tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32689588666998868462024-02-21T01:22:41.539-04:00Bush Girl.. Beach Girl..Foreign GirlUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-16038773960166543942012-02-09T21:58:00.001-04:002012-02-09T21:58:51.891-04:00Go-Go Juice and One Million Moms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am learning a lot in my stint as a stay-at-home-mom. This week I learned my new favorite term. Pageant Crack. Pageant Crack is in reality a pixi stick, which mom's on the pageant circuit give to their kids to enhance their performance. I find this A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! What I find even more A-M-A-Z-I-N-G is that for some kids the pageant crack doesn't work, so one mom has resorted to "go-go juice." It's actually a toss up which new word I like better. Pageant Crack or Go-Go juice. Both are pretty unbelievable. Go-Go juice is a unique concoction of Red Bull and Mountain Dew that you give to six year-olds, so they can keep their energy up to win child pageants. It's apparently perfectly safe and the inventor gave it a hearty endorsement, "<a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/life-style/health/toddlers-tiaras-mom-defends-giving-juice-pageant-crack-6-year-old-daughter-alana-article-1.1019164">There are far worse things. I could be giving her alcohol."</a><div>
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The same day I learned about the One Million Mom group who decided to attack Ellen because she's a lesbian and therefore is unfit to be JC Penny's spokesperson. Now, I have nothing personal against the Kardashians. I find them mildly entertaining, but I wonder why these million mom's took up a campaign against Ellen, who in addition to be a lesbian seems to be a pretty decent person. She is in a committed relationship, she works hard, she has talent, she uses her show to help others, she like animals and she dances. All in all I think she's a pretty stand-up human. In contrast the Kardashians are un-wed mothers, make a mockery of marriage, have no real talent other than their amazing ability to make whining, simpering and fighting entertaining to millions of bored teens and housewives. Why are they not boycotting Sears, who is home the Kardashians clothing line? If we are buying clothes and dryers based on morals, then I have to say, I gotta give the moral high ground to Ellen and JC Penny.</div>
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Just my opinion, but if I had to pick. I would rather raise an Ellen than a Kim.</div>
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Now, I have a job for these One Million Moms. Why don't you do us all a favor and stop this mom?Pediatricians and physicians who treat Type II diabetes will thank you.</div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvrq62GZAm4">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvrq62GZAm4</a>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-85297113530315652282012-01-31T16:34:00.002-04:002012-01-31T16:43:47.253-04:00The First Year<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;"> I’m pleased to report that, despite my initial
disbelief that anyone in their right mind or otherwise was going to allow us
(The Clarks – those irresponsible winos with no 401K) to have a baby, December
marked our daughter’s first birthday and our one year anniversary as
parents. I’m a believer in the written
word, and from the moment we officially became parents (I count this as the
moment I had to officially give up wine, so around week six of pregnancy) we’ve
written down wishes for our daughter. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Andalus;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">I
haven’t documented this year as well as I should have. The baby book is an
utter failure, and I never was organized enough to be one of those parents who
takes a picture of their child on their month birthday. However, I’ve been
thinking about all the things I wish I had known before plunging into
parenthood and decided to share.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Andalus;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">If
I’m honest, and I’ll try to be, no one can really prepare you. You just have to
live it, because despite all the books and internet research, that little
bugger is smarter than the author of <i>What
to Expect the First Year</i>. That being said, here is what I wish I had known
and what I’ve learned along the way.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Andalus;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">I
wish I had been more relaxed. Now, we were definitely those idiots who put their
five week old on a boat, the infamous Highland Fling II, and our first of many
outings was to Umbrella’s, the local beach bar. In fact, we became such
regulars our daughter could often be found in the kitchen perched on the owner’s
shoulder supervising. We continued to frequent the boatyard most Friday nights,
but despite trying to live our laid back Caribbean existence, I was an inward
stress case. I was never quite sure if I was doing it right and I often
questioned my competence as a mother. My friend Suzie summed it up best when
she said “Of course you are a good mother, you worry about your child. Bad
mothers don’t worry.” She’s right, and sometimes the one thing you need to
relax is someone to tell you, you are doing it right.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Andalus;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">In
this vein, let me pass on a piece of advice my friend Shannon gave me, which
was never correct your husband. Tell them one too many times they are doing it
wrong and you’ll never get another diaper change out of them again. I thought
this was good advice. I was terrified, but my husband was infinitely more
terrified, so let them do it their way and enjoy the diaper changes even if
they use an extraordinary amount of diaper rash cream.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Andalus;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">You
will love your husband more than you ever thought possible, however on certain
days, you will dislike him. Intensely. The same goes for your husband. The smug
looks you reserved for those harried looking mothers in the grocery store lines
have come back to haunt you. And no matter how many times you privately or
publicly vowed never to become one of those mothers, one day you will wake up
to find you are that mother, and you’ve even got the shrill, uptight voice to
go with the eye bags and unwashed, thinning hair. You’ll fight more in this
year, you’ll love better, and on the days of dislike sometimes it helps to look
at your little munchkin (preferably while sleeping and not while fishing your
engagement ring, bits of crayon and your 1099 out of her mouth) and think
together we created the most amazing individual. Think of all the beautiful
things we can do if we stick together.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">When
she was 4 weeks old we flew with our daughter from Virginia back to Grenada. It
was mind boggling stressful for us. She never made a peep. I was a nervous
wreck thinking of all the things that could go wrong. After a twelve hour day with
a baby strapped to my chest, we landed in Grenada and the Dutch guy in front of
me said “you’re lucky they are easy at that age.” I wanted to punch him. Partly
because he was Dutch and their efficiency has always irritated me, and partly
because did he not realize I had a 4 week old baby on a plane? What I later had
to admit was that he was right. Babies who are not mobile and in that sleepy
phase are very easy to do anything with and you should get out and do things,
because it does get a lot harder. However, if you are a first time parent you
don’t know this, and your stress and anxiety over your child crying, getting
sick etc…is so high nothing seems easy. He may have been right that a one month
old is much easier than a two year old on a plane, but there is nothing more irritating than a parent
saying to you “just wait til you get to this age,” while nodding in the
direction of their out -of- control, manic child. Nothing seems easy when you
are experiencing it for the first time., but at the risk of sounding like the
Dutch guy take that sleepy newborn baby out to dinner if you feel up to it,
because in a few months it’s a whole new ballgame.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">When
traveling, going to the grocery or just out for a walk you will bring enough
supplies to feed and outfit a small developing nation’s army. The amount of
stuff you have defies reason. Gone are the days when all you needed to travel
from one end of the island to the other were your sunglasses and a case of
carib. I don’t know when this ends. I imagine when they are thirty and you just
house all their junk in your attic. At least you don’t have to haul it around
any longer.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">There
are many theories on sleep. You have the “cry it out” camp, the sleep in the
bed til you are 12 school of thought and everything in between. I confess I couldn’t
cry it out. I visibly shook after twenty minutes of wailing. I just couldn’t do
it. We fell somewhere in between a certain amount of cry it out and a certain
amount of rocking, shushing etc… We found what works for us and have a baby who
sleeps through the night most nights. I don’t really know how we did it. The
only advice I can offer is do what you are comfortable with, and you’ll work it
out.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">I
made a hard and fast rule that there would be no babies in the bed. EVER! I had
yet to have a sick, child, company or extreme sleep deprivation. There will be
nights when they’ll weasel their way into bed, especially when sick. As with
most things in the first year, remember tomorrow is a new day and try again.
Also every hard and fast rule you made while pregnant is null and void once
baby appears on the scene.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">It
does not matter who gives you advice, your doctor, parent, friend or minister,
you will not believe them. You will go home and look up whatever your question
was in a book or on the internet. I don’t know why. You just will. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">There
is a certain amount of judgment that comes with parenting and I do try and keep
myself from being judgmental, but we’re all guilty of comparing, judging parenting
styles that are different to our own. I can keep a pretty open mind with regard
to pretty much anything except vaccinations. If you don’t vaccinate your child
I won’t let mine play with yours. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">No
one told me about RSV. I seriously may have reconsidered my choice to have
children had I known about this hideous virus. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">Frozen
blueberries are good for teething. Reportedly so is whisky, I’ve not figured
out if it’s good for mom or baby. Maybe both?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">You
will never really get a full night’s sleep. The minute they start sleeping
through the night you’ll be up checking if they are breathing. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Andalus;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">Everyone
wants to hold a baby til it cries. As a result of this you’ll spend 99% of your
time holding a baby that someone else has made cry. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">Nothing
last forever, if you are in a trying phase take a deep breath and know it will
pass. Sadly, the fun, easy phases pass just as quickly. Sometimes they pass a
lot more quickly than you would like.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">Food
is infinitely more interesting when it is on the floor. If your child refuses to eat I suggest you
dump the meal on the floor. Problem solved. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">The
other day someone told me you need two things to raise a child. Calpol (the
U.S. equivalent is Tylenol) and Grandparents. He may be right, and if so I can
stop the list here. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Andalus;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">It
doesn’t matter how much you prepare, how much you read, how many classes you go
to, you will in no way, shape or form be prepared for how much you’ll love your
child. Some days you’ll love them more than others, but the love you feel seems
to grow exponentially throughout the year, and I imagine over their lifetime. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">I’ll
steal a line from Elizabeth Stone as she said it better than I ever could. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Andalus;">“Making
the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your
heart go walking around outside your body.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-5813027896271475202011-11-30T17:01:00.001-04:002011-11-30T17:32:06.296-04:00Days 19 - 30 (Yikes)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I really am a hopeless failure at keeping up this blog. I started the month (eight days late) with the best of intentions to post what I was thankful for every day. That didn't happen and it's the last day of the month and I've got 12 days to account for. So here goes...<br />
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19. The Brilli's. My bestest friend and her husband who trekked down to not watch an SEC game, drink too much red wine and leave again in less than 48 hours. I love them and I miss her everyday.<br />
20. Not getting a job. At the time I wasn't thankful, in fact, it plunged me into a bit of a funk. but I've got a few more precious, hours, weeks, maybe months (double yikes) to spend with my sweet girl so that's a bonus.<br />
21. Wildlife rotation. John had a relatively easy research rotation, and it was so nice to have him home at a normal hour for a few weeks. It's over. And its back to an unpredictable schedule, but I enjoyed having my husband home while it lasted.<br />
22. Motrin. I've got a teething baby. I'm a fan.<br />
23. BB Guns. They kept the men in my family entertained for hours on end over Thanksgiving weekend. Brought out some serious male bonding!<br />
24. Thanksgiving. Turkey and all that jazz.<br />
25. Tacky Sweaters. My brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law had a tacky sweater engagement party. Was a hoot!<br />
26. Momma. Thankful for mine. She's a tough act to follow!<br />
27. Thankful that the 13 hour car journey from Virginia to Georgia is OVER! I now know what hell must be like. Think interstate 81 for eternity....<br />
28. Home again. I surprised myself when I woke up Monday and Athens felt good.<br />
29. The gym. Thankful I've got one and even use it some days.<br />
30. University Towns. I met one of my favorite authors today, Peter Godwin. He gave a talk at UGA. What a treat.<br />
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So, that does it. Lots to be thankful for in this month of thankfulness. I was a bit of a failure at this exercise and may have even said at one point during this month "what am I supposed to say when I don't feel thankful for anything." I may have said it teary and a tad bit dramatic...I'm glad I have a family who's supportive and amazing and reminds me that "when I don't feel thankful" well, really I'm just being a brat. Lots to be thankful for and my family tops the list.<br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-8511634806187189112011-11-18T18:44:00.001-04:002011-11-18T18:51:52.428-04:00Day 18: Helping Hands<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thankful for little hands and all they can accomplish!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-38790772743485667612011-11-17T17:20:00.001-04:002011-11-17T20:54:07.732-04:00Day 17: Baby Blues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm struggling today, to be thankful for anything. I think some days you just have those days. Where you just have a bit of a pity party and feel sorry for yourself. Party is in full swing and I actually don't want it to end. It's just easier to feel sorry for myself than buck up and get on with it. Where is my stiff upper lip British/Malawian husband when I need him? Sadly for myself, I do have to come up with something to be thankful for because I committed to a month of thankfulness. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I'm worried it's gonna end my party...<br />
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I'll be thankful for what I am thankful for everyday of my life since she arrived. My sweet daughter.<br />
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It's not been easy since we arrived in Athens. I don't love it, some days I don't even like it. On those days I feel like throwing in the towel. I don't because I have this.<br />
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<br />
And this face makes everything seem better.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIrCDDveeAEI1Oxwm0b-AnXbCiEkNT5xjZxTduNDBdl3EZXSpEV5oqDd2BhwYuV4ku-7tARIC8EGTZEaPD8wxFilSThwG6V8azJATN817Wm548StIxkToBbxC4HA2KQfrWh8Z56olhOs/s1600/Bike+Pics+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIrCDDveeAEI1Oxwm0b-AnXbCiEkNT5xjZxTduNDBdl3EZXSpEV5oqDd2BhwYuV4ku-7tARIC8EGTZEaPD8wxFilSThwG6V8azJATN817Wm548StIxkToBbxC4HA2KQfrWh8Z56olhOs/s320/Bike+Pics+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I also have this face. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06GLQvMe91PVfsvWp9NjiH0U63EVi-ODmZLbys5mDZ79LMGvcotcqc6-DjM1qQYyJ4OSwQ9o1yVuY_xnErXng8_VMUHywpvdIpcT4tCwFRzQb8HEvt9bAFAARZmIhBZsTQcjef423_pQ/s1600/Johno+Surgery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06GLQvMe91PVfsvWp9NjiH0U63EVi-ODmZLbys5mDZ79LMGvcotcqc6-DjM1qQYyJ4OSwQ9o1yVuY_xnErXng8_VMUHywpvdIpcT4tCwFRzQb8HEvt9bAFAARZmIhBZsTQcjef423_pQ/s320/Johno+Surgery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
And every year I am married to him gets better. Even the hard ones, like this one, are better in their own unique way. So, that's it. Pity Party over. Back on track for a month of thankfulness. Thanks to these two faces.<br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-68988124135031110302011-11-14T15:13:00.001-04:002011-11-16T14:53:00.398-04:00Day 12, 13 and 14: Thankfullness X 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thankful for a busy weekend where I was too busy to blog. Busy with good friends, football and drinks in front of the fire. That's all I've got for the moment. The cold I've come down with has left me blah....but thankful it's only a cold.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-17143552036955021752011-11-11T10:42:00.001-04:002011-11-11T10:58:27.306-04:00Day 11: 11.11.11. Make a Wish<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thoughts of wishes conjure up images of birthday candles, circles of children tightly packed against one another as they sing and dance with excitement and tightly squeezed eyes as the birthday boy or girl inhales then exhales to make their wish. Why do we only wish on birthdays, or when the clock strikes 11.11 or on days that come around once a century? What is it about these occasions that give us permission to dream, to wish and hope it will come true. They say don't tell anyone or your wish won't come true. I think say, write, shout and do it and anything you want will come true.<br />
<br />
My daughter is about to have her first birthday, and we'll all pack tightly around her and watch with anticipation, while she likely stares overwhelmed at her first taste of chocolate, and we'll wonder, what, if anything is she wishing. Probably for us to get out of her face....the precursor to the teen years...<br />
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What I wish for her, for me and for us all on this day that only comes around once a century is that we remember to wish, dream and do every day. To let our birthday candles burn year round rather than snuff them out with just one wish. I love this quote and wish I remembered to apply it to my own life more often.<br />
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<blockquote cite="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0060927488/skdesigns/" title="Quote from A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles. By Marianne Williamson. Pg. 190-191.">
<div class="t1">
<span class="qo">“</span>Our
deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we
are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that
most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you <em>not</em> to be? You are a
child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is
nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel
insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were
born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just
in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we
unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are
liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates
others.<span class="qc">” Marianne Williamson</span></div>
</blockquote>
<br />
Happy wishing on 11.11.11 and the rest of the year! <br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-89302377890705891792011-11-10T17:04:00.001-04:002011-11-10T17:06:04.862-04:00Day 10: Thanks for the Memories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxkq6B-JCNA-cMsfpddIo4vjl4D6tziVuX6Kzhk5g_woJI8b4pf4NIJ_sQdN1LYURlk5lHbVxV5MtpweJG467Pd03f5jP2O1kOc2rAIs1jZdtKLqLb-65crpqtN6mLU83XH_ucnMlEhw/s1600/25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxkq6B-JCNA-cMsfpddIo4vjl4D6tziVuX6Kzhk5g_woJI8b4pf4NIJ_sQdN1LYURlk5lHbVxV5MtpweJG467Pd03f5jP2O1kOc2rAIs1jZdtKLqLb-65crpqtN6mLU83XH_ucnMlEhw/s320/25.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm often reminded of my former life. The one where I was 'living the
dream' as a beach bum, yogi, wine swilling Caribbean housewife. Those
days are temporarily over, and I've spent the last six months in an
extended mourning period. I think its only natural I miss Grenada. It's
the island were we got married, had a baby, lost a scooter, lost car
tires, gained lifelong friends, learned to lime, failed to wine and had
at least 17 mechanics in our employ to keep the world's most expensive
piece of tin running. <br />
<br />
While we were living the dream, we along with countless other families, were fortunate enough to have <a href="http://ashleywillisphotography.blogspot.com/">Ashley Willis</a>
document our dream. Today I'm thankful for Ashley's amazing talent and
her ability to capture some of the sweetest memories in a snapshot.
Ashley photographed me eight months pregnant and made me look glam. Now
that is sheer genius at work to be able to do that!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggq-BXeAo7aFNZOkGrrhvr2fF0BfLTr4UcfvW-zm4shur1BWRgrvV9ihgiahGfrgB_sfnHcwJibzgfRP2Z27G1UfINYglMLYDOgojGdM-Z7y2rqt-g2LMG7FmMkJvia-DPDWBG-28Fi4/s1600/2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggq-BXeAo7aFNZOkGrrhvr2fF0BfLTr4UcfvW-zm4shur1BWRgrvV9ihgiahGfrgB_sfnHcwJibzgfRP2Z27G1UfINYglMLYDOgojGdM-Z7y2rqt-g2LMG7FmMkJvia-DPDWBG-28Fi4/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
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She photographed our new family and was somehow able
to capture the sweet first months of parenthood in a single shot. Her
talent, beauty and positive attitude amaze and inspire me. In addition
to being just about the most fantastic photographer out there, she is a
fantastic writer and her blog makes me laugh and occasionally makes me
cry. Everyone should read this <a href="http://diamondsoles.blogspot.com/2011/10/late-bloomers-and-art-of-reinvention.html">entry</a> about her desire for a bambino of her own. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizH7NzgZw_A0ayMsKu7K6q_H7tUMZPtw0mQ2pLGQi6HjqIVfrKUZiu42gqNNu7MqDXrSidsGJR8fl0SFYK2VKi-GL36UDJcCObRxY8T_zJVQ8RRnbZZflLcFV8xv3XQ0RtCWOFBZlOO5Q/s1600/1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizH7NzgZw_A0ayMsKu7K6q_H7tUMZPtw0mQ2pLGQi6HjqIVfrKUZiu42gqNNu7MqDXrSidsGJR8fl0SFYK2VKi-GL36UDJcCObRxY8T_zJVQ8RRnbZZflLcFV8xv3XQ0RtCWOFBZlOO5Q/s320/1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm thankful for Ashley. Her talent, honesty, candor and beauty
are inspirational. I'm not sure why her bundle of joy is taking so long
to get to here, but perhaps for the moment she's being used as an
inspiration to many, and when her one, two, three or four do arrive
they'll be able to see just how special she is.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm thankful for the beautiful memories that hang on my wall as a
constant reminder of our island life, and I'm thankful for sweet souls
like, Ashley, who share their talent and their struggles. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-40436202303451184622011-11-09T11:40:00.001-04:002011-11-09T11:43:04.922-04:00Day 9<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Looks like I'm officially on track for this month of thankfulness. I'm thankful for the last several months that I've been able to work from home and not have to leave this sweet face....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmxcTDUkbvsE7htJsnSenjTvM_wcY1GGCdgGq42aYfbPxxE9zXtpIizIXtG25IhVoXdwwGvLiREDmNm5kRUWpJ0p6R5q7YXEiw8RIyMHO78FEETb_SWdTR7AjVoeyItd9Hs-ZRkKWXUY/s1600/Halloween+%25231+064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmxcTDUkbvsE7htJsnSenjTvM_wcY1GGCdgGq42aYfbPxxE9zXtpIizIXtG25IhVoXdwwGvLiREDmNm5kRUWpJ0p6R5q7YXEiw8RIyMHO78FEETb_SWdTR7AjVoeyItd9Hs-ZRkKWXUY/s320/Halloween+%25231+064.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>I worked for <a href="http://skadaddlemedia.com/about/">Skaddadle Media</a> out of California and a nicer bunch of folks you could not find.<br />
<br />
Here's the project I worked on. This makes me thankful for companies like Windstream who inspire our kids to get out and do amazing things in their community. If you can vote for one of these schools to win $25,000.<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_847869029"><br />
</a><br />
<a href="http://schoolswin.windstream.com/finalists">http://schoolswin.windstream.com/finalists</a><br />
<br />
Thanks Windstream and Skedaddle for allowing me to stay home and enjoy almost 11 months with my sweet girl. These moments are priceless.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsWSXbU9ZhVvRt1qC-wQnz_kVdaTNhuHblMj-rqpSP1UyEARsftKID6i-cUYsFiNaI49UxfpSAGLWnZ_k29sETM01ux20Bz6GOllZcD8abe53j_1mRcD5R_He7-5jqX3nlp2ol0YFb9g/s1600/CCC+and+Mom+laughing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsWSXbU9ZhVvRt1qC-wQnz_kVdaTNhuHblMj-rqpSP1UyEARsftKID6i-cUYsFiNaI49UxfpSAGLWnZ_k29sETM01ux20Bz6GOllZcD8abe53j_1mRcD5R_He7-5jqX3nlp2ol0YFb9g/s320/CCC+and+Mom+laughing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-77661606948352973892011-11-08T15:47:00.001-04:002011-11-08T15:53:32.742-04:00Gratitude x 8<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It's November and I haven't written in months. No real reason, I've been busy, I've been lazy, I've got nothing to say the list goes on and on....<br />
<br />
I've noticed that people are posting things they are grateful for throughout the month of November. As usual I'm behind the eight ball. We are eight days into this exercise and I am eight days behind. So here goes...Here are my eight blessings.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>1) Guilty of eavesdropping, I listened to my husband reading bedtime stories to our daughter. It made me smile, and made me laugh that one book turned into eight. It also made me think that some of the best memories of my life will be ones she will never remember, but I'll never forget the sweet sounds of daddy and daughter bed time stories.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-JdJ69wq9HGscWluA0CUeYhSz771xs8W7zqTNtPDclQV9gsgvTDc7lIVW1FEW2M22-MWwHK7RhZboeP8L5nfpcir8z3ibfsuLWtFDM7lMA2YPK-0TXNcAur9i-sGzf7TKj6T0nz6QAQ/s1600/charlie+athens+6-7+months+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-JdJ69wq9HGscWluA0CUeYhSz771xs8W7zqTNtPDclQV9gsgvTDc7lIVW1FEW2M22-MWwHK7RhZboeP8L5nfpcir8z3ibfsuLWtFDM7lMA2YPK-0TXNcAur9i-sGzf7TKj6T0nz6QAQ/s320/charlie+athens+6-7+months+046.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad and Charlie sharing a giggle</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>2) Visitors. We've been blessed with many, and throughout the somewhat difficult transition from Grenada to Athens they've often been my salvation. Giving me something to look forward to, weekends filled with belly laughter and a reminder to be thankful for the people in our life that make it infinitely better!<br />
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<br />
3) Clyde and Jack. Our first visitors . A visit which included a few days of bad behavior and reminiscing about the good ole days in Grenada. A southerner with a slow melodic voice, he reminded me of home in Grenada, and now that we're back 'home' a visit from him reminds me of the things we loved. Lazy island days, too many caribs and a little mischief...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6lFel_VqECydfx63NliRSExcURpYTVrCrODsue55R26-2mO23Cix0wX2dWHwv-NYBHzld1zseDCviFl4RmzQlYVSfSE0U3KGK8Nukw64qz7JmV5YCsTQvEYN0je9iJl0vgunmMOQibJg/s1600/charlie+athens+6-7+months+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6lFel_VqECydfx63NliRSExcURpYTVrCrODsue55R26-2mO23Cix0wX2dWHwv-NYBHzld1zseDCviFl4RmzQlYVSfSE0U3KGK8Nukw64qz7JmV5YCsTQvEYN0je9iJl0vgunmMOQibJg/s320/charlie+athens+6-7+months+038.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack and Charlie seem to both be wondering where is the sea?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
4) Serena and Andy. Two of the most generous and sweet people you'll ever meet. They housed us in Grenada and Serena, always kept us hydrated. We're grateful they took time off the island to come and play for awhile in our new hood.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLtR2sOvqeJR8BZnIQLJ7aXEw8wwwA5OnxmINLGe0iAPU3wRfSNUN03SmxfTSidrl9ajGuOKG_RPucUGiE_HneiPz_XXalvrQK2OJmccnTbYEShUPn4-3CnHw-9wekg8wcaP3hfskXaI/s1600/aquarium+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLtR2sOvqeJR8BZnIQLJ7aXEw8wwwA5OnxmINLGe0iAPU3wRfSNUN03SmxfTSidrl9ajGuOKG_RPucUGiE_HneiPz_XXalvrQK2OJmccnTbYEShUPn4-3CnHw-9wekg8wcaP3hfskXaI/s320/aquarium+025.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Couldn't find any photos of their visit must be on John' computer, but love this one of Andy and Charlie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
5) James and Kathryn. My brother and soon - to - be - sister - in - law. They got us back into the tradition of SEC football. We tailgated and cheered for the dawgs and spending time with them made me grateful Kathryn Harris will soon be Kathryn Harris Harris!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vsm_w-8hrqeTsjEMoti-MyF5gI6lhTQEeNpmkyQnEejZiV0ZN1HkHDvpKfhzXpXKnxSEfIrd2dnWHRrr74IGBI2AbRC_8ruCPLDKIsbXnLt-ra91CYdIsnJsWZNOK_wvjaaaAU5_0hI/s1600/328035_10100171933156386_1511106_47826083_1520399658_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vsm_w-8hrqeTsjEMoti-MyF5gI6lhTQEeNpmkyQnEejZiV0ZN1HkHDvpKfhzXpXKnxSEfIrd2dnWHRrr74IGBI2AbRC_8ruCPLDKIsbXnLt-ra91CYdIsnJsWZNOK_wvjaaaAU5_0hI/s320/328035_10100171933156386_1511106_47826083_1520399658_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Dawg Walk a UGA tradition</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>6) Devin and Christine. Two of my all time favorite people even if they are Canadian. :) They are interesting, funny, lovely, generous, sweet, well traveled and well...sizzled. We laughed and ate then ate some more. Devin may be one of the best cooks on the planet and it's a pleasure to eat his food. In Grenada we had a Sunday date most Sundays, and the weekend they spent with us reminded me of those happy times. I miss them, but know our paths will cross again soon and I can't wait to see where it does...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xbSbkeOUrJkT3_cN35rTx4L1hVWQGO7-EWr03bM491jhm8ssRPTVsDr0EKxiKhD2nmsv6DI01Ygd9oIZO87JsDmdHxoLGAUFN9gxf8oS0T5nKPae6gizHE-MpNep2dAnYWoeHy1IbBc/s1600/315074_10150328948023424_636133423_8344549_1521837300_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xbSbkeOUrJkT3_cN35rTx4L1hVWQGO7-EWr03bM491jhm8ssRPTVsDr0EKxiKhD2nmsv6DI01Ygd9oIZO87JsDmdHxoLGAUFN9gxf8oS0T5nKPae6gizHE-MpNep2dAnYWoeHy1IbBc/s320/315074_10150328948023424_636133423_8344549_1521837300_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A vineyard in North Georgia...who knew...wine was crap...company fantastic</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
7) Shannon, Justin and Colin. Shannon and Justin will and go go anywhere and everywhere. They came to see me in Zambia, traveled to Grenada to be part of our wedding when Shan was 7 months pregnant. They are constants in our lives and give me the strength to embark on new adventures, because I know wherever we go there they will be. They inspire me, make me laugh and I love them and their sweet growing family. There will be another little Offen in December and this baby is fortunate to have some of the coolest parents and the best big brother you could ask for.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6oBi9fFqwNqDRv9qnDZVQqO2OrUXzzHA1Lp7h4AsfFLL8YqhHVO1FWs2GF15azPvinLEL5E0OduL0eZFEVt-iOKDUophShOLi-nWOiHFEXHQbB7JFTd-wL4J0UgC3IeRZPqefWsreao/s1600/Colin+and+Charlie+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6oBi9fFqwNqDRv9qnDZVQqO2OrUXzzHA1Lp7h4AsfFLL8YqhHVO1FWs2GF15azPvinLEL5E0OduL0eZFEVt-iOKDUophShOLi-nWOiHFEXHQbB7JFTd-wL4J0UgC3IeRZPqefWsreao/s320/Colin+and+Charlie+021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
8) Caleb + Dad and family. Recently we celebrated my brother Caleb's 30th and my Dad's 57th! It was a great weekend and our home was filled with laughter, children and former UGA football players who made our tiny house seem well, minuscule. I have to include a shout out to MC. Who is a fantastic aunt and baby sitter!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgpJeefjwb7SafhKGfFBaGrOeoiZNVeu2l_7stE6QUlhMeXtUEyhz-pqg0EF3TtcyKRou2f-jeckjvX3G-a1Ru5hW-KSTWz7sdA7RVLVi_oSDAZeYnnP9A8FccUtqtYz0YFsZgFwXsE0/s1600/Dalton+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgpJeefjwb7SafhKGfFBaGrOeoiZNVeu2l_7stE6QUlhMeXtUEyhz-pqg0EF3TtcyKRou2f-jeckjvX3G-a1Ru5hW-KSTWz7sdA7RVLVi_oSDAZeYnnP9A8FccUtqtYz0YFsZgFwXsE0/s320/Dalton+076.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harris/Clark girls</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
These are my eight. A sweet husband and daughter who spend time together. Several sets of friends and family who have brightened our lives these last few months. The list goes on and on and I'll keep updating it this month but THANK YOU to these individuals for your love and support and for making me laugh til my belly hurts.<br />
<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-21985197590911482702011-08-16T22:28:00.000-04:002011-08-16T22:28:51.663-04:00Beauty Lessons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I've taken a break from my blog, mainly because after a move from paradise and a visit to one of my favorite places on earth (the Luangwa Valley) I've been sweating it out in hot Georgia with no ocean or Highland Fling II and have been a little miserable and very mental. So in an effort to keep from getting myself committed I've kept mum. I'm happy to say I'm starting to come out of my funk and be a grown up and deal with it.<br />
<br />
About a week ago, in very grown up fashion I ran home to momma in Virginia. I realized two things: mom's do make things better and Sunday's without Highland Fling II do kind of suck.<br />
<br />
So what do miserable/mental women do to make themselves feel better. Well, pedicures of course. It's amazing what you learn in the pedicure chair. Usually I learn about important things like the Kardashians. However take a baby with you and you'll learn all sorts of interesting things. Beyond the general parenting advice that everyone loves to dish out I did hear a "new" old wives tale. Apparently if your baby has one fat role on his or her legs your next baby will be a boy. If they have two fat rolls then your next baby will be a girl. More than two is anybody's guess...Now I wonder if this gender game applies to mom's thighs as well?<br />
<br />
<br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-34218717866357118762011-07-19T09:40:00.000-04:002011-07-19T09:40:01.513-04:00ConfessionI'm not catholic so I don't go to confession...I'm a lapsed baptist, but really not much of anything these days which is becoming very uncomfortable in the Bible Belt as I've been asked about our 'church family' by everyone and I mean everyone. I had a 5 minute uncomfortable conversion experience when I tried to buy a night stand off craig's list. Somehow explaining the 'Church of Highland Fling II' might not go over so well in these parts...but I digress. I'm not catholic or religious but I've got a few things to fess up to or get off my chest.<br />
<br />
We've been back in the States over a month now and I can't seem to settle in. I love my country but not sure I like living in it.<br />
<br />
I hate K-mart I think it's run by rednecks and organized by the president of the trailer park association. It's disorganized and dusty (actually sounds a little like my house) and I can never find anything. I should love it for the people watching opportunities alone, but I hate it and I make no apologies.<br />
<br />
I do however love Wal-mart as it has the same clientele but a tad bit smarter employee. I must look like a K-mart shopper though as yesterday when asking a Wal-mart employee where the face wash aisle was located she said , "cosmetics" and I said "thanks, where would that be" and she very slowly and deliberately said "that means make-up" and shook her head as if to say "go back to K-mart you ignoramus."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Other things I don't like about the South or the US in general are snotty stores. Today I had a job interview of sorts...which means I convinced the head of a department to meet with me, but she actually has no job to offer me. So, when this fake interview was lined up I scrambled to find a sitter. The fake interview then was switched to a new day but having asked the sitter to reorganize her entire schedule I figured I better not cancel.I used my two baby free hours to run a few errands and then wandered into one of those stores where everything is monogrammed. I'm southern. I like monogrammed things. I have a cheese platter a necklace and several bags with monograms so I've been into a few of these stores in my time, but I forgot what I dislike about them is the sales lady with the insincere perma smile and pearl earrings and the name dropping, social climbing clientele that these places attract. After my frosty greeting by pearl earrings I heard no less than seven times that the lily pulitzer clad woman was there to pick up invitations for so and so, head of the junior league... and then I heard all about her fabulous condo in gulf shores. I couldn't help myself I just couldn't...I may have let it slip that we just moved back from the Caribbean and it was so hard to leave our "waterfront property..." While waterfront is not a stretch, the cement hot box with the gorgeous view that we lived in; I have to confess is not what I portrayed. Why I felt the need to compete with this woman I have no idea. I think maybe just because I found her so over the top annoying, but I should have just given her a steups (a brilliant Caribbean sucking sound that means piss off) and moved on. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2ukl979tkRmQKnd-gX74p7esD6eNSe9vyL8hYEnUbXbC8JtILrunBqd7sqmpjG4InOc5CW98sZ-JBcZPvnz8QnrTIlSgOxcGxYhEqvv90xRugqZU4tZj3gnZlg7pDdrOlrPg2K8eZRc/s1600/only+in+africa+148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2ukl979tkRmQKnd-gX74p7esD6eNSe9vyL8hYEnUbXbC8JtILrunBqd7sqmpjG4InOc5CW98sZ-JBcZPvnz8QnrTIlSgOxcGxYhEqvv90xRugqZU4tZj3gnZlg7pDdrOlrPg2K8eZRc/s320/only+in+africa+148.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two of the Seventeen we saw</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
While I am confessing I also had no intention of buying monogrammed stationary for Charlie. With no job paying the sitter was going to be tight so the reason I didn't buy the overpriced stationary was not because "you don't have anything with giraffe's? she's loved giraffe's since she saw 17 on safari. " It is more because we have about 17 dollars in the checking account...<br />
<br />
Speaking of jobs I am searching for one and I forgot how much I hate job searching. It's made worse by the fact I don't actually want one. Well I do, I want the money and I want something to do in addition to singing itsy bitsy spider several times a day but the thought of leaving my daughter causes me to break into a cold sweat and hot tears.<br />
<br />
Last confession of the day is when visiting the anxiety inducing childcare facility last Friday I may have had a tiny hangover due to too many margaritas the night before.<br />
<br />
<br />
Since I'm not Catholic there should be no penance. However, I've done mine. Watching a seven month old with a hangover was it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-77325104445496439522011-07-05T21:32:00.000-04:002011-07-05T21:32:02.481-04:00Recycled<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I posted this a while back but John made me take it down as he thought we might get kicked out of the country...now we are gone I'll post it again because my goal is to post more, however I am too lazy to come up with something new tonight. Maybe I should see if there are any openings in the immigration department...<br />
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Last week I had the pleasure of packing up Charlie and trekking up to the Botanical Gardens, which is a bit of a misnomer as its actually a badly planned concrete maze of hideously ugly government buildings without a flower in site. It is also the home of the always hospitable immigration officials. I have been dreading this trip since we landed on the island and the blank faced,money hungry immigration official at the airport granted Charlie and me a three month visa instead of the five month visa they gave John.<br />
<br />
Last week our three months were up and it was time to pay the head blank faced official a visit. I can't really describe how nasty these people can be. They don't speak they really just bark in some sort of pigeon English, they won't look you in the eye, likely because they are on some level embarrassed by the abuse of their limited power, and they hide behind a beaten up metal door bearing a sign that says 'knock and wait." What the sign should really say is "don't bother knocking because we only open the door when we feel like it." On second thought it should just say "WAIT, we will open the door only after you've been sitting there clueless for hours and we've had our tea and made several long distance phone calls to the USA where our relatives are living illegally. We will be prepared to harass, interrogate and abuse you only after your blood pressure has reached the boiling point and you are forced to speak in grunts through gritted teeth less you unleash your pent up aggression on us and we then will deny you an extension of your visa."<br />
<br />
I was not looking forward to this experience and really could not bear the thought of doing it with a baby. I walked into to depressing govt. building A and saw the typical confusion. Bored and broken looking yachtys, students and peace corps workers were lounged all over the place. There was no line and the woman behind the glass counter was ignoring everyone. I filled out my forms and knocked on the scary door and a blank faced minion answered the door and, then the unthinkable happened. I thought to myself "is there a trace of a smile on this blank faced androids lips? Oh my goodness I think there is." I look at my daughter who is staring intently at probably the first emotionless human she has ever encountered.<br />
<br />
Before I knew it we were whisked back to the woman in charge and this nasty, bitter, power hungry woman engaged in the most shocking piece of behavior I have ever encountered in an immigration office and started cooing at my daughter. I swear to you I almost dropped Charlie from the shock of some emotion coming from an immigration officer.<br />
<br />
Now was the moment of truth. Would Charlie take after dad who has a long history of abusing public "servants." There was an incident at the Zambian border a few years back which involved threats of "languishing in the cell." Or, would she take after her mother who is so petrified of these people I bribed them with tubes of Colgate and bottles of red wine during my stint in Zambia. Inwardly I am thinking please smile at this woman whatever you do do not give her your 1,000 yard stare. She is extending the olive branch. Please, please smile.<br />
<br />
And my girl is her momma's girl. Big grins prevailed. The next thing I knew we were being stamped , approved and I was looking at pictures of this woman's children. Who lived, you got it, in the USA.<br />
<br />
So after four years living abroad, countless tubes of Colgate dispensed and a layer of enamel missing from my gritted teeth, I have figured out the formula for cracking the toughest of immigration officials. A baby. Charlie and I set a new record. The whole process took 37 minutes.<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-50167420293211008822011-04-28T11:55:00.000-04:002011-04-28T11:55:11.049-04:00Goals<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">We are starting the long and daunting process of packing up our lives and preparing to move to the next phase. I'm not going to expound on my feelings about leaving. Will save that for another post but, to borrow a uniquely British expression. I am "gutted" to be leaving.<br />
<br />
So back to the packing. It, to use a uniquely American expression "sucks." Enough said.<br />
<br />
While packing we came across a list of goals that we made during our first week of marriage. I think the plan was to make goals every 6 months and have a sort of "state of our union" meeting and check in with each other. Like most things that are started with the best of intentions; that first state of the union goal session was our last. But what was surprising was that most of the major goals we had set for ourselves have been or are on their way to being accomplished. Some of course were not...and some we are a bit ahead of. Start family summer of 2011 can be crossed off! Some things on that list are funny...kind of what were we thinking when we wanted to do that, and some need extended deadlines and a few goals are lifelong works in progress.<br />
<br />
Next goal. Stop procrastinating, get packed so we can move ourselves to the US via Malawi without losing our minds. "Please God." As they say in Grenada.<br />
<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-62652761488646144112011-04-22T13:58:00.001-04:002011-04-22T14:02:47.962-04:00Wish for Motherhood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgNvuUflef3JeJTtfFZy6MDqtZh8gaKXisy1kJNN_87GST2B_5bbHIL8IRkbDov53xW-sIdVDUbWkrkHGoABhlgYYsJZfcBpqGrk9OhcQVOuwz4pobWQDOajEruy9n4AyhVj69QxYJ1s/s1600/26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgNvuUflef3JeJTtfFZy6MDqtZh8gaKXisy1kJNN_87GST2B_5bbHIL8IRkbDov53xW-sIdVDUbWkrkHGoABhlgYYsJZfcBpqGrk9OhcQVOuwz4pobWQDOajEruy9n4AyhVj69QxYJ1s/s320/26.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
As a recent mother I am just figuring this whole thing out but with mother's day approaching thought I would put together a wish list for my journey through motherhood. So here goes...<br />
<br />
If my child is not the star of the school play, little league team, debate team, little tumblers etc...grant me the good grace to sit through it with a smile on my lips and a look of feigned interest on my face.<br />
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If she is the star of the show let me display the appropriate amount of pride and hide the smug look confirming what I have known since birth...that my child really is head and shoulders above the rest. <br />
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If the day comes that she does not make the cheerleading squad, first obo player or captain of the debate team let me comfort her with just the right words without turning texas cheerleader story mother...because I might just have a little bit of that in me.<br />
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Grant me the right balance of involved mom but, if I become helicopter mom someone shoot me down with a scud missile because everyone hates those parents.<br />
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When she is thirteen and doesn't want to be seen at the mall with me shopping for her first boy/girl dance outfit; grant me the patience to know that one day when we are shopping for a much more important dress she will turn to me beaming in white for approval and, I'll take her hand and cry when someone slips a veil on her head.<br />
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Grant me the good sense to know that being the "cool" mom is not as important as being a mom. <br />
<br />
When she is old enough to have a drink with her friends and her mother, let me know when to call it quits. At no time do I ever want to have my name and Stifler's mom in the same sentence.<br />
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When my Friday nights turn into happy hour at family friendly restaurants let me know that I've been there done that and any club in NYC that would have me on a list now would not be worth going to anyway.<br />
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Give me the strength to let my child go and rest assured that if I have done my job right she will always come back. <br />
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Do not let my love for my child blind me. If I'm raising a mean girl I want to know.<br />
<br />
Please don't let me raise a mean girl.<br />
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When my child comes home with someone special to her let me love him because she does and, remember that love comes in all sorts of shapes sizes and opinions.<br />
<br />
Make me resentment free and at no time in the long journey that is motherhood let my frustration show. My inadequacies as a human should never be felt by my child. When they are give us both another dose of forgiveness.<br />
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Let me know when to ask for help and when I am strong enough to do it on my own.<br />
<br />
In the wee hours of the morning when it's just the two of us let me cherish the time but,give me permission to know its ok that I think my child might actually be a terrorist trained in the art of sleep deprivation.<br />
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Give me a good sense of humor because at 3 in the morning sometimes laughter is the only medicine.<br />
<br />
When I am tired and cranky and have had enough let me treat my husband with respect and love because how she sees me treat her dad will be how she treats others.<br />
<br />
Let me remember that I was a wife first and if we break our marriage we'll break our daughter.<br />
<br />
Grant us both a heaping dose of forgiveness. We will both make mistakes, often big ones but, if we can forgive we can learn and motherhood like life is nothing but a continual learning process.<br />
<br />
I hope one day she'll feel the amazing awe inspiring love that mothers feel and somewhere in the first few weeks of sleep deprivation, angst and spit up she'll know what I know now. No one loves you like your mother.<br />
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<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-41334716970790239522011-04-21T16:52:00.000-04:002011-04-21T16:52:08.241-04:00Unexpected Similarities<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">They say a picture speaks a thousand words. Well....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAj6sWxCbaLHaGUBX1k0kfLoQdjMWy1-J3SCk3A5ymBeWoNCER3f5jvBWJ5ihad6XW7JZt518hNJThyotJ_fhD3xYjKDClFknYuwl13ofsE4pLbvYuuzupIEf4qOobwbQs4PCq0SVzLfg/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAj6sWxCbaLHaGUBX1k0kfLoQdjMWy1-J3SCk3A5ymBeWoNCER3f5jvBWJ5ihad6XW7JZt518hNJThyotJ_fhD3xYjKDClFknYuwl13ofsE4pLbvYuuzupIEf4qOobwbQs4PCq0SVzLfg/s320/11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This pose reminded me of this one...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsbFQCg389tFsR3SSVN83pMKdKRr-9RdUSBgtZ-zl7DldtWFSYTEuGkuFkeVGgxwjTOU6PS8SXhqZKkJMDFX99I9ZGPqXg3-RJ5y7P9_2uzysPJumFbptK9WhAGlOo29nkQ-gMVmuCvgc/s1600/george_costanza015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsbFQCg389tFsR3SSVN83pMKdKRr-9RdUSBgtZ-zl7DldtWFSYTEuGkuFkeVGgxwjTOU6PS8SXhqZKkJMDFX99I9ZGPqXg3-RJ5y7P9_2uzysPJumFbptK9WhAGlOo29nkQ-gMVmuCvgc/s320/george_costanza015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-6231128326677647632011-04-12T11:16:00.000-04:002011-04-12T11:16:48.244-04:00Baby Essentials<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8sybgdSpxIUJhFiEaEyCzBvbh2YExeSJdHAtxkP9Kxb8fE0I87hTUdw1cGPLNy-art4S4yoqyxOQVOPqYNmjzZkyC4ORsAwGyJbba6Z_BoJDbGhy01wMl-xdJh1yJy7kNlY4iP3oNe4s/s1600/Katie%2527s+Bach+118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8sybgdSpxIUJhFiEaEyCzBvbh2YExeSJdHAtxkP9Kxb8fE0I87hTUdw1cGPLNy-art4S4yoqyxOQVOPqYNmjzZkyC4ORsAwGyJbba6Z_BoJDbGhy01wMl-xdJh1yJy7kNlY4iP3oNe4s/s320/Katie%2527s+Bach+118.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back When I read Vogue and bottle service meant something entirely different!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
I'm struggling with this next post because it just seems so "momish" and feels a little bit loserish. As a side note I realize momish and loserish are not real words but, they were definitely adjectives I used when I was 25! Anyway, not sure when the transition happens but it has slowly been creeping in. I noticed it first at the magazine stand this summer I beelined to the pregnancy section and Vogue only came as an after thought. I know that action may be sacrilegious.... What to Expect When You are Expecting replaced the latest book off the NY Times best seller list. I have a lot (more than I would care to admit) of conversations about sleep, poop and eating patterns. But what I am about to do is totally uncool, very momish and when I was 25 I would have proclaimed myself a total loser!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IxsKs5ziNSS0QfKq0C8VzWn7VQFy26yiGDESQOijs7H8ceFyR0zcRMhTbfIBdau9L0lkaYcDMaL9Vtjt9eMmhyphenhyphenmsmKjARZ37_hiReuy8Svw1cLWhn2iD7woVCxrwqWL-b-KWhDebib0/s1600/Ashley+Baby+shots+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IxsKs5ziNSS0QfKq0C8VzWn7VQFy26yiGDESQOijs7H8ceFyR0zcRMhTbfIBdau9L0lkaYcDMaL9Vtjt9eMmhyphenhyphenmsmKjARZ37_hiReuy8Svw1cLWhn2iD7woVCxrwqWL-b-KWhDebib0/s320/Ashley+Baby+shots+1.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being a Mom is lovely.</td></tr>
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A lot of my girlfriends are getting pregnant and starting that really scary and daunting process of registering. I've sent this list to a few friends and thought I would post it for future mothers. Things you'll need for the first few months. I know I had several anxiety attacks when trying to navigate Babies R' Us so hope this helps.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow , sans-serif;"><b> BABY ESSENTIALS</b></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIDHbiPVxyx4Oz5OCEFE82o28ie-M6WmQ1mXkKLOuocHba4RLV3tNoN2WjWFk45RuSjptdqUSxeFXeAr4vxR2B0pEBmGnjrzhjLC2F7V4Avy9HlApOuZy6SKVXv0qK9sCWidoI7AJdSI/s1600/Nursery+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIDHbiPVxyx4Oz5OCEFE82o28ie-M6WmQ1mXkKLOuocHba4RLV3tNoN2WjWFk45RuSjptdqUSxeFXeAr4vxR2B0pEBmGnjrzhjLC2F7V4Avy9HlApOuZy6SKVXv0qK9sCWidoI7AJdSI/s320/Nursery+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where you put all this baby lo</td></tr>
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1)<b> Swaddling Blankets</b> <b><a href="http://www.adenandanais.com/">http://www.adenandanais.com/</a></b> These are the BEST and you can get them at Target. I would also register at Target as well as Baby's R Us<br />
2) The <b>DVD</b> The <b>Happiest Baby on the Block</b>. It teaches you how to swaddle and the 5's really do work for about the first month. Charlie lived as a burrito for the 1st month of life.<br />
3) The <b>Book Baby 411</b> It is awesome and so helpful. I would also get Expecting 411. I didn't discover it til my last few weeks so never bought it but read it at Borders and liked it better than What to Expect.<br />
4) The <b>soothie</b> <b><a href="http://www.soothie-pacifier.com/">http://www.soothie-pacifier.com/</a></b> It's the one recommended for breast feeding moms and Charlie LOVES it. Also most hospitals are now recommending it and give them out.<br />
5) A <b>boppy </b><br />
6) A <b>bath tub</b> that has a shelf built in. Our whale tub had one and its really useful when they are little and slippery. <b><a href="http://www.target.com/Fisher-Price-Whale-of-a-Tub-Infant-Bathtub/dp/B0018Z8CN8">http://www.target.com/Fisher-Price-Whale-of-a-Tub-Infant-Bathtub/dp/B0018Z8CN8</a></b><br />
7) A <b>bath mat</b> to bathe the baby in the first few weeks til the stump for the umbilical cord falls off <b><a href="http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3618616">http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3618616</a></b><br />
8) <b>towels </b>and TONS of wash cloths - bath products. There are a ton out there and we tried some of the fancier ones but my fav is Johnson and Johnson, they smell the best<br />
9) <b>cloth diapers</b> which are great for burp rags<br />
10) the <b>diaper genie</b><br />
11) a <b>portable changing mat</b> <a href="http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2756998">http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2756998</a> this is a lifesaver. i just throw it in my purse and go<br />
12) <b>car seat</b> - we got the graco snug and ride it's great and no complaints<br />
13) <b>stroller</b> - i would just get the <b>snap and go</b> til the baby gets bigger and you can decide what you want then. for the first three months you never take them out of the car seat so anything else is pointless. <br />
14) <b>Pack n'play</b>...whatever model you want there are a million. i would skip the bassinet and just use the pack n'play by your bed for the first few months<br />
15) <b>monitor</b> - I would get one that has a video monitor<br />
16) <b>bouncy seat</b> - Baby won't use it for the first few weeks but then they are really handy<br />
17)<b> swing</b> - someone gave us one to borrow. charlie can take it or leave it so i don't think its a must have but some people swear by them<br />
18) <b>crib</b> - whatever you like<br />
19) <b>changing unit</b> - Some friends have converted a dresser into a changing unit...I think that is a great idea then it can grow with you. <br />
20) <b>High Chair</b> - Can't recommend as we don't have one yet<br />
21) <b>activity mat</b> - any one will do.<br />
22) <b>Sleep dresses</b> - these are the BEST for the first few weeks. They are so easy when you have to do the middle of the night feeds and changes <b><a href="http://www.toysrus.com/family/index.jsp?categoryId=3251926">http://www.toysrus.com/family/index.jsp?categoryId=3251926</a></b><b><br />
</b>23) <b>Glider</b> - not essential but I loved mine and miss not having one in Grenada<br />
24) <b>Baby carrier</b> - we have baby bjorn and the baby sling, Balboa Baby, and I like both. Some people prefer ergo baby so just check and see what you like</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow , sans-serif;">25) <b>Secure Sleeper</b> </span>http://www.amazon.com/First-Years-Close-Secure-Sleeper/dp/B003HD7SNY/ref=sr_1_3%3FSubscriptionId%3Dundefined%26tag%3Druyi-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3DB003HD7SNY<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/First-Years-Close-Secure-Sleeper/dp/B003HD7SNY/ref=sr_1_3%3FSubscriptionId%3Dundefined%26tag%3Druyi-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3DB003HD7SNY"></a>26) <b>Good Girlfriends</b> to have a glass of wine or two with and remind you that you are still you.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNAGH-aNngaU_-2wC-MTz9efyRkjyp-wAhIda9W4S96GvBVYPQu_tFyVwk55s4uLt8QkKr5VEB-d0XHd8RTSsFGbucmULdfJy-dO1XYt61OcMLg33u8yx3j7irt1na1_HewQ4za-q6-k/s1600/bump+and+wine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNAGH-aNngaU_-2wC-MTz9efyRkjyp-wAhIda9W4S96GvBVYPQu_tFyVwk55s4uLt8QkKr5VEB-d0XHd8RTSsFGbucmULdfJy-dO1XYt61OcMLg33u8yx3j7irt1na1_HewQ4za-q6-k/s320/bump+and+wine.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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Now that I've posted this incredibly momish post I'm going to have to organize a girls night out to try and redeem myself or beg Keith and Suzie to hold a church service on Highland Fling II so we can wine!<br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-18112015427027677742011-04-11T10:12:00.000-04:002011-04-11T10:12:17.492-04:00What a View<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Needed a Reminder this morning to stop and enjoy the view!</td></tr>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-57612803939765793312011-04-09T09:32:00.000-04:002011-04-09T09:32:44.233-04:00Broken ComputerMy computer is refusing to turn on so am forced to use my husbands i-pad til we can get back to the US and get the situation fixed. I know...most people would love to have an i-pad but I'm missing my computer. I am not used to it and mispell words all the time...Just read my last post and saw all the spelling mistakes but can't/or don't want to find the time to go back and edit it. So, I'm not a complete moron(just partial) but until I get the hang of this ipad business I may slaugther the English language for a few more weeks. <br />
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In other news we have about 5 more weeks left on the island and I am ignoring the fact we are leaving. I need to get with the program and start getting organized. We house sat last week and the amount of stuff we needed for a week in someone elses house was mind blowing. I can't even comprehend how we are going to move a baby back to the US via Africa. I seem to be ignoring a lot of things at the moment. My hair smells reall horrific, Charlie threw up on me this morning and, every time I turn my head I get a whiff of it. But am too tired and lazy to shower so am just pretending I dont smell it. Also ignoring the fact I have to go back to work in a few months and my stint as a Caribbean house wife is coming to an end. No more sushi lunches and play dates on the beach and yoga at Laluna. I'm getting sad to see it all end so I'm ignoring it. Would stick my head in the sand and pretend it isn't happening but might pass out from the smell of my own hair.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-84592301133581586552011-04-07T10:17:00.000-04:002011-04-07T10:17:46.926-04:00What's the Hardest Thing You've ever Done?The other day John mentioned that the hardest thing he had done to date was vet school. He then added rather dramatically that it was even harder than climbing Mount Kiliminjaro. Judging from the amount of stress he has been under the last few weeks...I have no doubt.<br />
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Anyway, our conversation got me thinking what's the hardest thing you've ever done? John asked me and I said automatically, "child birth" (I guess the memory has not yet faded) but, then I thought that can't be the hardest thing I have ever done. Women do it everyday often without modern medicine and, I hear teenagers are now doing it on reality tv while telling off their 'baby daddy'. So, no, I must have done something more monumental than child birth.<br />
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At one time in my life just getting up and going to work at a job I hated seemed like it was the hardest thing I would ever have to do. As marketing director for a mall I thought I might just lose it if I had to face one more bunny breakfast or deal with one more season of drunk, narcoleptic santas. This prompted what might have been the best but, at the time seemingly most bizarre decision I ever made. I quite my job moved to Zambia and lived in a game park trading drunk santas for inebriated ganme rangers and fake bunnys for a pride of lions. I have to say the lions ended up being a lot less scary. That was an exciting and terrifying decision but not the hardest thing I've ever one. Though as I met my husband, one of the better decisions I've ever made.<br />
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Some days I think taking Charlie for an outing might be the hardest thing I've ever done. To go out and about in Grenada she needs more changes of clothing than a runway model. If you happen to be out as the sun sets and the temp drops from 90 to 85 and you don't have full length pajamas a hat and heavy blanket you will bring down the wrath of every Grenadian woman upon your head. If child child services existed here they might just have Charlie hauled off as her negligent mother is causing "the chile to catch cold." The first few weeks we were back I thought raising a baby in Grenada might be the hardest thing I would ever do because of the amount of advice I recieved, but the day they told me I would break my child's back is the day I stopped listening so island life is back to being a snap as long as the car is working, you don't mind no running hot water, etc...etc..<br />
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Now that I think of it the hardest thing I've ever done might have been finding someone on this island who hadn't heard about our troubled car and selling it to them.<br />
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I'm not sure what the hardest thing I have ever done is. As I'm not that ancient maybe I haven't done it yet. I do have a sneaky suspicion that when it comes to children, child birth might be the easy part, raising them well or as my 8th grade science teacher used to say having "good home training" may be the hard part. <br />
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What's the hardest thing you've ever done?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-4055479516785134392011-04-04T10:38:00.000-04:002011-04-04T10:38:22.613-04:00A Gentle Reminder<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVeJ6E_UsxXOTjiR1vofl9omf-FAtdzk-jgB2s7pOtygy2XpIn-i81VW1zeyuxtPnPRKnTlaTQmR0r4cWe1JjF-XuJEnngE66oDZOyTv3XAt4qEPpiTrgKV4acu2q8v5seC6aqboZNRo/s1600/7+weeks+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVeJ6E_UsxXOTjiR1vofl9omf-FAtdzk-jgB2s7pOtygy2XpIn-i81VW1zeyuxtPnPRKnTlaTQmR0r4cWe1JjF-XuJEnngE66oDZOyTv3XAt4qEPpiTrgKV4acu2q8v5seC6aqboZNRo/s320/7+weeks+006.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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A few weeks ago I was dashing out of the house to go for a run before we took Charlie for her evening walk. It seems that whenever I am doing anything on my own these days I try to do it at warp speed except perhaps my actual run...As someone remarked the other day. " Good to see you running again, but it must be tough getting back into it. You used to fly around here like a gazelle..." I notice they never finished the end of the sentence the implication being I now lumber around like a buffalo...<br />
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As I was running out of the house to start my run, an older gentlemen that we often pass on our evening walks stopped to talk to me just as I was about to get going. Pressed for time and anxious to start my run I was very annoyed that he wanted to strike up a conversation, but my southern upbringing kicked in and I smiled and told myself to be polite. We chatted for a few minutes about the weather and other mundane things and then he told me his kids were grown, his wife was gone and his grand children were in other countries. He then said something which broke my heart. He was lonely. Everyone was gone and he now walked the roads of lance aux epines alone.<br />
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John and I have always walked or run in the evenings. Since we began our relationship its our time to reconnect with one another and tell each other about our days without the distractions of phones, computers, tv etc...Its our thing and, its what keeps us healthy emotionally and physically as a couple. We first started running in Zambia and we would run through the village picking up children along the way. By the end of the run we had 30 kids running with us screaming "mizungu, mizungu" (translation white person). They annoyingly would be turning cartwheels and running barefoot as John and I panted towards the finish line. Nevertheless we continued to plod along as these children embarrassingly ran circles around us.<br />
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We have continued our walks/runs and they have been one of the constants in our nomadic and ever changing life the past four years. Our twosome has now become a threesome and we walk and talk with Charlie in tow much like we did before. Though some things are different, we can no longer run together so we go in shifts, our eyes are glued on the baby, we don't occasionally hold hands anymore (someone has to push that massive stroller around) and both of us are often so tired or preoccupied that conversation doesn't always flow like it used to. We are usually hurried and frazzled and as 5-7 from what I am told is the universal witching hour for babies we know that at the end of the walk our peaceful little angel has it in her to turn on us, and become a fussing banshee.<br />
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My heart broke a little bit for the lonely old man but, I'm glad we had that encounter because it reminded me to slow down. It goes so fast. Some days all I want is five minutes to myself but one day soon all I'll have too many minutes to myself. Some day I may walk alone with no worries or hurries just memories and, I know I'll wish I could do it all over again.<br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-24376836634764218962011-02-12T11:02:00.002-04:002011-02-12T18:09:57.019-04:00The Help<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Worth the Wait...and worth staying home with...</td></tr>
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A funny thing happened to me last week. I found myself having not one but, multiple conversations on how hard it was to find good help. I had spent the previous week interviewing cleaner/nanny combos and it seemed like they came and went through our tiny little apartment faster than commuters passing through Grand Central. I wasn't happy with any of them. There was one whose mouth hung open like a cod fish staring blankly into space. I later found out that she was "watching the child" one woman had Charlie so bundled up I thought she might pass out from heat stroke. All seemed to agree I was a crap mother and didn't know what I was doing after I declined the remedy of sugar water or putting flour in the bottle to help Charlie sleep.<br />
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None of them cleaned all that well though, I will admit our apartment seems to be overflowing with baby gear, school books, papers that seemed to have reproduced and exercise equipment that making heads or tails of this clutter would be a bit daunting. However that didn't change the fact that I caught myself sounding like a 1950's southern housewife complaining about "the help." I recently read that book. I had to after my Mississippi raised grandmother read it and proclaimed it a "pack of lies"...I knew A) that there had to be some truth in this book B) Hilly and my grandmother are cut from the same cloth. <br />
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I on the other hand feel a little bit like the white trash character whose maid thinks she is insane. Her inability to get out of her sweats until ten minutes before her husband gets home, her unorganized household and her brassy hair are all something I can identify with. Even with a maid coming in, my house is still a mess, I need my highlights retouched and Charlie and I are often in our pajamas until well, it's time to put them on again. <br />
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I have turned into a housewife without any of the housewife skills. At the moment I barely cook, the bed gets made usually as we are about to get back in it, I don't iron so my husband goes around rumpled looking, most of my clothes have a little bit of spit up on them and I had no idea what was happening in Egypt for about five days . I have to google the headlines before we go out so I can converse about something other than how hard it is to find good help and how adorable my child is.<br />
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I've been debating taking on a project at the University which would have me out of my pj's and back into a world that doesn't revolve around nappy changes, play dates and searching for the perfect maid. But I think I'm happy here...I may be crap at being a housewife and I know my career will be short lived but I'm just not ready to leave my daughter or my pj's.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-45603453560670384712011-02-06T10:47:00.000-04:002011-02-06T10:47:04.807-04:00A day at the Beach<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dycNqt0z5u2wLtcnE-kxJ_bBVbfYme_Rw9UPkHoKmIeauK9IF_pRMqjAfrFFXdl7rTH7nCeIFvHq6_rUhYDDQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Snoozing on BBC beach and then a little torture for her parents benefit. The first I imagine of many...Poor Baby she may need that thumb to deal with her pesky parents.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-70240153358159896892011-02-01T10:05:00.000-04:002011-02-01T10:05:53.833-04:00It takes a Village...and then some<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of our last nights out before Charlie's arrival</td></tr>
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It may take a village to raise a child but it took an island, a global internet community and several nights out to assure the parents that they could in fact raise this baby, and that they would have an arsenal of village elders as back up when they ran into trouble. The closer it came to Charlie's arrival the more nervous I could see my husband getting. The question "will I be a good father" was asked so many times that it became a running joke on the island. The culmination of these fears reached their peak around month 8 when what was to be a last romantic night out before baby ended with me going home and John fumbling out of the passenger side of our car (shockingly the drivers side door stopped working) in Keith in Suzie's driveway clutching two bottles of wine and spending til the wee hours of the night being reassured that he/we could in fact do this parent thing. The next day I got a phone call "the poor buggers terrified." I thought well join the club...It seems men don't quite grasp that this baby is actually coming and their life is changing til the final stretch. In fact I am not sure they really comprehend that a baby is coming til they hold their baby in their arms for the first time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheEjkhx18z0_hennpVDhRcHQgcMI5eX4qoV2Gl01Oc2umtowpd3WpQOzW7SPoo768EnohZDZUSaUUEZmlf0u59-bGkgzghlv1WpTOQDWEUT_RLOBP7euSFTpoxNIWtYhpaIFCZve-zOpQ/s1600/charlie+christmas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheEjkhx18z0_hennpVDhRcHQgcMI5eX4qoV2Gl01Oc2umtowpd3WpQOzW7SPoo768EnohZDZUSaUUEZmlf0u59-bGkgzghlv1WpTOQDWEUT_RLOBP7euSFTpoxNIWtYhpaIFCZve-zOpQ/s320/charlie+christmas.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie 11 days old...we can do this</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I spent 9 months worrying and stewing about where we would put a child in our tiny one room apartment. I worried about putting the baby in a two door car, also known as the unsafest car on the planet, and I worried about mosquitos and had nets sent from Malawi. During this time John acted like I was a little bit crazy and a lot a bit neurotic and told me babies come every day...Basically he implied I was being "too American."<br />
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What I realized the second Charlie came into the world was everything I had spent the last nine months worrying about and then resigning myself to the fact that we'll shove our child in a corner, we'll drive extra slowly in the unsafe car and really, Dengue fever is only bad in August, was a total waste of time. The minute Charlie entered the world John was worrying about where we would put her, he proclaimed we could not have her in the car as it had no brakes (that I did not know) and the next thing I knew he was buying the most expensive baby monitor on the market that monitors breathing and may actually raise your child for you. <br />
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When we started the hospital discharge process and we realized that they were actually letting us take home baby Charlie without a test, an instruction manual and nothing more than a handful of diapers and some swaddling cloths we looked at each other and thought ok here comes the test can we do this??? Suprisingly we could and it was a lot more natural than either one of us thought it would be, but I don't think it would have been such a smooth transition had we not had our village as back up.<br />
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Chief elder was my mother who fed us, did loads and loads of laundry held Charlie in the wee hours of the morning and took care of her baby girl and mine. Four weeks passed way too fast and I still miss her.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNsjq6iyFYQ42rbPMA3kKHCMjHKQH5f_aLcvHu0TovHTywjUzV6qxEYpy2wsBCvaz8pDb9cYbvS7N8pmX50JKtq2h85ZBxJRL_zTriF3vN0DN2x4Q19ca4Wl03GR49b4O2PcH66dcMYU/s1600/C-%2526-G-03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNsjq6iyFYQ42rbPMA3kKHCMjHKQH5f_aLcvHu0TovHTywjUzV6qxEYpy2wsBCvaz8pDb9cYbvS7N8pmX50JKtq2h85ZBxJRL_zTriF3vN0DN2x4Q19ca4Wl03GR49b4O2PcH66dcMYU/s320/C-%2526-G-03.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom with her two grandbabies</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
John's parents sent love and encouragement from Malawi and their joy at having a granddaugther kept us going in those early days that are a bit tough.<br />
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Our siblings were so sweet and supportive skyping, visiting and my baby brother was there when Charlie was born. Making her arrival even more special.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcOHCZu21NI1WJm4cqTKhX-cYPmQnptQ3zb0PXa-o7K_uPowiemB1ewaIpZv_k9FU_sZwZTVP6EYj1Il5trDYqEMkt80EudefUZgEzgbgFzv7sCasEI96QEsN_QumCVKs9Jv8l7PYaFs8/s1600/C-%2526-G-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcOHCZu21NI1WJm4cqTKhX-cYPmQnptQ3zb0PXa-o7K_uPowiemB1ewaIpZv_k9FU_sZwZTVP6EYj1Il5trDYqEMkt80EudefUZgEzgbgFzv7sCasEI96QEsN_QumCVKs9Jv8l7PYaFs8/s320/C-%2526-G-02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cousins Grady Shake and Charlie Catherine</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Charlie was so fortunate to have well wishers on several continents sending messages, friends from NYC traveling to see her at just a few days old and her grandad driving from Georgia to cuddle her.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYVSEkSjJGu5KibvtUNdvzVKYwYzP-PuOfKNyMzLbjjvP7FMdffr_MazEYjyOVqx29REjSUOcWZWJTOChPMrt9P6-cUmsdPd7sWjNZmPa52MVhd0ESmEZg8ZLAEazKlyTgEskozQx1dNY/s1600/Katie-Charlie-03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYVSEkSjJGu5KibvtUNdvzVKYwYzP-PuOfKNyMzLbjjvP7FMdffr_MazEYjyOVqx29REjSUOcWZWJTOChPMrt9P6-cUmsdPd7sWjNZmPa52MVhd0ESmEZg8ZLAEazKlyTgEskozQx1dNY/s320/Katie-Charlie-03.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The two Katherine/Catherines</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-v-R2Y6E1HVhuEPHEpLeHNn_X-mpe0VyRsklTshyphenhyphenUCZ9gCtRQlwSlbjVF8qicc-iQXzTHcjfeGssXdBqDUDPp9cm9X8M17FKP9xN3vFLyOUxTfMZQ_xHxhdb4di8hUlvBmkAK3eSsyhQ/s1600/Colin+and+Charlie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-v-R2Y6E1HVhuEPHEpLeHNn_X-mpe0VyRsklTshyphenhyphenUCZ9gCtRQlwSlbjVF8qicc-iQXzTHcjfeGssXdBqDUDPp9cm9X8M17FKP9xN3vFLyOUxTfMZQ_xHxhdb4di8hUlvBmkAK3eSsyhQ/s320/Colin+and+Charlie.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Shannon and future hubbie Baby Colin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We hit the jackpot with Charlie's pediatrician. She absolutley loves him as do we. What a rare treat to find a pediatrician who keeps in touch via e-mail and skype and had us over for dinner on our last night in the States. I don't know what could be better than having your four week old checked by a professional at his home the night before you embark on a LONG journey back to Grenada. Our village has a medicine man and we are so grateful!<br />
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Arriving back to our little island community we were met by our island family who came out on a Sunday to celebrate Charlies arrival.<br />
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Charlie's even been welcomed to Church and Highland Fling II has a new member!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRDM6d-jVlngide1NcixmBulrmlsSqPrepy1yD3ZQicDxO1MUUVr1o0Vc6ajNN_KRGjqT-gTYk7OoE1zpDjpu8SoEKBAXM9lHOvPsZrIj7rRrGFG7i8SesBBMwNPqqzyq8yMfeqFFUZs/s1600/Charlie+1st+Highland+Fling+II+061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRDM6d-jVlngide1NcixmBulrmlsSqPrepy1yD3ZQicDxO1MUUVr1o0Vc6ajNN_KRGjqT-gTYk7OoE1zpDjpu8SoEKBAXM9lHOvPsZrIj7rRrGFG7i8SesBBMwNPqqzyq8yMfeqFFUZs/s320/Charlie+1st+Highland+Fling+II+061.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Long Day at Sea</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Thanks to all our family and friends who assured us along the way that we could do this and now that we've got our sweet baby are on standby in case we need you. Charlie is a lucky girl and her parents though flawed and fumbling have done one thing right. We've surrounded ourselves with a strong village to guide us along the way.<br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268958866699886846.post-17732453020579302182011-01-31T20:50:00.000-04:002011-01-31T20:50:23.562-04:00Bush Girl, Beach Girl, Baby Girl<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhotoMud8LIl__yD8rLJNVzqksdwpsCZl7ECskKWodsoke_0rnsY_fltHHPHzH70dWuxS1Q3inTIoCCGGssnq19a9VCZMEClHBN_go9zEskG5PVwBCNpdX9exiDA1vB1EvkTtkW9CuUb0U/s1600/Baby-Charlie-02-BN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhotoMud8LIl__yD8rLJNVzqksdwpsCZl7ECskKWodsoke_0rnsY_fltHHPHzH70dWuxS1Q3inTIoCCGGssnq19a9VCZMEClHBN_go9zEskG5PVwBCNpdX9exiDA1vB1EvkTtkW9CuUb0U/s320/Baby-Charlie-02-BN.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie a few hours old</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
In typical Clark fashion, baby Clark, arrived a week early anxious to move onto her next adventure. After three couch bound weeks, to try and keep this baby in, John arrived back from Grenada and two days later our little girl arrived. I don't think anyone was more surprised than I was when a little girl popped out. After nine months of hearing "its a boy" from everyone from the lady at the dry cleaner to the waitresses at our local, the boatyard, I was pretty convinced our little bambino was a little boy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3j9BPEeCVSf_YZhFOjYtQlUJ9T1Tmz20kk2ISdygNIxSnCZb9_xOUEZVWYY7PgHv5BZKKPnxQ3z1l1zQ3p3FRWiiSxr91ta5Uk6gbbnv4fvnnwnPKv7tQS7v0H_B-1CrP2j38lf6z-o/s1600/Baby-Charlie-01+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3j9BPEeCVSf_YZhFOjYtQlUJ9T1Tmz20kk2ISdygNIxSnCZb9_xOUEZVWYY7PgHv5BZKKPnxQ3z1l1zQ3p3FRWiiSxr91ta5Uk6gbbnv4fvnnwnPKv7tQS7v0H_B-1CrP2j38lf6z-o/s320/Baby-Charlie-01+016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still in shock we've got a daughter</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
While I didn't care about the sex all I wanted was a healthy baby, I was a little more prepared for a boy. I grew up with boys. I knew how to boss them around and I was pretty content in my role as the only girl, but when I first laid eyes on our daughter everything changed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYp6xEudvWcnGXYZO8qrBfOxu6bV4U0Y4XXwyUm-OvftAPCGIWD8wIDsVVAKnOBaAQMGATSzgA40XRb_c_o3jhIH7kxmprqAcIy1UD9RziwEGOwDKlD9lSWYL7srRvR_4UJ4io2FiuhY/s1600/Baby-Charlie-D2+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYp6xEudvWcnGXYZO8qrBfOxu6bV4U0Y4XXwyUm-OvftAPCGIWD8wIDsVVAKnOBaAQMGATSzgA40XRb_c_o3jhIH7kxmprqAcIy1UD9RziwEGOwDKlD9lSWYL7srRvR_4UJ4io2FiuhY/s320/Baby-Charlie-D2+008.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In love with our Baby Girl</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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Its been six weeks since Charlie arrived and we've spent a lot of girl time together and I've learned a few things that make having a daughter extra special. Aside from the fact they have cuter clothes, you can dress them in pink, and when I wanted to spend an exorbitant amount on her first Christmas dress John said ok, since it's "her first Christmas." Flash forward to the wedding dress and we are in trouble...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHmuZcd6oSXjUhbjHpMMVzdInrc9IapBqG9xPpeXF7RFBt1xvqhJx82JXlwyj2LtPerZTeUArDoA4EryLYFviJ444r0_y8ioiztC4MJKHlZ8cg-LRXCVQoxb8A8MDBmizOycRDtOWr54/s1600/HA-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHmuZcd6oSXjUhbjHpMMVzdInrc9IapBqG9xPpeXF7RFBt1xvqhJx82JXlwyj2LtPerZTeUArDoA4EryLYFviJ444r0_y8ioiztC4MJKHlZ8cg-LRXCVQoxb8A8MDBmizOycRDtOWr54/s320/HA-02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie dressed as a snow bear</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqkO_-tw7R_4Gg5iFm-uEYzdG5ui6NKjz6CIXE9XslzYZwl9fwLx8M3jSXESqkKTpVtjl1PpoYP01K2DGNdxkX1-ukRjUaPyctYinqofCKHi2qNebprU4rE7edOvoIgWGrgeAH5q0OFhU/s1600/Charlie-Rach-John-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqkO_-tw7R_4Gg5iFm-uEYzdG5ui6NKjz6CIXE9XslzYZwl9fwLx8M3jSXESqkKTpVtjl1PpoYP01K2DGNdxkX1-ukRjUaPyctYinqofCKHi2qNebprU4rE7edOvoIgWGrgeAH5q0OFhU/s320/Charlie-Rach-John-01.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The expensive dress she hated...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
The Other Woman...<br />
For the first time in our relationship I have seen my husband's eyes light up with sheer adoration for another female and watching him stare in wonder at our baby girl makes me love him even more. This is perhaps the only time in life when you'll enjoy watching your husband moon over another woman. No jealousy just joy that this amazing little bundle has so captivated the man you love.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpdK2SkTzI99wkgjWKJS4mzUDZl8L7DQK3lqUXvWwYht2RFYFIsAIzFO2KBREBewutZ-sXgYTjRG69KiKsaOujJj13bIM5cX8xN8si565hT6gipTJNX-I7WvN2YvklOppZ7Y_kCxUrxY/s1600/Charlie+1st+Highland+Fling+II+026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpdK2SkTzI99wkgjWKJS4mzUDZl8L7DQK3lqUXvWwYht2RFYFIsAIzFO2KBREBewutZ-sXgYTjRG69KiKsaOujJj13bIM5cX8xN8si565hT6gipTJNX-I7WvN2YvklOppZ7Y_kCxUrxY/s320/Charlie+1st+Highland+Fling+II+026.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy and Daughter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Yummy Mummy...<br />
Little girls somehow know that you can't leave the house looking a total mess and Charlie always seems to give me the extra minute to put on my mascara. Not sure that a little boy would be so understanding. While I'll never be the "yummy mummy" just not organized enough to leave the house without spit up on my shoulder...I do have a daughter who will lay on the bed and babble at me while I dash on a little lip gloss before we head out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXK7G9_PnTua-EH3M6WE_d7r4OIy4Ok10_QKSky8DwZc-B7sryUAklAmBocOPZcuk3Ldu6aBru_tEqAx70VcGNYQ2iFQx2pQ9QAZIQuVtrB15Kn9OI03kqzubfIYW4txwZXrNhhQhYAE/s1600/Charlie+1st+Highland+Fling+II+034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXK7G9_PnTua-EH3M6WE_d7r4OIy4Ok10_QKSky8DwZc-B7sryUAklAmBocOPZcuk3Ldu6aBru_tEqAx70VcGNYQ2iFQx2pQ9QAZIQuVtrB15Kn9OI03kqzubfIYW4txwZXrNhhQhYAE/s320/Charlie+1st+Highland+Fling+II+034.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Out for a day on the boat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Girl Talk<br />
The coos and squeals are what I hope will be the beginning of many years of girl talk with my daughter. I spend hours on skype with my mom chatting and filling her in on what is going on with our island life. I am looking forward to hearing about my little girl's adventures, hopes and dreams but, for now those coo's are the sweet precursor of what is to come.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2V-_N698lX1ClMg1v0DQH72aMNzQjesyGH6uy4bBfSzGon7_CCDTkWgdXaf-Z40sVDV7iLQFlqoIXpIN6OXxkA3CA6R50fEh7dRUdpvMHBqNhFJwDxjXVVvIEI-fjDLT8aPck0dvkSAw/s1600/Charlie+1st+Highland+Fling+II+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2V-_N698lX1ClMg1v0DQH72aMNzQjesyGH6uy4bBfSzGon7_CCDTkWgdXaf-Z40sVDV7iLQFlqoIXpIN6OXxkA3CA6R50fEh7dRUdpvMHBqNhFJwDxjXVVvIEI-fjDLT8aPck0dvkSAw/s320/Charlie+1st+Highland+Fling+II+040.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a rest from all that chatter</td></tr>
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That Special Bond...<br />
There is something special about moms and daughters that I never really knew til I had one of my own. Now that I have Charlie I understand how my mom must feel about me. Too bad we can't all discover this when we are 13 years old and those turbulent teens might be a bit sweeter...Watching my mom look at Charlie and reminisce about my babyhood is bitter sweet. Sweet that she loved and remembers those years with such clarity and scary that it seemed to go so fast for her. Its been six weeks and I can't believe how much our baby girl has changed. I know in the blink of an eye we'll go from this:<br />
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To this:<br />
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Baby girls are special and our baby girl has made our bush, beach, lifestyle much more fun. I hope I can remember to soak every minute up and enjoy our next adventure...parenthood.<br />
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