tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69101944293829215562024-03-04T23:39:37.315-08:00The Harriger Family WEB LOGSara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-38990792926178989132012-01-13T11:15:00.000-08:002012-01-13T11:15:10.080-08:002012Welcome to what possibly might be the last blog of 2012! <br />
Geez. For someone who LOVES<br />
LOVES<br />
LOVES<br />
to talk, I sure have a hard time keeping up a blog!<br />
<br />
Maybe because:<br />
1) What I have to say isn't that interesting.<br />
2) I am not as funny as I think<br />
3) No one knows I have a blog<br />
4) I don't have any cool prize-giveaways...<br />
<br />
I guess it's the last one. *heheeehee*Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-51092316979177146352011-09-13T12:21:00.000-07:002011-09-13T12:21:12.555-07:00Guess What...My last blog entry was from the SUPER BOWL. & This past weekend was Season 1 of the NFL. So, without mentioning off-season conditioning and preseason activities, I am officially a "NFL Season Blogger." or something like that. <br />
Maybe I can claim I was on "Lock Out" for contract negotiations between myself & my computer?<br />
Maybe I was injured during the last play of the Super Bowl (which I was... read my Super Bowl entry). & just got cleared by my doctor... Yeah, that's it.<br />
<br />
Either way, I'm back. I think i will "theme" my blog so you can read about all my YMCA & Cooking adventures. Because NOTHING is easy with Sara Lou.Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-13117020752950071022011-02-07T11:08:00.000-08:002011-02-07T11:08:31.440-08:00The Super Bowl of Guacamole<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My former supervisor advised me to write a book on my kitchen experiences. This would be chapter 4, I think...</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">First, I need to say - I make awesome Guacamole. And I don't use a packet.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Second, I do not have a recipe, necessarily.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Third, I have recently learned that I cut my avocados incorrectly.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am not sure it matters, since after I cut the avocados, I squeeze their 'meat' out of their skins and then send them through the blades of my Magic Bullet. Bruising them as they are opened is the LEAST of the avocado's concern. (But I will do Auntie Lois's method, because she's awesome and why would I stray from her advice?)</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I decided to prepare my "Award Winning Guac*" for the Super Bowl party my mom and dad were hosting...</span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">* Tim gave me the guac award, it might not count, but if Tim's happy - we're all happy. </span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My auntie Terri was very curious as to how the Magic Bullet works, since she's heard so much about them. I zip the first half of the batch off into the M.B.'s Blender attachment. Not very impressive since I didn't use enough Lime Juice (not having a recipe can sometimes hurt). It took a few stirs, a few shakes & a couple more caps of lime juice before it was working.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Of course I managed to chew up the end of my mom's wooden spoon. <br />
...TURN OFF BLENDER<br />
... WAIT FOR BLADES TO STOP<br />
... <b>THEN </b>STICK IN SPOON... Elementary (jr. high?) Home Econ, right? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I don't *<i>think</i>* any wood ended up in my guac.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Then, as I attempt to cut my avocado the "proper" way according to Auntie Lois, I manage to slice through the avocado & into my pinky. Okay - in her defense at no time did Lois say "hold the avocado in your hand & cut TOWARDS your flesh". But that's the Sara Way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I decided <i>against </i>the ambulance ride and the 72 stitches to reattach my finger. 2 Band-Aids and a scoop of Guacamole did the trick. <br />
(The scoop of Guacamole was for my mental health - not the wound. I'm unaware of any healing powers in guacamole. However, I have learned that the ONION can reattach fingers & heal large wounds... that's another story).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Cousin Carrie offered to work the knife for me since I was a little apprehensive. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Spoon-ruined <b>CHECK</b><br />
Finger-injured <b>CHECK</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Two Large Bowls of DELICIOUS homemade Guacamole <b>CHECK</b>!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Another successful cooking story from Sara Lou.</span>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-67116546465161802892011-02-07T09:32:00.000-08:002011-02-07T09:32:34.151-08:00The Super Bowl<div style="background-color: #38761d; color: yellow;"><b>It is the day after the Super Bowl.</b></div>As a committed fan of the Minnesota Vikings, it was SO hard to cheer for the Packers. Yes, they are in our division & I should cheer for the Ol' NFC, but... the Packers? Come On! Any other NFC team but them!!!<br />
<br />
I had a Catch-22 this year. It seems like whatever team I have cheered for - has lost: <br />
<b>Example A:</b> Obviously the <b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="background-color: purple; color: yellow;">Vikings</span> </span><i>kind </i><i>of </i></b>choked this season. <b> </b><br />
<b>Example B:</b> AFC Wild Card Game - I have to cheer for the <b style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: #0b5394;">Indianapolis Colts</span></b>. They loose.<b> </b><br />
<b>Example C:</b> NFC Wild Card Game - I can <b>NOT </b>cheer for the <b><span style="background-color: yellow; color: #38761d;">Packers</span></b>, so I cheer for the <b style="background-color: #134f5c;"><span style="color: white;">Eagles</span></b>... Eagles loose.<br />
<br />
During the Divisional Play-offs, it goes a little better for "My Team". <br />
I now am cheering for the <b><span style="background-color: black; color: yellow;">Steelers </span></b>- because my newest Sister In Law is from Pittsburgh & you cheer for family (Win!). <br />
I cheer for whoever is playing against the <b><span style="background-color: blue; color: red;">Patriots </span></b>because those Big "Celebrity" teams & Tom Brady's Hair bug me (Patriots loose!!).<br />
I cheer for the <b><span style="background-color: blue; color: orange;">Bears </span></b>& the <b><span style="background-color: yellow; color: #38761d;">Packers </span></b>to win because I'm mad at the <b><span style="background-color: black; color: red;">Falcons </span></b>for the past (1998 Playoffs). & I think a <b><span style="background-color: blue; color: orange;">Bears</span></b>/<b><span style="background-color: yellow; color: #38761d;">Packers </span></b>game in the playoffs would.be.awesome. <b style="background-color: blue; color: orange;">Go Bears</b>.<br />
<br />
<b>Check.Check.Check.</b><br />
<br />
But the Bears eventually loose to the Packers (because I'm cheering for them, of course). The curse continues.<br />
<br />
Looking at a Steelers/Packers Super Bowl, puts me in a quandary. Do I cheer for the Packers, in hopes they loose - or stay true to my <b><span style="color: purple;">purple</span></b>-blood & cheer for "whoever is playing the Pack"... knowing it is a curse & that poor team will succumb to my poison.<br />
<br />
Well, however the stars aligned last night, I cheered for the Steelers (except an occasion or two when I thought the Green jerseys were Black & thought the Steelers made an awesome plays - just to be told I was cheering for the wrong team).<br />
<br />
And this morning, the Packers are Super Bowl XLV Champions. <br />
Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-14125258259030352502010-12-10T21:50:00.000-08:002010-12-10T21:50:35.209-08:00December 2010. The End.Apparently tonight is the night life will end in Minnesota. I just wanted to post a final entry for my non-Minnesotan friends & family - so you-all will know how much you are (were?) loved. In the remote chance I survive this "Blizzard of a Lifetime", I'll just come back with a BIG "JUST KIDDING, Ya'll!"<br />
<br />
For 3 days all we've heard is "snow snow snow. Blizzard, Blizzard, Blizzard. Cold, Cold, Cold."<br />
Okay - we get it. It IS mid-December in Minnesota, after all. I expected my friend in Warner-Robbins, GA <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Hi Jennie!!) </span>to go on & on & on & on & on about the coating of snow they received since it is Georgia... but she briefly mentioned it happened... AND THEN MOVED ON WITH HER DAY. <br />
Minnesotan's - TAKE NOTE.<br />
<br />
I must say - the forecasts were SO grim & gloomy that the Osseo-(MN) District schools cancelled all weekend activities and closed all district buildings. THAT, my friends, is why I am guessing life will cease after tonight. In my 13 years with the Osseo School District, I remember one snow-day & one "wind-chill/cold/the Govenor made us do it" closure. Their philosophy was... "It's Minnesota. Deal with it."<br />
<br />
The funny thing is sitting at work listening to all the precious ladies sitting around chatting about how cold, how windy, how trecherous... whatever it is outside. & then I turn around and say "Actually - it was really nice this morning - not windy at all! I didn't have to scrape my windshield & the roads were plowed down to the pavement!" So evil. I take away their bad-weather-thunder. They look at each other... Shoot! Now what do we talk about?!<br />
<br />
Today, Hayley was sick. She peaked at a 102* fever and took a 4 hour nap. So, at 10:30pm, she is wide awake, fever-free and bouncing off the ceiling. We went outside to move the car and ran into a neighbor... - also out walking his Kindergartener at 10:30pm! SO funny. I said, "Wow, I guess this IS a good time to be walking the kids..." At first he didn't see Hayley & was a little defensive... but then laughed. His son, Jackson, recognized Hayley from the bus. Whole point of the story - no one can say "Every other Kindergartener is in bed by now" to Hayley. Actually that wasn't the point of the story. Have I EVER really had a point to any story I've ever told? Today I had lunch with my Bestie, Noelle. I built up a story SO much... I forgot what I was talking about.<br />
<br />
I am just blogging to blog right now. I'm exhausted. I was keeping Hayley company, but she just announced "I'm done being awake now. The nap wore off." & marched to bed. I love her.<br />
<br />
Even though my eyes are crossing, I think I'll go write a Christmas Letter - for those who don't have internet (i.e. My Grandma Harder and ... I wonder if Grampa B has a computer...).<br />
<br />
Remember - if I don't survive the Blizzard to end all Blizzards... I really did appreciate every one of you for your unique roll in keeping me who I am! :) *loves*!Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-58570032192440425862010-11-03T13:52:00.000-07:002010-11-03T13:52:28.774-07:00November 3, 2010. The Day After.Okay, what I refer to in the title is the day after Hayley Anne's 6th Birthday!<br />
<br />
<strong>Happy Birthday Pumpkin!</strong><br />
<br />
<img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHJrFPTIKI/AAAAAAAAEiU/aoaqqHWcI3k/s320/11-5-04-2.JPEG" width="240" /><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHKHy_c_gI/AAAAAAAAEiY/Qf5qfA1VLWE/s1600/YEAH+HAYLEY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHKHy_c_gI/AAAAAAAAEiY/Qf5qfA1VLWE/s320/YEAH+HAYLEY.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHKZ_oFQxI/AAAAAAAAEic/ivYJQU-7hIc/s1600/11-7-06+136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHKZ_oFQxI/AAAAAAAAEic/ivYJQU-7hIc/s320/11-7-06+136.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RYwi3pruMnMzQ4Nz5d6Ffpl-NNYOOrTKqzWdXWR04Z1nIZpG5Etzez2vTUeVAGB7cBULKLkCWQVhkWuDmnYzTSc8W1_VKTGzDHGicGcoDHg_kapIZ4pXAVvpVu5uxd3-Zp1iqeLx2dWq/s1600/IMG_5103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RYwi3pruMnMzQ4Nz5d6Ffpl-NNYOOrTKqzWdXWR04Z1nIZpG5Etzez2vTUeVAGB7cBULKLkCWQVhkWuDmnYzTSc8W1_VKTGzDHGicGcoDHg_kapIZ4pXAVvpVu5uxd3-Zp1iqeLx2dWq/s320/IMG_5103.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHJrFPTIKI/AAAAAAAAEiU/aoaqqHWcI3k/s1600/11-5-04-2.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHK5p7Sv8I/AAAAAAAAEik/LTu_OiE_mv4/s1600/IMG_8243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHK5p7Sv8I/AAAAAAAAEik/LTu_OiE_mv4/s320/IMG_8243.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjBg3FonYnExGuDe1_0sKczakTLzq1bsUlefXlnuaRTqk76gzIev7E43c9VOWWzEgOQlJeWKiPzGTzcwv46TDZf9slkOSzWqZAm_myuohxJKNfREomGP2YgCyjjPVuz0ycONmOvzxV7ga/s1600/Hayley's+5th+Birthday-9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjBg3FonYnExGuDe1_0sKczakTLzq1bsUlefXlnuaRTqk76gzIev7E43c9VOWWzEgOQlJeWKiPzGTzcwv46TDZf9slkOSzWqZAm_myuohxJKNfREomGP2YgCyjjPVuz0ycONmOvzxV7ga/s320/Hayley's+5th+Birthday-9.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHLgs3576I/AAAAAAAAEis/iEur4InxIrA/s1600/Kindergarten+Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TNHLgs3576I/AAAAAAAAEis/iEur4InxIrA/s320/Kindergarten+Photo.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-44920517431660008742010-09-28T10:04:00.000-07:002010-09-28T10:04:28.497-07:00An Irreconcilable Force.We have a somewhat supernatural force in our home. <br />
<br />
It has the power of the strongest wind.<br />
It has the strength of one-hundred horses (The Big Clydesdales, not the mini-ponies).<br />
It is silent like Carbon Monoxide (really? I couldn't think of anything else deadly & silent).<br />
Stealth ... like something really really sneaky.<br />
It causes damage in the blink of an eye.<br />
<br />
It is my daughter. Her name is Hannah.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now, I've heard many people say "If I had <i>this child </i>first, I would NOT have had anymore children." No matter how damaging that child is - I love her. I would love 10 more just like her. I am so blessed by her spirit and her... well... creativity and imagination. Think: "Harold & the Purple Crayon". So creative. So imaginative. But how do you think Harold's mom reacted to purple crayon all over the walls, ceiling, floor...<br />
<br />
The latest chapter in "Hanzilla the Destroyer" was a pile of golden cornsilk hair laying on her floor last night. I knew it wasn't human hair - definitely of the plastic-hair variety. <br />
Let's take a poll. <br />
Do you think the hair was from:<br />
A. The $2 thrift-store Barbie that we bought just for the dress she was wearing?<br />
B. The doll we have had since she was a baby - of unknown origin?<br />
C. The tail of a horse we got at Build A Bear Workshop?<br />
D. The hair from her most recent birthday-present, Rapunzel "barbie". <br />
<br />
If you said "D" you're right. Rapunzel now has a very Avant-Garde, NY Runway model hair "don't". What is the point of a <b>Rapunzel </b>doll if she has short, zig-zag hair do? "Rapunzel, Rapunzel... let down your fire-escape ladder..."??? Not quite the same ring.<br />
<br />
Mommy kept her cool (mark it on the calendar). I undressed Rapunzel, handed her to Hannah & said "You may go throw her in the garbage." Tears. Wails of protest. Nashing of teeth. "MY PRESENT!"<br />
Some might think I was a little dramatic throwing the doll away. Maybe a little over-the-top. But seriously. I do NOT want her thinking her destructive actions are cute or acceptable. I can't think of punishments to fit these crimes (& Dr. Spock, Dr. Phil, Oprah, Dr. Dobson... none of them have a chapter on "What to do with the doll post hair-cut".)<br />
Plus - I don't want a wonky-looking doll laying around. I am trying to simplify my life & having broken toys laying around will not achieve that goal. I still wonder if I can try styling her hair into a short bob... (I'm also one step away from filling out the application for TLC's Hoarders...)<br />
<br />
Then as I was about to tuck her in for the night, I notice a small pile of darker-golden cornsilk hair. This time it was of the human variety. <br />
Reason's why I love Hannah:<br />
I asked her "where" she cut her hair (clearly meaning: where is your bald-spot)... & she said "By the desk". <br />
I asked her... "No - WHERE is your hair cut?" & She pointed to my hand full of hair & said "there!"<br />
Once again, I ask... "On your head. What part of your head did you cut off hair?"<br />
Then she rubbed her head & said "kind of all over, just like Grandpa does."<br />
<br />
Next Chapter: Why I wish my father was NOT a barber...Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-88530256945054003492010-09-15T16:21:00.000-07:002010-09-15T16:21:32.755-07:00Happy Birthday My DARLING Hannah Jase!<strong><u><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-large;">FOUR YEARS OLD!</span></u></strong><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;">The very idea of Hannah having a twin makes me want to scream!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFR9qL9XMI/AAAAAAAAEgo/Ah14hwbp9bk/s1600/DSC04871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFR9qL9XMI/AAAAAAAAEgo/Ah14hwbp9bk/s320/DSC04871.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My little Mermaids</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFRzszPGJI/AAAAAAAAEgg/zUBnwDjOBDA/s1600/DSC04853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFRzszPGJI/AAAAAAAAEgg/zUBnwDjOBDA/s320/DSC04853.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She's such a little silly kid. I *heart* her So Much!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rCNUgTIRilxGzuEkQAhH3_C2dEVUyhGinqHu1_IkQ1xXSQMt_9HzGwg3OZg0kc4p4mScPWjUTYkV0XAUBUQZQT5o-KnUIz3R0qXKHmHkaw4W9CxtPb3AXvn9jmc_AYYFqGAMadrJlHFA/s1600/DSC02745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rCNUgTIRilxGzuEkQAhH3_C2dEVUyhGinqHu1_IkQ1xXSQMt_9HzGwg3OZg0kc4p4mScPWjUTYkV0XAUBUQZQT5o-KnUIz3R0qXKHmHkaw4W9CxtPb3AXvn9jmc_AYYFqGAMadrJlHFA/s320/DSC02745.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This was one of the first times we got her hair up in 2 pig-tails.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFRKjHQIdI/AAAAAAAAEf4/ka76NV3rl5U/s1600/DSC05404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFRKjHQIdI/AAAAAAAAEf4/ka76NV3rl5U/s320/DSC05404.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Some other adorable pictures of our little baby...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifeZWuMcMmqeKZCsUGPCO1YkDdWhip7NCIO557VfdMbXlTzXm7r18HirVGbOg9uIug7jV1RSz1oocJ3EtQyAmyZkdkL8r2mpRybnS1qJHEcAO_5u7kg3PK0X0_MuCklXzfCaXKFb5a5vPw/s1600/DSC05385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifeZWuMcMmqeKZCsUGPCO1YkDdWhip7NCIO557VfdMbXlTzXm7r18HirVGbOg9uIug7jV1RSz1oocJ3EtQyAmyZkdkL8r2mpRybnS1qJHEcAO_5u7kg3PK0X0_MuCklXzfCaXKFb5a5vPw/s320/DSC05385.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFRZEPD-mI/AAAAAAAAEgI/9mWYLyDO-gU/s1600/DSC05080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFRZEPD-mI/AAAAAAAAEgI/9mWYLyDO-gU/s320/DSC05080.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is Hannah's little boyfriend, Aiden.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFRv1Eky2I/AAAAAAAAEgY/3uYcA1icq6U/s1600/DSC05035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFRv1Eky2I/AAAAAAAAEgY/3uYcA1icq6U/s320/DSC05035.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And just to remember how it all started:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Cutting the already-cut Cord. Traditions are funny. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What is the big deal with that cord cutting stuff?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8X3eO7JnRXKPzGCMiT2aC0KT2MceE9NR8JSDQpPz05DIlJWZow0d4Fefas-gLc6T1Jtc7Ff9_2Ynqpnd3MLWua3AJ_OksukkJp00kwmJDXw2LNlSvTrgp4RoTEStZ92TBbcC-GCKhJxto/s1600/10-3-06+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8X3eO7JnRXKPzGCMiT2aC0KT2MceE9NR8JSDQpPz05DIlJWZow0d4Fefas-gLc6T1Jtc7Ff9_2Ynqpnd3MLWua3AJ_OksukkJp00kwmJDXw2LNlSvTrgp4RoTEStZ92TBbcC-GCKhJxto/s320/10-3-06+022.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRayX29atUyHIsRd4TVYAhOhgM6VwP_3FDn_mqNZd7MRu8V3YLRZqM7s9RmEEFUT_Ddy81mC76VRjuLR7Dma_ijTVLAWRt9MxqV08Ax1EqP8-21xfwWXlTekL2yN-LlV9LvS-LAq6pXbGa/s1600/10-3-06+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRayX29atUyHIsRd4TVYAhOhgM6VwP_3FDn_mqNZd7MRu8V3YLRZqM7s9RmEEFUT_Ddy81mC76VRjuLR7Dma_ijTVLAWRt9MxqV08Ax1EqP8-21xfwWXlTekL2yN-LlV9LvS-LAq6pXbGa/s320/10-3-06+030.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFUXct4oqI/AAAAAAAAEhY/I-Yz1OWLv0w/s1600/10-3-06+070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFUXct4oqI/AAAAAAAAEhY/I-Yz1OWLv0w/s320/10-3-06+070.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFUSZSUWrI/AAAAAAAAEhI/nstodCyGUsY/s1600/10-3-06+026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TJFUSZSUWrI/AAAAAAAAEhI/nstodCyGUsY/s320/10-3-06+026.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-89936638405259721252010-09-15T15:14:00.000-07:002010-09-15T15:14:38.636-07:00The Very Best BuySo a while back, my work bought a 47" flat screen television for our community/rec room. Because all the 80-year olds were asking for us to pimp-out their rec room. Riiiiiiight.<br />
<br />
Anyway, we used my Best Buy "reward zone" card for the purchase. That means I earned points! It also means that it bumped me up to Premier Silver Status. (Impressive, right?) I only explain this in detail because if you know anything about Best Buy, you know it takes A LOT of $purchases$ to acheive the "Premier Silver" status. I don't want <em>anyone</em> to be jealous of our 1992 - 30" JVC "Hand Me Down from Grandma Harder" Television. <br />
<br />
So, one of the Best Buy perks was free subscription to Napster (the music down-load site) as well as 15-free credits to down load songs every 3 months. (That is equal to one album plus a song or two extra...)<br />
<br />
Today my 3-month cycle restarted & I went to request my new activation code from Best Buy.<br />
<br />
Sadly, the customer service rep said that at this time their Napster codes aren't working. They are looking into it but don't really have a solution at this point. Except they could send me a code for a free $15 iTunes gift card... or issue me a $20 Best Buy Rewards certificate. "Which one would you like?"<br />
<br />
Well, I might not have gotten better than Cs in high-school math ... And I might have taken the "alternative" math class in college, but even I know that 20 is greater than 15.<br />
So I will be receiving a $20 gift card to Best Buy for doing... NOTHING (except spending 2 minutes on the phone with "Jimmy").<br />
<br />
Too bad everything we <strong><em>NEED</em> </strong>costs over $1000, but whatever. Maybe I can get a couple movies for Christmas presents.Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-70294220305134994292010-09-10T12:52:00.000-07:002010-09-10T12:53:58.656-07:00All About ME!I never wanted to be the person that could only EVER talk about her children.<br />
So this post is all about me. Little Sara Lou Harriger.<br />
<br />
Last night, I did something for myself! I "joined" the Gospel Choir at my church. I'm so proud of me on many levels. I love singing. I love being in a choir. I've been avoiding it because "I don't know anyone". I was nervous & shy.<br />
<br />
You might think, "Oh, Sara - That's silly. You're so outgoing and SO not shy... I just can't believe you would have a problem like this."<br />
<br />
I do! I suffer from extreme lack of self confidence. If I know you - of course I'm comfortable. If I know the environment or "situation" (like being at Camp Lebanon, or going to the church I grew up in) I am totally comfortable because it is a part of ME. I belong there - even if I don't know anyone. <br />
But if I walk into a room of strangers - especially if THEY all know each-other, I feel light headed & want to puke... I get a case of the "What-ifs"...<br />
What if no one talks to me? What if they are mean? What if they don't have a joking-spirit or a sense of humor?! (You know musicians can be quite serious...). What if they don't WANT new choir members? <i>(well, they shouldn't advertise for them, I guess!)</i>. What if the lady next to me doesn't like my shirt?<br />
<br />
What if <span style="font-size: large;">What if</span> <span style="font-size: x-large;">What if!!!</span><br />
<br />
However, the MOMENT I walked into the worship center for choir practice, all my What ifs were so quickly blown away that I found myself spinning in circles trying to shake everyone's hand & still find my way to the Alto section! Then the best thing happened... one lady said "Sit there - next to me!" <br />
<br />
It was funny - I felt VERY welcomed. VERY wanted. And yet - so nervous I picked all the nail polish off my fingers. I sat next to one of the "Main" singing ladies - she's always in the choir, on stage singing Praise & Worship, etc.<br />
I had SO much fun. At the end of practice, the "main lady" (her name is Karen) even said, "Oh, I KNEW I'd like you the minute I met you."<br />
<br />
Not only do I get to sing again, but maybe my self confidence was boosted up a notch last night.Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-52909890454901886912010-09-08T13:16:00.000-07:002010-09-08T13:16:53.857-07:00Ladies & Gentlemen... Introducing....A Bona-fide Kindergartener!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TIfu1zsT6oI/AAAAAAAAEfY/nv_qZn4XGzQ/s1600/DSC05451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TIfu1zsT6oI/AAAAAAAAEfY/nv_qZn4XGzQ/s320/DSC05451.JPG" /></a></div>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-78574834291723521832010-08-25T11:37:00.000-07:002010-08-25T11:38:25.176-07:00Let's Take a vote:If you think Hayley should go to Kindergarten, raise your hand!<br />
If you think Hayley should stay a teeny tiny baby, raise your hand!<br />
<br />
I didn't think I would, but as the day gets closer & I say "Hayley's going to Kindergarten"... I get a little weepy. I don't think it is sadness. I am not sad. I don't stay-home with her, so I'm not going to miss her any differently as I do now during the day. It isn't like a part of my day will be ripped away from me.<br />
I think the tears are of pride, of joy & anticipation. And a little nervous. I am nervous, because my elementary school experienced... well, it sucked. (forgive the language - it could have been worse).<br />
I fear that my daughter will have the same experience and I hope that doesn't keep me from allowing her to enjoy it. I also hope & pray that she will be a ray of sunshine and a blessing to the teacher - as she is to me (us). I pray the kids fall in love with her. She is such a sweet friend. I also hope & pray SHE isn't the mean-girl. We witnessed a bit of it this summer and it isn't fun to see.<br />
<br />
Tim and I decided she will not be riding the bus this year. (We'll see how long that lasts). Why did we make this decision? We have a combined 25 years of school-bus riding experience. Only 3 of those years were "okay". It isn't like anything ever happened to me on the bus, but I remember sitting right behind the driver, so people wouldn't be mean to me. I feared the stoners in the back seat, I feared the "popular girls/boys" in the middle & I was okay with the geeks & nerds and the driver. (I am in denial, possibly, that I WAS one of the geeky nerds?). I also have heard 2 or 3 horror stories from friends' kids experience.<br />
I know I know... she'll be fine. She will actually be mad at me if I don't let her ride the bus. We'll see.<br />
<br />
For now, we asked for her to be in PM kindergarten. This means Tim will drive her to school & either I will pick her up, or she could take the bus home. (I have a sinking feeling that come the first snow fall, I will opt for the bus-ride).<br />
<br />
But mainly - I am SO overwhelmed with pride. I love my Hayley Anne. She is so brilliant and beautiful.<br />
<br />
(I love Hannah, too. But this isn't about her today.)Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-65590528490269435432010-08-23T12:34:00.000-07:002010-08-23T12:43:45.939-07:00And then there was one...This story might make my parents a little bummed that I shared it with the world, but it has a good outcome and is actually funny to me. If any of you have spent more than an hour with Hannah, you'll know it is 99% her "fault" - if fault were to be given.<br />
My parents took H&H this weekend to the Butterfield Thresherman's Association's Annual Threshing Bee.<br />
We went every summer when I was a kid and it was the best weekend of the summer. SO much fun. Very Little House on the Prairie - (only with tractors).<br />
<div><br />
<span style="color: #310500; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #310500;"><span style="color: #310500;"><span style="color: #310500; font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b><img src="http://butterfieldmn.com/images/2006%20Bee%20Em%20+%20Phil.jpg" style="height: 146px; width: 190px;" /><img src="http://butterfieldmn.com/images/bee5.bmp" style="height: 145px; width: 199px;" /></b></span></span></span></span></div>They have an old-fashioned village where you can churn butter, make candles, etc... Petting zoo, antique tractors, old one-room school house, hay balers, etc.<br />
<br />
They were at the play-area and mom tells dad she has to go to the ladies room & leaves.<br />
When she returns, she asks dad... "Where's Hannah?".<br />
"I thought Hannah went to the bathroom with you. You always take one with you."<br />
"No... I didn't."<br />
<br />
They were about to split up to find her when they hear: "<i>Attention guests, we have Hannah in the office. She's 4 years old and she's looking for her grandma Elaine.</i>"<br />
<br />
Want to know how i found out about this? <br />
When they returned, Hannah says "Mommy, when we were at the farmers' market, I couldn't find grandma and grandpa and went to the food ladies and they brought me to the office and gave me a YUMMY sucker."<br />
<br />
I think her whole point was to tell me that she got a yummy sucker.<br />
<br />
I turn to my mom and say... <br />
"Elaine" <br />
<silence> ~ silence ~<br />
"Mother" <br />
<silence>~ silence ~</silence></silence><br />
<silence><silence> "Mother, did you loose my daughter at the Threshing Bee?" <br />
<silence> </silence></silence></silence><br />
<silence><silence><silence>~ silence ~"Hannah, we don't have to tell mommy <i>EVERY</i>thing we did!".</silence></silence></silence><br />
<br />
Apparently Hannah followed my mom for a while, got distracted, & lost her. <br />
<br />
So she did what we have taught her to do!! (Tim & I get credit for SOMETHING good!) <br />
<br />
We have always told the girls if they get lost to find a "worker" or a "policeman" or else a mommy that has little kids with her. Hannah walked up to the "food ladies" at a booth where they just bought lunch & said "I am looking for Grandma."<br />
<br />
I can't get mad at my mom & dad because, like I said, I know Hannah. <br />
<br />
And, I lost Hayley at Target once.<br />
<br />
And at Cub once.Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-78582364940249387742010-08-19T08:04:00.000-07:002010-08-19T08:04:32.954-07:00T minus 2-poundsWhat does that mean? "T Minus..." You hear it a lot when people are counting down, right? "T minus 10, 9, 8..."<br />
<br />
OF COURSE I had to look it up.<br />
<br />
Side note, my friend & coworker, Noelle (HI NOELLIE!) calls me Lil' Claven. As in Cliff Claven. As in the mail-man on Cheers (if you need me to explain Cheers, just never mind.)... He's the one who knows random facts about random things & always feels like everyone cares to hear those facts... So, apparently I have a reputation? Sorry. But would you have EVER found out <strong>why</strong> they are called "Spare Ribs" if not for lil' Claven!?<br />
<br />
So forgive my Claven moment here.<br />
<br />
When launching a rocket or shuttle, they say "T minus 3 minutes" the T stands for "Time"... Time stands for the moment of launch. So that means "in 3 minutes we'll be hitting this shiny red button over here". <br />
I also learned that after launch it turns to "T plus..." meaning the time the rocket is in the air. (You are welcome)<br />
<br />
So TECHNICALLY my title today should be "W minus 2 pounds" because since Tuesday, that is the Weight I've lost! <strong>YAY ME</strong>. (It is Thursday - 2 pounds, 2 days. Good Bye water-weight!).<br />
<br />
(Seriously? It took me 209 words to say "I lost 2 pounds"?)<br />
<br />
I think my goal is to loose 100 pounds before either of my children hit 100 pounds. <br />
<br />
But this isn't a weight-loss blog. Nope it isn't.<br />
<br />
And to prove this, I want to share a super fun blog/website with you. <br />
<br />
I think I saw this on one of Yahoo!'s top 30 stories today. A woman lost her job, she was inspired by the movie Julie/Julia and apparently Eat, Pray, Love... anyway she was feeling blue & blah at this point in her life and wanted to do something fun. She went on a mission to take 365 "ugly dresses" & each day convert one dress into something beautiful, lovely and wearable. We're talking - MuMus, Old woman's house-coats, Mother-of-the Bride frocks from 1984... And she set her budget for the entire project for $365. I am not clear if that includes the price of the garments, or just the amount she's allowed to spend on thread, beads, needles, or apparently alchohol & food as she eats out & parties each night to celebrate. Whatever - I judge not. (well, just a little, maybe).<br />
<br />
<a href="http://newdressaday.wordpress.com/">http://newdressaday.wordpress.com/</a><br />
<br />
She is approximately half way through her journey. Her "Before" pictures are enough to make me a little bit ill, but the "After" pictures are awesome. Makes me want to go through the thrift store a little slower!<br />
<br />
Enjoy her blog. I did. <br />
(I tried to throw a sample/teaser photo at you, but couldn't. I fail.)Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-4757699357293676612010-07-28T20:01:00.000-07:002010-07-28T20:01:13.974-07:00Holy Moley Rocky.I don't want this to be a weight loss blog. It will HOPEFULLY contain some of that, but it is about our family, our adventures and occassionally pictures of the 2 cutest girls I have ever made.<br />
<br />
One of my residents keeps telling me how good I look and how much weight I must be loosing...<br />
So out of curiosity, I got on the scale.<br />
<br />
SHE IS A STINKING LIAR. <br />
<br />
My OBGYN said WHEN I loose 100 pounds, she'll throw me a party. In my attempts to start weight-loss since my annual physical, I have gained 10 freakin' pounds. (& did I mention that Tim lost 15 pounds in TWO WEEKS).<br />
<br />
My appointment was approximately 6 weeks ago. At this rate, by my 2011 appointment, I will weigh 4,950 pounds. I BET she won't throw me a party, but indeed an intervention & a trip to Jillian Michael's Fat Camp.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TFDtFBE9eoI/AAAAAAAAEbE/ibKS6rk1AQo/s1600/muppets-kermit-miss-piggy_l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TFDtFBE9eoI/AAAAAAAAEbE/ibKS6rk1AQo/s320/muppets-kermit-miss-piggy_l.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Unless Tim turns into a frog, I don't think I will be very fashionable.<br />
<br />
So, It is ON.<br />
<br />
Tonight, I took the girls to the exercise room tonight. <br />
Screw the RULES. (#1, NO CHILDREN ALLOWED IN EXERCISE ROOM). <br />
I'm going to interpret that as - do not send your 13 year old grandson up here alone because you don't want to entertain him. I also read that as "if any other resident comes to use the room, pack up and leave as fast as you can."<br />
<br />
The girls sat quietly watching me jiggle on the treadmill for 1 minute and 29 seconds before whining about being bored, wanting to exercise with me and why can't we ride on the Tony Little's Gazelle?!?!<br />
(apparently the 5 books and 4 Barbies weren't enough to keep them busy).<br />
Thankfully, someone left some free weights in the corner. So I had them lifting weights over their head and count to 20. Then had them do sit ups and push-ups. Hayley tried to teach Hannah how to do a "proper bridge". But Hannah assumed the "Crab-walk position" and declared "I will do NEW push-ups."<br />
<br />
Our exercise room is about the size of most people's bathrooms. It is TINY. There is a very nice bike and treadmill. There is a rinky-dink bike, a crunch/row machine thing... <br />
<br />
There is also a Gazelle! You KNOW you have seen the infomercials for these... a superly mis-proportioned, long-curly blonde hair "Ken" doll, wearing a baseball hat - skin-tight tank-top and biker shorts... <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_N0p-8I912jYmNmVI9Svk4AUFY1LcoeaTSIy7uawJLJD3t9v4KGnizwzDWw_VmQNQIUw486NphQ5ODJpgJrIs7_j-yxiju_l50vB7sqPauB0yHeDa4aRZwNK6MZrZ_YaZvt5kLF7C4jnu/s1600/gazelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_N0p-8I912jYmNmVI9Svk4AUFY1LcoeaTSIy7uawJLJD3t9v4KGnizwzDWw_VmQNQIUw486NphQ5ODJpgJrIs7_j-yxiju_l50vB7sqPauB0yHeDa4aRZwNK6MZrZ_YaZvt5kLF7C4jnu/s320/gazelle.jpg" /></a></div>The gazelle is like an eliptical machine. Whatever. We have one. I almost successfully tipped it over. <br />
<br />
Did I mention that this little closet-of-an-exercise-room has no air conditioning? There is a ceiling fan (that is approximately 2 inches from the top of my head when I'm on the treadmill).<br />
BRING ON THE SWEAT!<br />
<br />
So, tonight I walked for 12 minutes. I Gazelled for 5 minutes & rode the nice bike for 5 minutes. Then the girls were getting a bit antsy, I was sweating my butt off, so we left. <br />
<br />
Tomorrow I hope to get up to 30 minutes. I will bring the girls' DVD player.<br />
<br />
I don't feel like anyone needs to know the number I weigh, so I'll just say I weigh 110 pounds. When that number gets to zero, we'll have a party at the OBGYN office. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TFDu7Xe8mhI/AAAAAAAAEbY/i2_xZxWWf-M/s1600/confused%2520face-200x200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/TFDu7Xe8mhI/AAAAAAAAEbY/i2_xZxWWf-M/s320/confused%2520face-200x200.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">(I have 110 pounds to work on a different location...)</div>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-32890996571805650832010-07-23T15:33:00.000-07:002010-07-23T15:33:18.784-07:00The Great "Barbie" Challenge ...or... To Make a Short Story Long...My girls recently asked me, "When do we get to play with Barbies?".<br />
<br />
Let me explain something. When I turned 15, I decided it was socially unacceptable for me to continue playing Barbie. I was forced to box them up & stick them in the basement. Under the guise of "getting rid of a few things" I would go to mom's house, pull the box down & "sort through" - ALWAYS ending up brushing out all the Barbies' hair, switching their clothes around, making sure they were rotated so not one Barbie got too much time with one of the Kens...<br />
<br />
Coinciding with "Barbie" fever has been "Disney Princess Fever". Not long after that question, I was at the thrift store and I found all the Disney Princess "barbies" - Belle, Ariel, Aurora, Snow White, Cinderella and even the newest Princess, Tiana. For $2 each. (The package of those same dolls @ Target = $60.) Then the girls got on this crusade: "Mommy. The Princesses miss their friends Jasmine, Mulan and Pocahontas." Thanks to Once Upon a Child & Ebay The Princesses are all reunited. We even found Giselle from "Enchanted". <br />
I decided that the standard Princess dresses are a bit non-practical for daily wear (reserved only for Grande Balls and Prince-getting Parties). Plus, Belle & Jasmine arrived naked. I started shopping for Barbie clothes. Those suckers are EXPENSIVE and not so nice. Barbie has become quite the Hoochie since I was a girl.<br />
<br />
(this is the part where you can start to get nervous for me): <br />
One night, I was at JoAnn Fabrics & saw "ALL PATTERNS $1". <br />
So I found the pattern pack for Barbie clothes.<br />
I spent $15 on remants and quarter-yard cuts of fancy Prom-dress fabrics.<br />
I embarked to clothe the Princesses myself.<br />
Here is how my first dress-making adventure went:<br />
<br />
1. Didn't read pattern where it said "Cut Two pieces".<br />
2. Sewed one piece to the bodice before realizing, I needed 2... & of course I used 120 stitches per inch and didn't have a seam ripper.<br />
3. Figured that out, cut the 2nd piece, re-sewed to bodice.<br />
4. As I'm sewing the skirt pieces, the fabric rests itself on the mini-iron my mom lent me for this project.<br />
The bottom of the fancy prom-dress fabric melted into pretty little scallop-shapes.<br />
5. While trying to iron a seam, the side of the iron rests on a piece of the bodice & melts a small hole up there.<br />
6. As I try to readjust the position of the iron to be far away from my fabric, I drop it on the bag of bread that Hannah brought me... melting the bag & coating the iron with plastic. Which smells delicious.<br />
7. I turn off the iron, but before it cooled down I set my middle finger down & burn myself.<br />
8. I think some bad thoughts about my situation, but persevere.<br />
9. I get to the hem! I'm almost there!!!<br />
<br />
10. Then the bobbin strikes. <br />
For those who don't know sewing machines: The bobbin (on my machine) is hidden within the machine and you don't see it. It provides half of your stitch & without it, you get nothing but little holes in your fabric where the needle went in & out... You forget about the bobbin. At some point, it runs out of thread. The curse: as you are sewing/quilting... it runs out of thread approximately 45 minutes before you realize it.<br />
<br />
<br />
So, unaware of the bobbin bailing on me - I proudly pull the dress off the machine!!!! And 1/2 the hem is missing. Really? So, there is a partly completed, kind of burned purple sparkly dress behind my couch right now.<br />
<br />
<br />
Would you like to hear a cooking story next?Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-62344917380281476992010-05-26T19:37:00.000-07:002010-05-26T19:38:19.344-07:0014 Little Known Facts About Sara LouI tend to be an open book. Sometimes more open than you might wish, but ... that is me! Love me or leave me. You might have seen the phone-commercial lately that says "This is *Sara*. <sara>It takes her an hour to tell a 5 minute story..." Yup! That's me!<br />
<br />
However, every open book has something in it that you never read! Something you might have missed the first time. Tonight I'd like to share a few of those "hidden" things about myself!<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><strong><span style="color: #660000;">ONE</span></strong><br />
In elementary school, I had a BeeGees Thermos in my lunch box. It was Yellow and the picture of the 3 brothers was black & white in an Andy-Worhol/Pop-Art style.<br />
Did I have a CLUE who the Bee Gees were? No. </span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">Did I feel weird drinking from it? Yes.<br />
Did most of my teachers laugh everyday at me drinking red Kool Aid from the Gibbs Brothers' Chalice? Probably.</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">I can't remember what my lunch box was. But I remember (was traumatized?) by the BeeGees.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;">Tonight, they took the stage on American Idol & I was like... Dudes! you were in my lunch-box every day! You-all haven't aged a bit! (then I laughed pretty hard).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: #990000;">It makes me second guess everything I do for my children as they are entering the next phase of life. Should I run out & find a New Kids on the Block lunch box? Heck-Yeah I should - but not for Hayley!!!</span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #783f04;"><strong>TWO</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;">The first cassette tape I ever bought was Bobby Brown's "Don't Be Cruel". I remember being at the Crystal Target store with Grandpa Bormes. He said "Would your mom let you have that?" and I said "oh, probably." I bought it with the money I made on my paper-route.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #7f6000;"><strong>THREE</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">Which brings me to - I had a paper route. I was never "Paper Carrier of the Month" like my big brother was. I remember helping Don when I was in 4th or 5th grade. When he was old enough for a real job, I took over. It was so much fun sitting on the tail-gate of the old station-wagon & running up & down the streets, or up & down the stairs of the "ghetto" apartments we lived by. (When I say fun, I mean I totally hated it).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>FOUR</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">We also collected aluminum cans as we delivered papers. My first (& really the only) experiences with beer... are the warm, squooshed cans in the parking lot of the apartments. This is probably why I was 30 before I actually tasted beer. (& it tasted just like those warm squooshed cans smelled).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #274e13;"><strong>FIVE</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">I <em>think</em> the second album I bought was Tiffany & the third was Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth. I DARE you to guess what the fourth - sixth tapes were!! Number Seven was either Pray for Rain or DC Talk's Nu Thang.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><strong>SIX</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">I secretly snuck my brother's "Jungle Music" when he wasn't home. My favorite was Primus? Something about sailing a sea of cheese. When he was home, I yelled at him to turn it down because I couldn't hear the New Kids. But when he was listening to Metallica or Van Halen, I secretly listened through the floor vents for a while, first. Ken, Ken & Malibu Ken used to dance to "JUMP". <span style="font-size: xx-small;"> (WHAT A FREAKIN' DORK!)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><strong>SEVEN</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Speaking of dorks. That was me! I didn't really have friends in elementary school (Oh, boo hoo, right?). The kids were really cruel to me. WELL LAH-DEE-FREAKIN-DAH! I never cared! Take THAT! NEVER. CARED. The name you-all taunted me with... REALLY original, geniuses. </span><br />
<br />
(HA!)<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><strong>EIGHT</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">Since I'm on THAT subject. Around mid-sixth-grade, my mom finally said, "Sara - why don't you stand up for yourself?" I asked what that meant. She said "I don't know, but you will. If you hit him (Coley), you might get in trouble at school, but you won't get in trouble at home."</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">So one day, Coley did something really creepy to me. I walked up to him, squared up to him &... BOOM he hit the ground. Yup! The biggest girl in class knocked over the biggest (nastiest) boy in class.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">It was after that day, this girl got a little respect.</span> <span style="color: #8e7cc3;">(oh, and p.s. I never got in trouble at school. In fact, the 6th grade teacher confided in me... She was SO happy that I stood up for myself, she almost clapped for me. AND she sent HIM to the office and HE got sent home!)</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;"><strong>NINE</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">Ahhh How cleansing. I beat up a boy in sixth grade. Sometime ... maybe during our junior year... that boy walked past me in our high-school and smiled and said "Hi Sara". I just stared at him and said... "hi."</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">What I WANTED to say was... HOW DARE YOU SAY HI TO ME??!?!! You have NO right to say HI to ME! Then I wanted to push him over. BUT by this time, he was the linebacker on the football team and was at least 4 inches taller than me... I didn't go there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;">It is hard to stray from that topic! LOL.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><strong>TEN</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">How about we switch to the fact that I really failed my driver's test when I was 16. The guy gave me my exam paper, said "Congrats you pass." wrote "Pass" on the top in a red marker & then walked away. I filled out the paper for my license & went home. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;">The next day I was sitting in math class, super excited about my new freedom... and pulled out my calculator. I THINK you needed 65 points to pass. I added them up for an hour & each time got 62.</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #660000;">ELEVEN</span></strong><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">When I was really young - maybe 4 or 5 years old? My dad had a motorcycle. We used to go for rides together (maybe I was older?). One time, I fell asleep on the back. To this day I think that is why dad got rid of it.</span> <br />
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<strong><span style="color: #783f04;">TWELVE</span></strong><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;">When I was about 18 months old, my brother "pushed" me into the coffee table & I needed a stitch or 2 in my face. When I was about 2, Don and I were jumping on the bed and I fell off and broke my collar bone. I also broke my collar bone at birth. Actually MOM broke my collar bone. Those were the only injuries I had until 6th grade. Then my finger met the sharp end of the apple-peeler-corer-slicer... 'Nuff Said.</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #7f6000;">THIRTEEN</span></strong><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">I have attended a NKOTB concert at every major venue in Minneapolis/St. Paul except the Metrodome. Harriet Island, the Met Center, the Target Center and Excel Energy Center <span style="color: #e06666;">(Thanks Becky</span>!).</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #274e13;">FOURTEEN</span></strong><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">In 8th Grade, I entered a dance contest with 4 friends to win tickets to the NKOTB concert. We made it to the semi-finals! GO US! Then we turned into these 5 freakishly 14-year-old girls and blew our routine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">Is anyone bored yet?</span>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-40076688061247303252010-05-06T20:57:00.000-07:002010-05-06T21:16:15.981-07:00Hannah Jase HarrigerSince this is "Mother's Day Week", I decided to write letters to my girls! I think I might just write one for my mom & Tim's mom, too.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGBFBDl8-wzgdcONftabjJLTz5YNlFX7PezrhS-KBSvADmy1EEtcwfbH5eDIRjPOvy7hDiP58qq68-7zGXOag35gyauFb3EWlZFyI4eHhaOZ7P1sQdA_Suhv39yVt-f1h8BE8yQAAhnNQ/s1600/10-3-06+123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGBFBDl8-wzgdcONftabjJLTz5YNlFX7PezrhS-KBSvADmy1EEtcwfbH5eDIRjPOvy7hDiP58qq68-7zGXOag35gyauFb3EWlZFyI4eHhaOZ7P1sQdA_Suhv39yVt-f1h8BE8yQAAhnNQ/s320/10-3-06+123.jpg" tt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #ea9999; color: purple; font-size: large;">Hannah Jase Harriger</span></div>My dearest Hannah,<br />
Where in the world do I start with you. You are an AMAZING gift from God. God knows what we need before we need it and He knew I needed you. I'm sure by now you have heard the story a million times about how you came to join our family. If not, ask me now! I do love telling it.<br />
<br />
From the SECOND you were born, I was madly and deeply in love with you. Almost immediately you were taken away from me because you weren't breathing very well on your own. You need just a little help. It was in those moments I realized how lucky we were to have you. To have the possibility exist that you would be sick - or taken away - broke my heart. The nurses kept saying you were doing better and that was the one thing I held on to. Daddy was allowed to bring a visitor to see you in your bubble, but I was the only one not allowed to see you. I cried.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OF7iXbNKI/AAAAAAAAEOQ/Rg97VC3ETrs/s1600/10-3-06+060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OF7iXbNKI/AAAAAAAAEOQ/Rg97VC3ETrs/s320/10-3-06+060.jpg" tt="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
You fit right into our family. From the beginning, your big sister LOVED you to pieces. She wanted to sit next to me & hold your feet when I fed you. She wanted to sit right next to you in the swing (well, she wanted to push you in the swing...). She was (and is) the best big sister I could have hoped for for you.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OTuZsZvTI/AAAAAAAAESE/s85bxQwWioM/s1600/10-3-06+097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OTuZsZvTI/AAAAAAAAESE/s85bxQwWioM/s200/10-3-06+097.jpg" tt="true" width="200" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OTo0UnJzI/AAAAAAAAER8/gckdb16YwXU/s1600/10-3-06+082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OTo0UnJzI/AAAAAAAAER8/gckdb16YwXU/s200/10-3-06+082.jpg" tt="true" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYsHjsB2oYCby1ZleazFrIbN3shte_pwS9wyDGGJIs10ZruE4z7_h8TSoDTCI-X2IKbdy3dcTTQoHINbmS-_Fd2wMocep6bQ5bVxF2Jr0IA2lU8u2ek06_jNZ4bjkPrNw9en1QWk-EbLgU/s1600/10-3-06+142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYsHjsB2oYCby1ZleazFrIbN3shte_pwS9wyDGGJIs10ZruE4z7_h8TSoDTCI-X2IKbdy3dcTTQoHINbmS-_Fd2wMocep6bQ5bVxF2Jr0IA2lU8u2ek06_jNZ4bjkPrNw9en1QWk-EbLgU/s200/10-3-06+142.jpg" tt="true" width="200" /></a></div><br />
You had a rough few months. You cried. All. The. Time. Not just cry, but "Oh My Goodness, someone do SOMETHING because the world is ending" kind of crying (just ask Grandma Harder... she'll tell you). However, everytime I held you, or fed you... you were quiet. You loved me. You were MY girl.<br />
<br />
You were such a darling baby. You were also fiercely independent from day one. You WILL do what YOU want to do ... WHEN you want to do it. If Mommy asked you to jump, you'd lay down. If I asked you to pick up a book, you'd bring over 3 beanie babies. Grandma said your ears must be broken, but we both know... You were just marching to your own little band.<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OHnSZAX6I/AAAAAAAAEOY/j9DrvMdKoYw/s1600/Whazzzzup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OHnSZAX6I/AAAAAAAAEOY/j9DrvMdKoYw/s320/Whazzzzup.jpg" tt="true" /></a></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">You are SUCH a silly girl. You always are goofing around, making funny faces, telling funny jokes. When you were about 3 years old, you came to me & said... "Why did the Banana go to the doctor?" ... "Because He wasn't Peeling Very Well!!!" You make me laugh. You make me smile.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXAv9r0dvI0V8MWNuRiRm82wvCrlp3BrXQYu_XJkIcYDYGjiiqHrmVa8yezC8jRxcRSQ_hTVcF3H5L2vT6pWPvGMksrzGxkdr4qygDy92uYHR7OgEZYiYururGRcb5FYbwJ6ymrwZgQPi/s1600/DSC02745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXAv9r0dvI0V8MWNuRiRm82wvCrlp3BrXQYu_XJkIcYDYGjiiqHrmVa8yezC8jRxcRSQ_hTVcF3H5L2vT6pWPvGMksrzGxkdr4qygDy92uYHR7OgEZYiYururGRcb5FYbwJ6ymrwZgQPi/s200/DSC02745.JPG" tt="true" width="200" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OKHJSSgLI/AAAAAAAAEO0/qb5ZWifL6aM/s1600/DSC02744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OKHJSSgLI/AAAAAAAAEO0/qb5ZWifL6aM/s200/DSC02744.JPG" tt="true" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">You are also a very dramatic girl. You will run to me and say "awwwwwwww mommy! I LOVE you!" and give me a bear-hug. If you see something you like or get something you want... You stare at it & then fall over. then you say "HOW DID YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU!"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OM6B8PMSI/AAAAAAAAEPM/56YdAFqkids/s1600/DSC03150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OM6B8PMSI/AAAAAAAAEPM/56YdAFqkids/s320/DSC03150.JPG" tt="true" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-ONycEEpII/AAAAAAAAEPc/NJusavrTIWM/s1600/DSC03139+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-ONycEEpII/AAAAAAAAEPc/NJusavrTIWM/s320/DSC03139+2.jpg" tt="true" /></a></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On the flip-side: If you are corrected or disciplined - you completely melt down into a little puddle of Hannah. You have always cried until your lips turned blue. You cry... 'BUT MOMMY!!! I LOOOOOOOOOVE YOU!' if I put you in time out or tell you now. I LOVE it. Everytime you do it, I want to scoop you up & give you loves and hugs and kisses. HOWEVER, mommy must stay strong.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmXqDG43nIhxJEFXIOET4VTSkE4ZAeC9RJGygoWR4gPj23yLQRu3I_EhDUYEqgFYjXDcShnYnVl4PKlxOQvTR09sIKdfTJBGHcWOoCT2-tkaDhkTU7QL0d3nwREA0Wb9alwLaGwphMaJE/s1600/DSC02676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmXqDG43nIhxJEFXIOET4VTSkE4ZAeC9RJGygoWR4gPj23yLQRu3I_EhDUYEqgFYjXDcShnYnVl4PKlxOQvTR09sIKdfTJBGHcWOoCT2-tkaDhkTU7QL0d3nwREA0Wb9alwLaGwphMaJE/s320/DSC02676.JPG" tt="true" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As you grow up and turn into a little lady, I wish the very best for you. You are so tender, so sweet. I can see you helping others - either as a nurse, a teacher or a circus clown!</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Hannah, you are such a bright light in my life. I love you forever.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OO8KdgwXI/AAAAAAAAEPs/AL0AagAUugQ/s1600/DSC02013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-OO8KdgwXI/AAAAAAAAEPs/AL0AagAUugQ/s320/DSC02013.JPG" tt="true" /></a></div><br />
</div>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-80733416906538099752010-05-04T20:36:00.000-07:002010-05-04T21:06:38.739-07:00My Darling, Hayley Anne. My First Born.<span style="font-size: x-small;">So, my friend Jennie (who lives in my computer) inspired this.</span> <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In honor of what allows me to celebrate "<strong><span style="color: purple;">Mother's Day</span></strong>", I will be writing a little letter to my children.</div><br />
Since she was first... she gets to be first.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DlhhKdh2I/AAAAAAAAENU/NzgrQ8ww8ps/s1600/IMG_1048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DlhhKdh2I/AAAAAAAAENU/NzgrQ8ww8ps/s320/IMG_1048.jpg" tt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: #ea9999;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">Hayley Anne <span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat;">Harriger</span></span></span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">My whole life, I dreamt about being a mom. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">A veterinarian, a teacher, a missionary in <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">Hoochie</span><span style="background-color: white;">-<span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat;">HulaLand</span></span> (just a bit south from Singapore, I think) and a mom. You made this dream possible. (The others didn't work so well for me).</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">You were no surprise to me. I knew it was the right time for daddy and I to become parents. I knew I was pregnant *almost* the moment it happened. When I was pregnant, I knew you'd be a strong individual. I knew you'd have a fiery spirit that would eventually get you in trouble. You would kick daddy in the head when he tried to "listen" to you in my belly.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DfhzmvFpI/AAAAAAAAEM8/15zL3LiF6is/s1600/Daddy.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DfhzmvFpI/AAAAAAAAEM8/15zL3LiF6is/s200/Daddy.JPEG" tt="true" width="200" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DfoJiBA5I/AAAAAAAAENE/KLj2m65YjS4/s1600/Kissing+baby.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DfoJiBA5I/AAAAAAAAENE/KLj2m65YjS4/s200/Kissing+baby.JPEG" tt="true" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">You showed your stubborn personality even before you were born. You didn't WANT to come into this world, and no one could make you. You were 2 weeks late. All the begging & pleading I did couldn't convince you it was nice "out here". Every night I cried "please PLEASE come out! I'll be super nice! I promise" One night I *think* I bribed you with a pony & some ice cream. But since you refused... Sorry - no pony. I would watch birth-shows on Cable & say "Doesn't that look easy, baby? You can do it!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Toward the end, daddy was even begging you... "PLEASE MAKE IT END!" (I wasn't very nice to be around... I'll admit it).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This picture was 2 days before you came out!</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqE9doqF7G7ov32jIrmI9va_XqlgkaS25UCXz0-_2s0rzQ3nmfZ5crlkmzgcOHUc91lAyUsG6KNO8KpD_K4woAS1EjYTzmQidZtTHZdTstgmOxqihHJeevkwzdrTK-W_PYYgSY2zZIQRXf/s1600/42.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqE9doqF7G7ov32jIrmI9va_XqlgkaS25UCXz0-_2s0rzQ3nmfZ5crlkmzgcOHUc91lAyUsG6KNO8KpD_K4woAS1EjYTzmQidZtTHZdTstgmOxqihHJeevkwzdrTK-W_PYYgSY2zZIQRXf/s200/42.JPEG" tt="true" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Even when the doctors gave me medicine to get you out - you stayed your ground. They had to go in after you & you were NOT happy that someone found a way around your determination.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">As daddy has told you MANY times - you came out SCREAMING.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-Deg6VZDwI/AAAAAAAAEMk/bpRAgYn2zkY/s1600/crybaby.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-Deg6VZDwI/AAAAAAAAEMk/bpRAgYn2zkY/s200/crybaby.JPEG" tt="true" width="150" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">When we were in the hospital, many nurses commented about how you were an "old soul" - meaning <span style="background-color: white;">s<span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat;">omeone</span></span> who has been here before. Of course we don't believe *that* way, but there was a look in your eye that said "Mom, don't try anything funny- I have my eye on you..."</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8UDj_fay3HoDGcac5rIglaqRayqhWDZ4coGJbZkdY928hFtHGxUpOTtC-7lv5lvvAN-DIABKPrwgP7HDij5UHJGZ9skqW-_IKFJhr3FWFt_vy5b1s7yYL-LaxEZ8hgfaqkqK9WZz2T4L/s1600/Alert.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8UDj_fay3HoDGcac5rIglaqRayqhWDZ4coGJbZkdY928hFtHGxUpOTtC-7lv5lvvAN-DIABKPrwgP7HDij5UHJGZ9skqW-_IKFJhr3FWFt_vy5b1s7yYL-LaxEZ8hgfaqkqK9WZz2T4L/s200/Alert.JPEG" tt="true" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DezoxoEoI/AAAAAAAAEMs/yDpaihoL1qE/s1600/eyes+wide+open+small.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DezoxoEoI/AAAAAAAAEMs/yDpaihoL1qE/s200/eyes+wide+open+small.JPG" tt="true" width="150" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">You were determined to do things your way. Mommy wanted to exclusively nurse you until you were about a year old. You allowed me to try for 5 months before you made it <strong>PERFECTLY</strong> clear you were done. There were way too many things to look at to be bothered by such trivialities as "eating".</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">You MUST have been reading through my belly button at all the development books. You rolled over at 4 months, you sat up at 6 months, you broke your first teeth at 6 months. 9-months standing & trying to step. 12 months - running as fast and as far as you desired. You like to do things by the book. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">You don't like things to be different from the way they're supposed to be. You yell at daddy when he changes words to songs, you asked me not to sing along with songs because you like it the way it is supposed to be heard. I pray that isn't a reference to my singing ability (which I think is pretty awesome).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">You are a rule-enforcer. Always telling me when Hannah is getting into trouble, or correcting a child at the playground when he is doing something he <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">shouldn</span>'t (even if it is something you just did yourself).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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You are determined to make everything "right" in your world. If I call grandpa "Dad" on accident, you say "Oh! I get it! You called him DAD because my grandpa is YOUR daddy! Right?"</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">When you see a dog, you make sure we all know that at one time, he used to be a puppy.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Silly? Yes you've been silly since day 1 (or maybe day 3.)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTRB1b-MSz-xAqM8cGGDndQ6Mro4a1tdrULE2k5Eht-R-mcYqPjTpOsG-Yhr8Lofv6hTPvPwYKWq6X-qc3O9Y2MtHyPe9COJQGaMVTwxU3UU1xkXBdYkL3IWTQ7KyCq5JrVEU_fH7Zd7Y/s1600/IMG_0012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTRB1b-MSz-xAqM8cGGDndQ6Mro4a1tdrULE2k5Eht-R-mcYqPjTpOsG-Yhr8Lofv6hTPvPwYKWq6X-qc3O9Y2MtHyPe9COJQGaMVTwxU3UU1xkXBdYkL3IWTQ7KyCq5JrVEU_fH7Zd7Y/s200/IMG_0012.jpg" tt="true" width="150" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-Dmv0JN6EI/AAAAAAAAENk/MKtIP5fTfkg/s1600/WestRidge+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-Dmv0JN6EI/AAAAAAAAENk/MKtIP5fTfkg/s200/WestRidge+010.jpg" tt="true" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg977brezIUqy0D3WWA1s6VhJfqPPOZuUoTF1LgfDiZpYqrHTHE8pVg3QXIqZ8FUJdbHJSSPNzz0_R7ccbvIoJ6SJKE4_IhvOfDsM0-AL992FMG35r-FnXyWCdbEvbKcLaSBYlPNddeXu8l/s1600/DSC03281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg977brezIUqy0D3WWA1s6VhJfqPPOZuUoTF1LgfDiZpYqrHTHE8pVg3QXIqZ8FUJdbHJSSPNzz0_R7ccbvIoJ6SJKE4_IhvOfDsM0-AL992FMG35r-FnXyWCdbEvbKcLaSBYlPNddeXu8l/s320/DSC03281.JPG" tt="true" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">You LOVE making silly faces. You love to laugh & giggle. Your giggle could run the world... (if we lived inside "Monsters, Inc", that is).</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">You are probably the most friendly child I've ever met. Everyone is your new best friend. You always say hi to the cashier, the lady behind us, the man sitting alone. You walk right up to people & say "Hi! My name is Hayley, what is your name?" Most grown ups don't know what to do with you!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">You are a tender, sweet soul. You can't go to sleep without approximately 853 hugs & 2593 kisses. Oh. And you MUST cuddle. Since you came home from the<span style="background-color: white;"> <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">hospi</span><span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat;">tal</span></span>, dad put you to bed with me.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-AIdCO50e9CXTyx8Tt6QbESh-rtQp-P330c-LRcKBrDIeSsa2ZI5h6dK-YpzvLv-qEcIv23FGY_n2s01VY2dPIX30VYd4got5-2ZUbqt8vIH_Y9fQHC-WOoO1nMTghZEw9GFjMNVHWJk/s1600/IMG_1179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-AIdCO50e9CXTyx8Tt6QbESh-rtQp-P330c-LRcKBrDIeSsa2ZI5h6dK-YpzvLv-qEcIv23FGY_n2s01VY2dPIX30VYd4got5-2ZUbqt8vIH_Y9fQHC-WOoO1nMTghZEw9GFjMNVHWJk/s200/IMG_1179.jpg" tt="true" width="200" /></a>(<span style="background-color: white;">I didn't say YOU fell asleep <span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat;">everytime - I said you must cuddle</span></span>)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I can't say I really <em>really</em> minded the company. (<span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: yellow;">Shhhh</span> don't tell. I love it).</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">You are extremely sensitive. If you are corrected or disciplined, it is all about the emotions. You feel remorse, but mostly I think you are bummed out that you were caught.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">You are now <strike>Five years old</strike>. "<strong><em>Five and a Half</em></strong>". Excuse me. I love watching you grow taller. I love hearing you read words from books, signs, windows, bumper-stickers on cars. I love seeing you become a little lady. You have definitely rocked my world. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Next year comes the first "big" milestone in a child's life. Kindergarten. It puts into perspective all the little milestones I thought were important. At this stage, I don't remember specifically when you started crawling, I think your first words were <em>Apple</em> & <em>Puppy</em>, but I'm not sure. I remember you ate Sweet Potatoes first, but I don't know when. I know I will remember the day you walk into that big school all by yourself. (well, I get to walk you to your classroom the first day, but still...). </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Of course, you'll <em>probably</em> run into the building & beg me not to come with. You have been waiting for this moment for YEARS.<br />
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I love you Hayley Anne. You light up my life with everything you do. Even when you are grumpy and not listening, when you stomp your feet and run to your room. Sometimes I just smile & say... "I got my girl." You are like me in just about every way. We have VERY similar personalities, which I <em>believe</em> is why I allow you to stomp and run. I allow you to yell "THAT IS NOT FAIR". Because you're right! <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Mom-ism coming)</span> "LIFE IS NOT FAIR!" HA! Now we just have to learn how to deal with it.<br />
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I pray for you. Everyday I pray that God will mold you into the perfect Hayley you can be. I pray that God will guide and lead you in your life. That you will ultimately decide to allow Him to lead your life. I also pray that someday you will grow to be a strong, independent woman. A woman who knows what she wants. A woman who is determined to get it - whatever "it" is.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-Dmv0JN6EI/AAAAAAAAENk/MKtIP5fTfkg/s1600/WestRidge+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="96" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-Dmv0JN6EI/AAAAAAAAENk/MKtIP5fTfkg/s200/WestRidge+010.jpg" style="filter: alpha(opacity=30); left: 186px; mozopacity: 0.3; opacity: 0.3; position: absolute; top: 2032px; visibility: hidden;" width="72" /></a></div>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-72369428362916616512010-05-04T19:28:00.000-07:002010-05-04T19:29:35.754-07:00BY POPULAR DEMAND...And when I say "Popular", I mean 100% of those who commented on my last post requested these.<br />
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Thanks Auntie for wanting to see your great-nieces Grand nieces? How about we change it to "Awesome"... That would make you "Awesome Aunt Renee". I like that MUCH better than "Great-Aunt". You are Waaaaay too young to be a great-aunt!<br />
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These are from a couple weeks ago when the girls decided it was a good time to go swimming in the lake (yes, the water was approximately 35-degrees!)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DUuOISydI/AAAAAAAAELw/Ykp-fyCDZoY/s1600/DSC03711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DUuOISydI/AAAAAAAAELw/Ykp-fyCDZoY/s320/DSC03711.JPG" tt="true" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DUiCUQeTI/AAAAAAAAELo/ZrnS4B8__gk/s1600/DSC03702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DUiCUQeTI/AAAAAAAAELo/ZrnS4B8__gk/s320/DSC03702.JPG" tt="true" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DU4mWG-NI/AAAAAAAAEL4/I-Hzr2u-wsY/s1600/DSC03689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DU4mWG-NI/AAAAAAAAEL4/I-Hzr2u-wsY/s400/DSC03689.JPG" tt="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DVeLVZXSI/AAAAAAAAEMI/5Y8pw9fdx60/s1600/DSC03622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DVeLVZXSI/AAAAAAAAEMI/5Y8pw9fdx60/s320/DSC03622.JPG" tt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DVHd4slAI/AAAAAAAAEMA/u9vOa3xlGjE/s1600/DSC03618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sgQ5smdKCeg/S-DVHd4slAI/AAAAAAAAEMA/u9vOa3xlGjE/s320/DSC03618.JPG" tt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Okay the last 2 are from Easter (which would explain the Easter baskets and unusually neat & tidy kids!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I hope that satisfies!</div>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-69215547104452376622010-04-30T05:36:00.000-07:002010-04-30T05:36:42.040-07:00April Showers bring a New Blog PostHOLY MOLY! <br />
Why didn't anyone gently nudge me & say "Sara Lou, it has been almost 5 months since we were able to read about your BEAUTIFUL family!"???<br />
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okay - maybe someone (Carrie) did. But really. If there is anything more boring than the past 5 months... it would involve an empty room & a can of paint.<br />
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Okay - this is a mercy post.<br />
The exciting thing for today is....<br />
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There is a HUGE kids' consignment sale this week in Brooklyn Park (Just Between Friends is the *company*)...<br />
I just saw that I have sold <strong>all</strong> the new-born baby stuff at the consignment sale. Swing/bouncey/bed rail/rocker-chair/tub...<br />
<br />
It is bitter-sweet, actually. <br />
Sweet:<br />
I am not really that emotionally attached to STUFF. Right now it is just stuff that is just sitting in storage, taking up space. Tim & I aren't planning another child right now... I know that IF the Lord blesses us with a 3rd child, there will be a consignment sale or a garage sale, a cousin, a friend or TARGET when the time is right. (& I am making some good $$!)<br />
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HOWEVER - Bitter:<br />
I remember who gave me that stuff. <br />
I remember Aimie Joy & Baby Jared assembling my swing at my shower. <br />
I remember putting Hayley in the swing when she was 5 days old & Sara Jo saying "Oh, I don't think NEW babies are supposed to be in the swing yet" (but she didn't know why... so I did it & Hayley survived).<br />
I remember Hayley staring at the yellow bee hanging from the swing like it was her Special Life-Guide... communicating: "NEVER sleep, ALWAYS bounce off the walls & NEVER EVER - no matter the circumstance - listen to your father. Occassionaly you can do what mommy asks - but that is only to survive childhood..."<br />
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Guess what - <br />
I kept the yellow bee. I have pictures of Aimie & Jared *test-driving* the swing & I have a video of Baby Hayley swinging her hert out while I'm narrating "Sara Jo doesn't know..." (I LOVE YOU JO!!!)Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-73881323440043126752009-11-24T18:39:00.000-08:002009-11-24T18:39:48.420-08:00Gobble Gobble GobbleAt Hayley's kindergarten evaluation, her evaluator said "Wow, her verbal skills are EXPLOSIVE!"<br />
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*Hmmmmmmmmm Where did she get that from???<br />
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And she laughed at the picture & asked if she could keep it. I'm sure to put in her permanent record & to show the guidance counselor at the school.<br />
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We had another round of MRSA with Hannah. If you don't know what it is, that is probably good. I won't get into details, because it is gross. She has been on antibiotics for 6 days & it is almost back to normal. (Yes, nurse friends, she WILL finish the 10 days).<br />
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I should get some pictures up here soon! We had some cute ones taken at Penneys a couple weeks ago. I'll see what I can do.Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-55756938390967264062009-11-17T20:42:00.000-08:002009-11-17T20:42:24.296-08:00**Clarification**In my earlier post today, I casually mentioned "Hannah" & "Pediatric Cardiologist" in the same sentence.<br />
I guess that isn't nice! Most of you didn't know the situation...<br />
<br />
So here's the story:<br />
Hannah has had a heart murmur since birth. Apparently MOST kids have them until they are about 5... some pediatricians don't say anything because they are 'normal' & no need for alarm.<br />
<br />
However, Hannah's doctor didn't like what she heard at her 3-year well-child appointment. It didn't sound quite normal to her - so to be safe, she sent us to the Children's Heart Clinic in Minneapolis. We didn't really say anything about it because it was just a second-opinion type of deal. We didn't even tell Tim's parents until we were on our way to the appointment. We decided IF something turned out to be wrong, they should be in the know before hand!!<br />
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They took a chest X-Ray and listened to her heart for about 15-20 minutes.<br />
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Dr. Singh decided it sounded like "<i>half of the kindergarteners in the state</i>"& we could go home.<br />
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End of story!<br />
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Last year, at Hayley's 4th-year well-child exam, Dr. Benson sent her for an EKG within the clinic for her heart-murmur and they sent the strip to children's heart clinic for interpretation... I guess they can't do that anymore.Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-85675139236672536452009-11-17T08:56:00.000-08:002009-11-17T09:15:43.639-08:00Just the Facts:<div style="color: purple;">*Hayley has her Kindergarten Screening today. She drew a picture for the evaluator. A "mommy" bunny in the middle of the page, being attacked by approximately 20 large snakes. There is a baby bunny in the corner of the page "watching his mommy get eaten." Oh, my. the child psychologist is going to LOVE that picture!<br />
</div>*Tim's foot is getting better<br />
<div style="color: purple;">*Our refrigerator passed away last week. It was 25 years old. We were blessed with a WestRidge orphan. My work had a kitchen-renovation plan where they took perfectly good 8 year old refrigerators and replaced them with brand new ones. So, now we have about 5 - 10 fridges in the garage waiting for a home. I learned how to switch the doors/hinges/handles on a fridge!<br />
</div>*Our new fridge is taller than the old one, so we had to rip down the cabinets on that side of the kitchen. We uncovered a scrap of wall-paper from 1971. WOW that place was colorful at one point in time!<br />
<div style="color: purple;">*Our new health insurance was supposed to save money, but I feel like we have spent 10x more $ in the past month than we did in the past YEAR with our old insurance. But Tim also went to the urgent care or clinic 4 times in 2 weeks. (with a $45/copay each time).<br />
</div>*The Pediatric Cardiologist we were referred to by our pediatrician wasn't In-Network.<br />
<div style="color: purple;">*FYI: It costs $500 to spend 10 minutes with a pediatric cardiologist.<br />
</div>*Just how many Pediatric Cardiology clinics are there in Minneapolis? One.<br />
<b>**Update**</b> I just called the insurance company. The Cardiologist will be fully covered -minus the co-pay- because the pediatrician didn't send the referral letter to the insurance company. Really? Do insurance companies really think I would just take my 3 year old in to a cardiologist JUST FOR FUN?? Silliness.<br />
<div style="color: purple;">*Hannah gets her H1N1 vaccination on Thursday morning.<br />
</div>*Cub and Rainbow both claim to have the lowest price on turkeys in the state. Cub is 37-cents a pound & Rainbow is 42-cents a pound. SOMEONE needs to take their "claim" down, or adjust their price.<br />
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(One of those things has NOTHING to do with my family... but it really bugs me).Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6910194429382921556.post-39508842830433835062009-11-10T11:27:00.000-08:002009-11-10T11:27:27.348-08:00I'm a WINNER!<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>I am SO excited!</b><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My cyber-friend, Kathleen, had a contest on her blog from Yoplait ... <b>AND I WON</b>!<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I only had to answer a question about snacks & YAY! (Come-on. Who knows more about snacking than ME & my house?!?)<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I'll receive a coupon for a Yoplait Kids yogurt, a travel cooler (to take your yogurt on-the-go), a fun spoon that changes colors in warm water, a reusable place mat with games to keep the kids happy while snacking, and a fuzzy tangle puzzle for some after-snack fun.</span></span><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>THANK YOU KAT! She did inform me that it was random, so she didn't pick favorites :) LOL but I know I'm her favorite Minnesotan (unless she's a big Prince or Bob Dylan fan...).</span></span><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span>In Other news:</span></span></b><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Hayley turned 5 last week. She is SO proud of this. "I'm 5 - just like Vinnie".</span></span><br />
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Hannah is settling into "3" quite well. She puts her hand up like the "Okay" symbol & yells - "THIS IS MY NUMBER!" She should go work for Sleep-Number beds!!!</span></span><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Tim is recovering from a tragic, life altering injury/illness. :P He hurt his baby-toe. Before you roll your eyes & say "big Baby"... he really had a problem! He had a miriad of problems on his baby-toe & they all worked together to create much pain, 2 trips to urgent care, 2 trips to a podiatrist, an Xray, a strong Rx ibuprofen, antibiotics, a soft-walking boot/cast thing... but now he is healing quite well. He still has some pain, but NOTHING like a week ago. (Trust me, you do NOT want details, which is why they aren't included).</span></span><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>I came home (reluctantly) from camp yesterday. Mom & I went up on Friday for Quilting retreat. I scrapbooked until Saturday evening and got caught up in Hannah's Professional portraits album! I want to scrapbook the 2nd & 3rd months of her life sometime. I'd also like to do Hayley's 2nd year of life. BUT something tells me they might be 16 before that happens.</span></span><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>There you go! Our week in a nut-shell. <br />
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</div>Sara Louhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00276936032324683068noreply@blogger.com0