thing" Emma has learned to do, I am most desirous that she learns to LIVE LOVE because she understands God's love. I am constantly challenged in my own life, constantly aware that a little pair of eyes is watching me--Seeing what I do, how I treat others, hearing how I speak to them, and she is storing it all away in her mind. When she on occasion behaves badly, I find myself asking "Did she see ME do that?!" It is my daily hope and prayer, my daily goal that she sees me living God's love in action--a care and concern for others and their physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being, not for anything I can get out of it, not for any motive or reward, other than knowing that is pleasing to God. <br />
<br />
Last night after supper, I was in our bedroom, folding laundry, and Emmie came in. She touched my arm and said, "Mom, Kank oo mah food Emma eat. Good food. Kank oo, Mom, make mah good food." (Translation: Mom, thank you for the food I ate. It was good food. Thank you, Mom, for making my good food.") I looked at her, and walked out to where Bill was sitting in the living room. I said, "Did you send Emma back to the bedroom?" He said, "No, why?" I said, "You didn't tell her to come and tell me thank you for making supper?" Again, he replied, "No." I went back and hugged Emma and said, "Thank you, Emeline. That is very kind of you to thank me for making your supper. I really appreciate your doing that. That made me feel really good." She again said, "Kank oo." And then she was gone. Back to her room, where she was doctoring Howdy Doody yet again with bandages and tape. (Poor Howdy!) <br />
<br />
Small steps. We'll never be the fastest, and that's okay. It may take us longer than most to get places. But we <i>will</i> get there. And we are finding joy in each of these small steps, each of these moments worth remembering.Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-54951612993900891502012-01-24T16:48:00.000-08:002012-01-24T17:50:06.785-08:00An interview with Emeline, 5 years, 3 months old, January 10, 2011Here is yet another never-before-posted blog entry I found, from <br />
January 10, 2011. Em was 5 years and 3 months old at the time.<br />
<br />
What is your name? "Emma."<br />
How old are you? "Five." (Held up five fingers.)<br />
When is your birthday? "Oc-(pause)to-(pause)ber 10."<br />
Who is your mommy? "Home."<br />
What does mommy do? "Mom Home."<br />
Who is your daddy? "Dad."<br />
What does daddy do? "Home."<br />
Who are your friends? "Luke."<br />
What is your favorite color? "Blue.Red.Green" (I said which one do you like the best? She answered, "Yes. Blue.Red.Green.")<br />
What is your favorite food to eat? Pah-cone (Popcorn)<br />
What is your favorite song? "Bible."<br />
What is your favorite movie? "Bob-Bob" (SpongeBob)<br />
What is your favorite book? No answer.<br />
What is your favorite animal? "Brown." <br />
What is your favorite ice cream flavor? "Pahpole." (Purple) <br />
What are your favorite toys to play with? "Shirt"<br />
Where is your favorite place to eat? "Food"<br />
Who is your favorite person? "John"<br />
Who is your best friend? "Luke. "Papa"<br />
What is your favorite thing to do? No answer. <br />
What do you want to be when you grow up? No answer.<br />
Where will you live when you grow up? "Home."<br />
What do Mommy and Daddy do after you go to bed? "Night-night."<br />
Where do we go to church? "Church. Papa."<br />
Why do we go to church? "Church. Why."Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-34842061942427827732012-01-24T16:43:00.000-08:002012-01-24T16:43:04.821-08:00Coe Feet, or No Crying over Socks!Before you get too impressed with the volume of posts I have for today, <br />
let me tell you that I am going through my posts and kicking myself for the number of half-finished blog posts there are. <br />
<br />
Here is one from April, 2011. I have no idea why I never posted it...<br />
<br />
<br />
Emeline is obsessed with feet. Cold feet, specifically. <br />
More often than not, I am bare-footed. Em frequently will<br />
disappear into my bedroom and come out with a pair of socks,<br />
and hand them to me, "Mom, Coe Feet." At that point, she wants<br />
me to immediately sit down and put the socks on. It doesn't matter<br />
if I'm stirring something on the stove, or cleaning the bathtub,<br />
or whatever--cold feet rank right up there with national emergencies<br />
in her book, apparently. And waiting 5 minutes to warm those tootsies<br />
up is waiting 5 minutes too long.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, I will humor her, and put the socks on, because my feet<br />
actually are cold. LOL Other times, they aren't. Some times, I <br />
just don't want to have socks on. So I won't put them on. I will<br />
ask her to go and put the socks back in my room, because I don't want<br />
to wear socks right then. You'd think I was telling her we were<br />
giving each of her precious SpongeBob characters away or something,<br />
she gets so upset. "Mom, no coe feet, Mom. Peas No coe feet." <br />
She has even been known to cry, in her earnest and very sincere desire to protect my feet from the chill. I tell her, "This is NOT something that it is okay to cry over; this is SOCKS we're talking about here. I will have NO CRYING OVER SOCKS in this house!" And then I stop, and stand there, giggling at the utter ridiculousness that mommies sometimes hear themselves saying.Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-81025741896442419432012-01-24T11:45:00.000-08:002012-01-24T11:47:36.711-08:00Emeline's 6th Birthday!10/10/2011<br />
<br />
As we always have, we celebrated Emeline's 6th birthday with a birthday party at Grandma and Grandpa's house in Illinois. <br />
<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_5834-1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
Emeline's favorite movie for several months now has been "Peter Pan" (or, as she pronounces it, "Pee-nah Pay-an), so we chose to go with that for her party's theme.<br />
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I searched and searched, but never did find a single shirt with Peter Pan on it. Apparently Tinkerbell is the only marketable character from that movie. LOL When I showed Emeline the Tink shirt I'd bought for her, she<br />
said, "Ew. No sanks. No yike Tink. Tink bad guhl. Onwy wike Peenah Payan." (Translation: Ew. No thanks. I don't like Tink. Tink is a bad girl. I only like Peter Pan.) It took a few minutes of talking, but I finally convinced her to put the shirt on. <br />
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Aunt Joy made (or had made?) a Peter Pan hat for Em. <br />
She LOVED it!<br />
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Mommy is no "Cake Boss", but Emeline was happy with her birthday cakes.<br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_5789-1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
We had pixie sticks (Everyone needs a little pixie dust now and then!)<br />
and of course, Em's favorite, M&M's, along with our cake, ice cream, and punch.<br />
<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_5800-1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
I was getting ready to cut into the cake when Em reminded me, "Mom! Emma<br />
no bwow candles out!" OOPS! Good thing she was paying attention! LOL<br />
<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_5804-1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
Em and her good buddy, Justin. (Or, as Em calls him, "Jut-tin") <br />
<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_5807-1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
This last picture would have been precious to me anyway, but it became<br />
even more so in December, when we said goodbye to our dear old friend Bob.<br />
He and Lois have been dear to me all of my life, and they are like "great-grandparents" to Emeline. Last year, it was our good friend Joe Coley whose absence was felt at Em's birthday party. Next year, Bob's presence will certainly be missed. <br />
<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/100_5796-1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
And that's the end of the birthday pictures for this year. I had some more of Em opening presents, but of course, almost all of them are blurry. A photographer I am NOT.<br />
<br />
I can't believe how quickly the time has past! It doesn't seem all that long ago, when Em was turning 5; I can hardly believe she's 6 already! And I know 7 is just around the corner. I *must* do better at writing down more of our "daily adventures." (Because if you know Emeline at all, pretty much EVERY day is an adventure!!!) Birthdays are fun times to remember and look back on, but every day has moments I don't want to forget. Every day has Moments Worth Remembering.Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-49998762406859584022012-01-24T08:56:00.000-08:002012-01-24T09:16:29.835-08:00"You May Not Be So Lucky Next Time"Argle-Bargle. I started this post on 10/04/11, and just got finished editing it. I *hoped* blogger would post it in the (date) order in which it was written, but no such luck! Oh well. It's only fitting that my crazy-mixed-up life is appropriately reflected by a crazy-mixed-up blog! LOL<br />
<br />
10/04/11<br />
Yesterday Emeline had an appointment with a geneticist at U of I Hospitals and Clinics. It was our first time meeting this man, but I wasn't too concerned about the appointment. Em's cardiologist had asked me to schedule it this summer; he said it would be helpful, so I did. (Honestly, it wasn't. We already see enough specialists for Em's specific issues; this doctor didn't tell me anything new to watch for that I didn't already know. Or that Emma hasn't already been diagnosed with.)<br />
<br />
In the course of the visit, he examined Emma and asked me lots of questions. At one point, he asked if Emma was an only child. I told him yes. He said, "That's probably wise of you." I then told him, "Oh, it's not by choice. We would love to have more children, but sometimes wanting a child isn't enough." His next look was one of pity, and he said, "You may wish for a child that is different than this, that does not have such health concerns..." and I'm pretty sure that at that point, my instantly-red face clued him in that he had just gone TOO far. I interrupted him and said, "*THIS* child is perfect as she is. She is fearfully and wonderfully made, EXACTLY how God intended her to be, and that includes Down Syndrome, Addison's Disease, and every other health challenge she lives with." He said, "You misunderstand me. I only meant that, given your age and your already having one child with Trisomy 21, statistically, your chances are higher of having another one. And who would want to take that chance?" I said, "Well, *I* would, and my husband would, too. I think at that point he maybe was starting to see that this conversation was not going well. He continued, "But you don't understand. Your child is still young. There are many more, much harder things still ahead. And I can already see that although she is progressing well, she will never be independent. She will never live alone." Looking back, I really should have just gotten up and left the appointment then and there. Seriously.<br />
When a doctor thinks he can know the future of a 5 year old, he is too far gone, as far as I'm concerned. Talk about having a God-complex! <insert eye-roll here><br />
<br />
At that point, I interjected, "You know, clearly we don't see eye-to-eye on this, so maybe we should just get back to discussing Emeline." He said, "That's fine, but I just want to be very sure you understand that the reality is, you may not be so lucky next time. While she has some challenges, another child with Down Syndrome may be much worse." Wow. Thanks, doc. (Nope, that title doesn't even deserve the capital D this time, as far as I'm concerned.)<br />
<br />
I just looked at Emma, playing on the hospital table with the Polly Pockets the Child Life Specialist had brought in for her. She had surprised me when she said, as soon as we walked into the examining room, "I want Pockets." I was confused for a minute, and then remembered that when we were there for another appointment last month, that's what she had played with. One encounter, but she remembered what they were called, and wanted to play with them again. And figured, "Hey, if I ask, they might let me have them again." <br />
<br />
This child, who has not always been the fastest to progress, even amoung her peers with Down Syndrome, has come so far. Yes, she may not have crawled until she was 18 months, or walked until she was 3 and a half. Yes, she still may not speak very clearly, but the effort is there. And the desire is there. And, given time, it will come, just as the crawling and walking did. A little slower, but you know, <i>nobody cares anymore that she wasn't crawling at 1 or walking at 3</i>. She's walking now. <b>And some day she will have so much to tell these doctors who look at her and see nothing but Down Syndrome.<br />
</b><br />
If only their "education" didn't get in the way of seeing what's REALLY there. A child who loves without holding back, who senses in an uncanny way when someone near her is hurting or sad, who laughs and smiles and giggles with such joy that anyone near her can't help but do the same. If only they saw HER, and not Down Syndrome.<br />
<br />
ETA: Coming back to edit...I absolutely do not want to paint all doctors with the same broad brush stroke, and I fear this entry may have sounded that way. *THIS* particular doctor we saw that day was so condescending, so pity-full, so arrogant in the way he spoke with me; clearly, I was very upset. But I must say that we are blessed to have SO many other wonderful doctors that work with Emeline, who are positive, encouraging, understanding, and hope-full. I do not have the words to adequately say how thankful we are, and appreciative, of the excellent care they have always provided, frequently going "above and beyond" to insure that our girl is given every chance to enjoy life in spite of her health challenges. We are nothing but BLESSED.Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-61259627330079636692012-01-11T07:17:00.000-08:002012-01-11T07:19:12.168-08:00Before I can start the new year, can I PLEASE finish up the old?In the scale of ranking the importance of pictures, "first day of school" are ones on the higher end (for me). So of course I was frustrated when I couldn't find the ones I was SURE I had taken. But here we are, in January (well, it was December when I found the memory card), FINALLY uploading Em's first day of school pictures. (Okay, so I uploaded several, but I'm only posting one here.) This is from August 24, 2011. My big, bad KINDERGARTENER. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g260/Emeline405/102_5771.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-36266934431724119282011-10-27T08:17:00.000-07:002011-10-27T08:20:07.901-07:00Catching Up (Copied from Facebook posts--September)from September 29, 2011<br />
<br />
I was talking with Em about her first class field trip tomorrow--a trip to a pumpkin patch. I told her we'd have to pack a lunch for her to take; she said, "Emma pack yunch." <br />
I just opened her backpack, and here is a list of everything she had CRAMMED in there. Apparently, this is what she considers important to take to the pumpkin patch: winter coat, lightweight jacket, teddy bear, black patent leather shoes, pair of pants, a long-sleeved (turtleneck) shirt, a pair of socks, a pen, 2 pieces of blank white paper, a tube of crescent rolls, a tub of Philadelphia cream cheese, a pudding cup, 4 cheese sticks, a Capri Sun pouch, a stack of about 22 paper plates, and a stack of about 50 napkins.<br />
<br />
from September 28, 2011<br />
<br />
On Monday I bought a cheapie new Sterilite (plastic) pitcher with a great snapto-close lid. I made some lemonade in it for supper that night. Tuesday morning, when I got up, I walked by the trash can in the kitchen, and what do I see, but my brand-new pitcher in the garbage!<br />
I said, "What in the world?!? Who threw my brand new pitcher away?!?" <br />
Emma said, "Emma frow way." <br />
I said, "Em! Just because it's empty does not mean it's garbage. That's brand new; I JUST bought it yesterday!"<br />
She looked at me, said, "O-kay," and then walked over to garbage and pulled out the empty milk jug and the empty Powerade bottle that were also in the garbage, and brought them over to me. "Heyah (here), Mommy. Sowwy."<br />
<br />
September 26, 2011<br />
<br />
Oh, dear. Oh, my. How I wish my computer would let me upload pics. I have been listening to Em puttering around in the bathroom, but (probably against my better judgment), I let her be. She just came out....Now I see why she was in there for so long....<br />
Lipstick on her lips (and above and below them, as well). Eye liner (several lines) across her forehead. Mascara all over her eye lids. Blush (I think??) on her eye lids, too. Foundation smeared across her cheeks, in two thick stripes. And the beauty queen just keeps wanting to kiss me. "Emma pwetty, Momma. Emma pwetty." ♥♥♥♥♥ (I'm sure if you saw me, after all these kisses I've received, I probably mirror Em's makeup pretty closely! LOL)<br />
<br />
And......I *just* noticed, as she was walking away (from yet another kiss!) that she found the hair clips, too. 4 of them are now gracing the back of her head! (Along with the 2 barrettes and pony tail that she already had!) LOLBarbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-76491570990079949422011-10-27T08:16:00.000-07:002011-10-27T08:16:41.114-07:00Catching Up (Some Posts I've Cut & Pasted from my Facebook page--October)from October 20, 2011 9:00 pm<br />
Overheard in my house in the last 2 minutes:<br />
"Oh, soup nuts!" (Emeline's favorite expression for when she's frustrated. I have no idea where it came from; I'm guessing she made it up.....at least I don't remember SpongeBob ever saying "Oh, soup nuts!") Maybe I just missed it ???? <br />
and<br />
"Nigh-night time! Yaaaaaaay!" as she runs to get into bed. (Don't be envious. That will last all of 15 seconds, and then she'll be back out here again....)<br />
<br />
<br />
from October 20, 2011 9:00 am<br />
Today is picture day at school for Emeline. She was SO excited. They put a "Don't forget it's Picture Day!" sticker on the kids' shirts yesterday before they were dismissed. She must have 'remembered' 10 different times last night. She'd be in her room playing, and all of a sudden, come RUNNING out, yelling, "Mom! No Foh-get! Pic-ture Day! To-mah-woah! No Foh-get!" I'd reply, "Okay, Em. I won't forget." And she'd go back to her room.....only to repeat the same exact scenario ten minutes later. LOL<br />
<br />
And<br />
<br />
Em must have been having SOME dream early this morning. At 4:00 she woke me up by yelling at the top of her lungs, "DOGGIES!!!!" ROFL When I woke her up this morning, I said, "Em, did you dream about... doggies last night?" She looked at me like, "How did you know that?!?" And the she started cracking up. "Yep," she said. "Bah-jo and Cay-cane FUN-NY!" (Banjo and Candy cane are our two beagles.) Silly girl! ♥♥♥<br />
<br />
from October 15, 2011<br />
Barb D. loves a girl who knows what she wants. Emeline came in carrying a box of spaghetti and a jar of Prego. Mom! Sketti! Emma hungry! ♥ Hmmmm...it wouldn't be the first time we've had spaghetti for breakfast. (But Daddy is definitely NOT a fan....so it probably won't be happening today. LOL)<br />
<br />
from October 10, 2011<br />
Dear Emeline,<br />
Putting all of the kitchen towels and dishcloths inside the stove was a mean trick. <br />
I'm just thankful I noticed it before I turned the oven on tonight. Next time, please put them away in the drawer, rather than the oven. Thank you. <br />
Love, MommyBarbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-31143107165525616132011-10-27T08:07:00.000-07:002011-10-27T08:07:33.913-07:00Our Daily Conversations On the Way to SchoolIf you were riding in the car with us in the morning, this is the conversation you would hear. Every day. :)<br />
<br />
"We ah we?" (Where are we?)<br />
<br />
"You tell me where we are."<br />
<br />
"In da cah. Sool." (In the car. School.)<br />
<br />
"That's right. We're in the car, going to school."<br />
<br />
"Ohhhh-kay."<br />
<br />
"We ah we?" <br />
<br />
Repeat entire conversation two more times, or until we get to the end of our road, whichever comes first.<br />
<br />
Once we turn onto Hwy 63 (7 miles still to go before we get to town), the animal watch begins.<br />
<br />
"Whey cows?" (Where are the cows?)<br />
<br />
The cows are up here, on the right. Just wait a minute, and we'll see them.<br />
<br />
"Ohhhhhhhhh-kay."<br />
<br />
"We ah we? Oh, COWS! Oh, no! COWS! Goo Moh-ning, Cows! Goo Moh-ning!" (wave, wave, wave)<br />
<br />
I also greet the cows. "Good morning, Cows!" Because that's the way we roll. ;)<br />
<br />
"Toooo many cows."<br />
<br />
"Yes, there are quite a few. Can we count them?"<br />
<br />
"Oh, No. Toooo many. One, two, OH NO! Hoh-sie! (Horsie) Too many hoh-sie! Goo Moh-ning, Hoh-sie! Goo Moh-ning! Mom, Goo Moh-ning Hoh-sie!"<br />
<br />
Okay, I will. "Good morning, Horses!"<br />
<br />
"Tooooooo many hoh-sies."<br />
<br />
"Yes, there ARE a lot of horses, aren't there."<br />
<br />
"Oh NO! Cows! Moh cows! (More cows!) "Goo Moh-ning, Cows!"<br />
<br />
Repeat entire conversation every time we pass cows or horses. (About 7 times, I'm pretty sure.)<br />
<br />
The last mile before we get into town, there are no more animals. So I seize the moment.<br />
<br />
"Em, what kind of note do I want to read tonight in your Notebook?"<br />
<br />
"Goo Note."<br />
<br />
"That's right. I want a good note. What do you need to do, to make sure it's a GOOD note that your teacher writes to me?"<br />
<br />
"O-BEY!"<br />
<br />
"That's right. When she says it's time to stop coloring, you stop RIGHT THEN. Right?"<br />
<br />
"Yight!"<br />
<br />
"When she says it's time to line up, you line up RIGHT THEN. Right?"<br />
<br />
"Yight!"<br />
<br />
"What else do you need to do, to make sure it's a good note in your notebook tonight?"<br />
<br />
"No pinch fwends."<br />
<br />
"Uh-huh. No pinching. What else?"<br />
<br />
"No huht fwends."<br />
<br />
"Yep. No hurting friends. Keep your hands OFF of other people, right?"<br />
<br />
"Yight!"<br />
<br />
"Anything else you should do?"<br />
<br />
"Be nice."<br />
<br />
"That's right. Anything else?"<br />
<br />
"Hahd wook."<br />
<br />
"That's right. You should work hard. Do your VERY BEST. No piddle-poking around, right?"<br />
<br />
"Yight! Oh, NO!"<br />
<br />
"What's wrong?"<br />
<br />
"Daddy miss Emma." <br />
<br />
(Notice her skill at changing the subject? I'm pretty sure I didn't learn that until at least junior high. LOL)<br />
<br />
"Yes, Daddy misses you when you're at school. But he's at school, too, working hard, and he wants YOU to work hard at school, too. He wants to see a good note tonight that says, "Emma worked hard and had a GREAT day today. You know that?"<br />
<br />
"Yep. Poh Daddy miss Emma." (Poor daddy misses Emma.) "Daddy key-eye." (Daddy cry.)<br />
<br />
"I'm pretty sure Daddy doesn't cry when he's at school, but I know that he is thinking about you, and that he is hoping you are having a good day, and obeying, and working hard."<br />
<br />
"Yep. Daddy key-eye." (Daddy cry.)<br />
<br />
I have learned there is no debating this subject. She is firm in her belief that Daddy cries when he's at school, because he misses her that much. There is no changing her mind.<br />
<br />
By now we're just a few blocks from school. We start seeing school buses.<br />
<br />
"Mom! Sool Bus! Fwends!"<br />
<br />
"That's right! There's the buses. Some of your friends are on the buses, aren't they?"<br />
<br />
"Yep."<br />
<br />
"Oh NO!"<br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
"Fwends."<br />
<br />
"What about your friends?"<br />
<br />
"Fwends sad Emma no sool."<br />
<br />
"Your friends are sad when you're not in school?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah."<br />
<br />
"But you're going to be in school today, so they won't be sad, right?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah. Fwends happy."<br />
<br />
"Okay. Here we are. You have a good day. Be a good listener and what else?"<br />
<br />
"O-BEY!"<br />
<br />
"That's right. When you have a good day, you make Mommy happy, and Daddy happy, but most importantly, you make Jesus happy, right?"<br />
<br />
"Yight. Momma happy."<br />
<br />
"That's right. You make Grandma happy, too."<br />
<br />
"Poppa happy."<br />
<br />
"Uh-huh. Grandpa is happy, too."<br />
<br />
"Ya-ya happy."<br />
<br />
"Em, I don't think Boomer really cares at all if you have a good day, or not. He's a dog, and dogs don't care about those kinds of things."<br />
<br />
"Yep. Ya-ya happy. Yep."<br />
<br />
"Okay, well what's MOST important is that we make Jesus happy. And if we make Jesus happy, Mommy and Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa will be happy, too. You know that?"<br />
<br />
"Yep."<br />
<br />
I walk with her up to the building, where her 1-to-1 aide is waiting. <br />
<br />
"Goo Moh-ning, Miff!" (Good morning, (Mrs.) Smith!)<br />
<br />
Mrs. Smith replies with a cheery good morning, and a beautiful smile, and I walk away knowing that my child is in good hands, and is happy. What more could a mom ask for? (Other than maybe a good note from the teacher in that notebook every night. LOL)Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-24716685617370268222011-05-16T18:43:00.000-07:002011-05-16T18:43:01.235-07:00So, Who Wrapped All of My Willow Tree Figures in Toilet Paper?(As if anyone needed to ask?!?) LOL<br />
<br />
I have six Willow Tree figures on a table in my room. They've been there for a while, standing in their positions without any trouble. Or at least I thought they were. But Emeline must have had some sort of conversation with them, unbeknownst to me, because I discovered yesterday that she had laid all 6 figures down, wrapped them in toilet paper (each one individually!), and then covered the entire group with a hand towel.<br />
Who knows what they must have told her??? My best guess is that they were tired and cold. Tired of standing all the time, and cold because it was a cold day yesterday. So of course Em, being the helpful friend that she is, decided to help them out...or so I imagine. LOL <br />
I can't wait for the day that she will be able to tell me why she does some of these crazy things!!!Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-27557150298060612292011-05-16T18:14:00.000-07:002011-05-16T18:17:38.773-07:00Okey-Dokey!The other day, while explaining to Emeline our plans for the day, I ended my statement with the question, "Okey-dokey?" Her reply (an attempt to repeat what I had said) made me giggle: "A weeka-weeka!" <br />
<br />
I make no claims to understand how the brain processes speech, but that one just about did me in.<br />
<br />
I was cracking up even more when Em used my phrase again later in the week, when she was asking permission to go outside to play. She said, "Mom. Emma Ott-side. A Weeka-weeka?"<br />
<br />
I said, "You want to go outside?" <br />
<br />
She said, "Yep."<br />
<br />
"Okey-dokey," I replied. "A weeka-weeka!" <br />
<br />
Sigh...I love that girl!Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-32302737295014200392011-05-16T18:04:00.000-07:002011-05-16T18:04:29.210-07:00We're Still Here...Yes, it has been 3 months since my last blog post. I'm sorry!<br />
Between computer problems and being unable to upload pics, I have<br />
been very unmotivated to blog. I mean, it's the picture that tells the story, right?! Or so I have been telling myself. But the reality is, I<br />
have no idea how long it will be before my computer and camera software<br />
will become friendly again (?), so my options are these two: either keep ignoring the blog, or just go ahead and tell the Em stories, even if I am disappointed to be doing so without accompanying pictures. Since I am notorious for failing to remember the things that everyone else remembers so easily, I have concluded that if I want to have any hope of remembering Em's childhood years, I'd best get to writin'. So, here we go again!Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-42403539685992948982011-02-12T12:15:00.000-08:002011-02-12T12:15:36.412-08:00Saturday Fun!<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sps48csWIVLL2Ru88hwMILf3ii6qVhJqJZKNwgrH7ICWG_WKtCqM8QgOxjRAlGffT_dr2wKKobf2xPqkkh6sEBGOT59ASew3y006V_xrNlaja9g3hPJhGbF4WKu4c2EwCh-nJkBVfKA/s1600/100_5279.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sps48csWIVLL2Ru88hwMILf3ii6qVhJqJZKNwgrH7ICWG_WKtCqM8QgOxjRAlGffT_dr2wKKobf2xPqkkh6sEBGOT59ASew3y006V_xrNlaja9g3hPJhGbF4WKu4c2EwCh-nJkBVfKA/s400/100_5279.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />Emeline LOVES the snow. Absolutely loves it. If I would let her, she would be outside from about 5 minutes after she wakes up in the morning, until Bill gets home at night. She can put all of her snow gear on by herself, and many times she has come to me, all suited up in her snow gear, and I've had to say, "No, I'm sorry, it's too cold outside to go outside to play today." Tears usually follow, but sometimes that's just life.<br /><br />Today it warmed up to near 40, so--much to Em's delight-- when she came to me and said, "Pway. Ah-sigh." I answered her, "Yes! Yes, you can play outside today!" I think for a moment she was shocked. For so many days in a row lately she has asked, and I've always answered, "No, I'm sorry. It's too cold to play outside today." But when I said yes this morning, her eyes got big and she asked again. (I guess she thought I didn't understand the question or something! LOL) "Pway. Ah-SIGH. Me. Emma. Go. Pway. Ah-Sigh." I answered her again, "Go ahead!" And off she went. Yay for playing in the snow!<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-46987108232502710122011-02-08T18:13:00.000-08:002011-02-08T18:16:11.480-08:00"Peek A Cod"In the last week, Emeline has been playing a new game that she just LOVES. I really need to capture her saying it on video; her pronunciation is pretty cute. The new game is "Peek a Cod." (Otherwise known as "Pick a Card." LOL)<br />
<br />
She got a SpongeBob game set for her birthday that has 4 different games in it, but after looking at it, I felt like all of the games were still a little too challenging for her, so I put it up and away in the closet, thinking I'd pull it out in a few months and see if she was a little more ready for the games at that point. <br />
<br />
But if you know Em and her unparalleled love for all things SpongeBob, you know that there is no way she was going to *HAVE* a SpongeBob game---or ANYTHING SpongeBob, for that matter--and not have it out, using it and loving it. The game was no exception, apparently. After I put the game up, she promptly got the broom from the kitchen and used it to knock the box back down from the closet shelf. (Ha! So THERE, Mom!) Once it was down, she opened it and took out all the pieces inside the game. (I really believe it must be men who have never been around small children who think that it is a great idea to come up with a game that requires 47 plastic chips, 63 cards, a spinner (that absolutely MUST be made out of the flimsiest paper and plastic avaiable!), and seven game pieces, along with the game board. I mean, REALLY?!? REALLY??? But I digress again...) So she got the game down, and the pieces were joyously spread throughout her room.<br />
I did discover that Em didn't really care about the game itself, she only wanted the SpongeBob cards that came with the game. I did concede and let her have them, rationalizing to myself that we could practice numbers (since they do have the numbers on them), we could practice speech articulation by naming the characters (since they feature different characters from the SpongeBob series), we could practice colors (since the cards are different colors)....yeah, we could use them. So out they stayed. And throughout the day at different times, sometimes Em would bring the cards to me, other times I would get the cards, but we would do SOMETHING with them, whether it was counting, naming the characters, identifying the colors...you get the idea. <br />
<br />
But the other night, Em came up to Daddy, cards fanned out in her hand, and said, "Peek a cod." <br />
"What??? Say that again?" <br />
"Peek a cod."<br />
So he did.<br />
After he picked his card, she yelled, "Bob-Bob!" and he said, "That's right. It's SpongeBob."<br />
He laid the card down on the table, and Em held out the cards again. "Peek a cod."<br />
So he did. And so the card game went. Daddy picked a card, and Em guessed which character was on the card.<br />
She did get a little upset when, the next round, when it was Mommy's turn to play, Mommy made her turn the cards<br />
around so Em couldn't SEE who the characters were, when Mommy picked a card. LOL<br />
But she finally came around to the idea, and eventually thought it was great fun, even NOT knowing for sure<br />
who the characters were on the cards Mommy was picking.<br />
<br />
Peek a cod. Pick a card. Those words are music to this Momma's ears.<br />
<br />
<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0STYttU-GnomVzjfiN2h59Jl2w7kbrnEiUzgYis8QfxNb0OibmrrdJS47jf18LpcEqIju24AKGo-ZttzrR5YVGG7ax2X_o3zjHaWQlMhwypyE_Ctn0RDaA7ts1AvYs33Vj-nVO0gUQvI/s1600/2011-02-086.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0STYttU-GnomVzjfiN2h59Jl2w7kbrnEiUzgYis8QfxNb0OibmrrdJS47jf18LpcEqIju24AKGo-ZttzrR5YVGG7ax2X_o3zjHaWQlMhwypyE_Ctn0RDaA7ts1AvYs33Vj-nVO0gUQvI/s400/2011-02-086.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-40724680154628845162011-02-08T17:32:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:14:49.527-08:00I'm not even kidding you...THIS is what she just brought me. Just NOW. Like, 5 minutes after I posted the picture-filled post of Emeline making pizza--the post immediately below this one. <br />
<br />
<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQn7dR1vHMv5clKj5unkADnzgPNqDkCH-SAQOM8mSDZwNypungb1O9ok0VdW0kqvE163-ndNOlB5uHNdJ8cEiCmtjCr8XIquGXhwuZd9E3ba9LM8V61qF_Cpwzk5xn5RmdlXXnRXqfAmE/s1600/2011-02-085.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQn7dR1vHMv5clKj5unkADnzgPNqDkCH-SAQOM8mSDZwNypungb1O9ok0VdW0kqvE163-ndNOlB5uHNdJ8cEiCmtjCr8XIquGXhwuZd9E3ba9LM8V61qF_Cpwzk5xn5RmdlXXnRXqfAmE/s400/2011-02-085.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div><br />
<br />
She ate one piece of her HOMEMADE pizza, and then she disappeared,<br />
only to return a few minutes later carrying this Tony's frozen pizza. (She has disappeared to the basement, where the big freezer is.) At first I just thought she was showing me the pizza, you know, like, "Hey, Mom! <br />
Look, we MADE a pizza, and here's a pizza from the freezer. Isn't that cool?!? Two pizzas! Awesome!!"<br />
<br />
But no. That wasn't what she was telling me. In no uncertain terms she made very clear to me that she wanted me to cook the frozen pizza. (We won't even pretend that THAT actually worked out the way she had wanted it to. Yeah, NOT a CHANCE.) She wanted to eat the frozen pizza. She did NOT want to eat the homemade pizza. She had great fun MAKING the homemade pizza, but when it came down to it, she didn't want to EAT it. She wanted the Tony's pizza, NOT the homemade pizza. I can't believe it. I really can't. What a sad, sad day for pizzas everywhere....Except for Tony's pizzas, of course. <br />
<br />
Silly, silly, pizza-confused girl of mine.Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-163084547608459592011-02-08T17:02:00.000-08:002011-02-08T17:03:19.930-08:00Emeline makes a pizza!<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZIwCUW3KOU7osiEZyQSeOq2ALg1dBh_FDmrFdB6r6d5e6Fs1SQQTTX4WueM5ganK9k2fox1APOM-zE7nQvWbqmlGbjNDEKOGpfl1vU-xlXkJ1QWEulHNBzzZRZCDtFY6ldiWIqQpJLf4/s1600/2011-02-08.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZIwCUW3KOU7osiEZyQSeOq2ALg1dBh_FDmrFdB6r6d5e6Fs1SQQTTX4WueM5ganK9k2fox1APOM-zE7nQvWbqmlGbjNDEKOGpfl1vU-xlXkJ1QWEulHNBzzZRZCDtFY6ldiWIqQpJLf4/s400/2011-02-08.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpRK50j7xXFkLakqLZ4l3fwqYjomQ7kXiOJ4iUl8YBJC5psUT8d4sUbaUwKNVbIfZYXaklT6z7GPNZ3KaYKkoZVcZDE9TQW_EoHcXwh9YryYr9hmAnyLmUNvzia-QNWma3s8TNgAc9i0/s1600/2011-02-081.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpRK50j7xXFkLakqLZ4l3fwqYjomQ7kXiOJ4iUl8YBJC5psUT8d4sUbaUwKNVbIfZYXaklT6z7GPNZ3KaYKkoZVcZDE9TQW_EoHcXwh9YryYr9hmAnyLmUNvzia-QNWma3s8TNgAc9i0/s400/2011-02-081.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtOrCUv5LNdNvmTLs_fgrrRBNlbe7fa0r9tuY7rDLfE-fJV0IG5f1wbvDZ_UzQFogLpYmQv5QCVdrtXp_BHQi6M1KlWVoM6cYx46AsRe3qjR0dalUszwNBy3hVVry-q-veb4RYXbkfWTo/s1600/2011-02-083.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtOrCUv5LNdNvmTLs_fgrrRBNlbe7fa0r9tuY7rDLfE-fJV0IG5f1wbvDZ_UzQFogLpYmQv5QCVdrtXp_BHQi6M1KlWVoM6cYx46AsRe3qjR0dalUszwNBy3hVVry-q-veb4RYXbkfWTo/s400/2011-02-083.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggmMF-i2GXrTF9mFUCLe1BoRNwMC0Fkm1J_ruqchoguPgPm_ZmQ0UFzdGAy5ScZbyoV14-jCYzKYUaSg2IFTQEL9uad-YraYVWLdZxrK0ab0awBbzyOBuM6ap0u09_PQkrjHFe3VB1-8/s1600/2011-02-084.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggmMF-i2GXrTF9mFUCLe1BoRNwMC0Fkm1J_ruqchoguPgPm_ZmQ0UFzdGAy5ScZbyoV14-jCYzKYUaSg2IFTQEL9uad-YraYVWLdZxrK0ab0awBbzyOBuM6ap0u09_PQkrjHFe3VB1-8/s400/2011-02-084.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-43939141046293216982011-02-07T06:37:00.000-08:002011-02-07T06:46:06.646-08:00Problem: We're out of chocolate milkSolution: That's okay, Mom, I'll just drink the chocolate syrup!<br />
<br />
No, we did not have this conversation. This is just how I discovered her, when I came up from switching loads of laundry. She is a girl after her Momma's own heart, when it comes to all things chocolate. Where there's a will, there's ALWAYS a way... <br />
<br />
<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSi67uHzKBb770RhNljiiv0Jay4p68Wp7OuF0d9_R4o5hJ4BDJ_jdcbk3QOXO5IVTWVUHRFPyXpDEjtWDr70rSCZ3Lr8hvASqFMP40yf3wZC14IjVsoFKLb8FppXDw03EgDTZmGaZd6SQ/s1600/100_5197.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSi67uHzKBb770RhNljiiv0Jay4p68Wp7OuF0d9_R4o5hJ4BDJ_jdcbk3QOXO5IVTWVUHRFPyXpDEjtWDr70rSCZ3Lr8hvASqFMP40yf3wZC14IjVsoFKLb8FppXDw03EgDTZmGaZd6SQ/s400/100_5197.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />
<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLJsrVdugEHFW65RodAfC1Fvb3IOGomp0XoqCdArc9gjmu_C98cZeUZ0jgJNQsSridQxOtITWPEllWV9oSbivtRlh-mj_DD17M2yLLE7RrDytKqYVsbpl1fGzoSCjV9QTJDVyGEZhPg4/s1600/100_5198.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLJsrVdugEHFW65RodAfC1Fvb3IOGomp0XoqCdArc9gjmu_C98cZeUZ0jgJNQsSridQxOtITWPEllWV9oSbivtRlh-mj_DD17M2yLLE7RrDytKqYVsbpl1fGzoSCjV9QTJDVyGEZhPg4/s400/100_5198.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-66865687115198158852011-02-07T06:25:00.000-08:002011-02-07T06:30:51.184-08:00Newsflash!! Missing Underwear FOUND!!!<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbiHD2ZsG8EzTGTNFTEUqgG12-hgw-UBY6GVnTAJHFimZFxDFXD55LK60mKC79glU9g9hHeVZNuQ2fRCFmJlly0VYjeIH83yh0C_xOLlsjopDiDzucpZCOL51n0qEflJU2QlvcQvuiRGg/s1600/100_5200.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbiHD2ZsG8EzTGTNFTEUqgG12-hgw-UBY6GVnTAJHFimZFxDFXD55LK60mKC79glU9g9hHeVZNuQ2fRCFmJlly0VYjeIH83yh0C_xOLlsjopDiDzucpZCOL51n0qEflJU2QlvcQvuiRGg/s400/100_5200.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />
<br />
In Momma's CROCKPOT?!!? <br />
<br />
Due to some medical complications, potty training Emeline has been an extremely long and frustrating on-going challenge for us here. While I am proud to say (but still feel the compulsion to whisper, for fear that actually speaking the words out loud might accidentally jinx it, or something) that Em is 99% potty-trained and wears BGP (big girl panties) almost all the time now, she still has<br />
her moments where she decides she wants the ease and comfort of her old faithful Pull-ups. (Because yes, life is so much easier when you can just GO, and not have to worry about your pants suddenly being wet and therefore uncomfortable! Eww.) Anyway...so on one of her more rebellious days last week, she took off her BGP's and started wearing a Pull-up.<br />
I went into the bathroom, intending to make her put the BGPs back on, but said BGP's were nowhere to be found. Upon asking the Big Girl where her BGP's were, I was met with a blank stare, such as one might expect if one were hearing a foreign language being spoken to them. But such was not the case.<br />
Sigh...I looked in the hamper, in her toybox, under her bed....all the usual places, but the BGP's had vanished.<br />
It wasn't until I got the crockpot out yesterday morning, intending to put a roast in it for Sunday dinner, that I finally solved the mystery of the vanished BGP's. AHA! Mystery solved! Just call me Nancy Drew! LOL<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-51573478522685008662011-02-07T06:17:00.000-08:002011-02-07T06:17:07.673-08:00You'll never know what you'll find lurking in the refrigerator......when you have a 5 year old in the house! <br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQpqzYMtk8HFL0-uAUKGp8CdXK36uqedk3E71aTonx8mbHqzwWpO_EeYWA7PHkTRkCXBUBJMOWT-6JBCFzhZNjjbbhpi5IscKBHOg8BI3ZnUCjXZ8CPf5P4utan1Dnmqz1VrWWvrG51Q/s1600/100_5202.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQpqzYMtk8HFL0-uAUKGp8CdXK36uqedk3E71aTonx8mbHqzwWpO_EeYWA7PHkTRkCXBUBJMOWT-6JBCFzhZNjjbbhpi5IscKBHOg8BI3ZnUCjXZ8CPf5P4utan1Dnmqz1VrWWvrG51Q/s400/100_5202.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />Well, hello there, SpongeBob!<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446365119034500814.post-34852430236659929862011-01-10T14:15:00.000-08:002011-01-10T14:17:31.859-08:00Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTDwtKYilRdhH59SNz_0q1NwW41EEtURga7GQ12uX8ZeyROAYtXWkOFkV9P-PUPA1NvrJqPUomGsIkHPzxRECNYkogGYDpjXsJMuD4ou4his0NPhh7tpqeNOeHSygIz2TOH1IVdB0Tqg/s1600/100_5079.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTDwtKYilRdhH59SNz_0q1NwW41EEtURga7GQ12uX8ZeyROAYtXWkOFkV9P-PUPA1NvrJqPUomGsIkHPzxRECNYkogGYDpjXsJMuD4ou4his0NPhh7tpqeNOeHSygIz2TOH1IVdB0Tqg/s400/100_5079.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />
<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0BkoLrWkYdpKaDMELY-e2B38lvCMEaV7cifzTEYb7q18trpJN2riAgISGGh0Qw6v8vrR9KZaB_KeqVy82D2SqVGzolS1hUeYaXcbd17TMVTiBzUt0CepN-QqXm-I09UhFJJULtxSsFw/s1600/100_5083.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0BkoLrWkYdpKaDMELY-e2B38lvCMEaV7cifzTEYb7q18trpJN2riAgISGGh0Qw6v8vrR9KZaB_KeqVy82D2SqVGzolS1hUeYaXcbd17TMVTiBzUt0CepN-QqXm-I09UhFJJULtxSsFw/s400/100_5083.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />
<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK38Q4mVuBZ3ZPTm4tXNQ81GHY1GdCTE56EU__Sc-ztxXXWd03JrL3RPbDk3QeqXPv7AF1OGw0vDvqB9F090JfYUlsJV5Sdpg60zgsT9vMt8fA1fd8_pT-9-C_04u7W9Xsdr4T-acABow/s1600/100_5086.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK38Q4mVuBZ3ZPTm4tXNQ81GHY1GdCTE56EU__Sc-ztxXXWd03JrL3RPbDk3QeqXPv7AF1OGw0vDvqB9F090JfYUlsJV5Sdpg60zgsT9vMt8fA1fd8_pT-9-C_04u7W9Xsdr4T-acABow/s400/100_5086.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />
<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ibcC5GMthhhLmRAbJFG_HL0fpQI-3L8tJLmRAcGBrlxwheWbgr84ao6kHBhv3fu4rtDga0cmMBOdHIdcC8KO1vBR8tUMipkHCsBxnNYQYI0Fdu5CZpR2uTRg2Yx68YXkH7xBSMl5h6M/s1600/100_5087.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ibcC5GMthhhLmRAbJFG_HL0fpQI-3L8tJLmRAcGBrlxwheWbgr84ao6kHBhv3fu4rtDga0cmMBOdHIdcC8KO1vBR8tUMipkHCsBxnNYQYI0Fdu5CZpR2uTRg2Yx68YXkH7xBSMl5h6M/s400/100_5087.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11329178226669661667noreply@blogger.com0