tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345162583162797392023-11-16T04:54:57.426-06:00One Thing I Know For SureAshley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.comBlogger404125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-47479531495761489852021-01-12T21:26:00.001-06:002021-01-12T21:26:28.565-06:00The Year of 2020<p>Ah, yes. The Year of 2020. What does one say about the year we've just had? </p><p>Some may call it The Year of Covid. </p><p>The Year of Doing Nothing. </p><p>The Year of Quarantine. </p><p>The Year of Loneliness. </p><p>I'm calling it the year of our lives. Not the worst year of our lives. No, 2020 has been the best year of our lives. Here's why.</p><p style="text-align: center;">THE YEAR OF BUILDING.</p><p>I just finished reading about our 'Year of Adventure' in 2019, and I realize that 2020 just built on that. All the skills we learned and practiced in 2019 were fine-tuned in 2020. </p><p>Because wasn't 2020 the biggest adventure of our lives? </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ANep0lmr_NTvT4x0_tFUcodIivoTSIseq-sypoM1bb5EXahiZvOmIcHhNV1H23PkA0QWBqpG38BSIPxBG3X7ObihDohK9c4ggG7SlCzoHZDrA92WNtkKYyQv21aHJuVnKhVXCNnVSxZu/s2048/56498A1A-1165-4945-8A61-6F324936831A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ANep0lmr_NTvT4x0_tFUcodIivoTSIseq-sypoM1bb5EXahiZvOmIcHhNV1H23PkA0QWBqpG38BSIPxBG3X7ObihDohK9c4ggG7SlCzoHZDrA92WNtkKYyQv21aHJuVnKhVXCNnVSxZu/w480-h640/56498A1A-1165-4945-8A61-6F324936831A.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1YL8Af6Yb3Qzdpk0D0pYh1GtVh5h99-6z9YGD4Q3-qYbdAjMA7TuRun-oIaY4DwmSBj-jiYiNSL3sFltfRJJ6IPeAOj286uEVAQlJkuCOVSM-gBjOO6y_IfR644_8dkLFsbWto600JDE/s2048/90D7565C-494C-4079-9095-825A61BB38A4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1YL8Af6Yb3Qzdpk0D0pYh1GtVh5h99-6z9YGD4Q3-qYbdAjMA7TuRun-oIaY4DwmSBj-jiYiNSL3sFltfRJJ6IPeAOj286uEVAQlJkuCOVSM-gBjOO6y_IfR644_8dkLFsbWto600JDE/w480-h640/90D7565C-494C-4079-9095-825A61BB38A4.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p>In 2018 and 2019, we were so focused on adventuring, and most of these adventures took place away from our home. These adventures were fun and exciting and new and adventure-y.</p><p></p><p>In 2020, our adventures looked different. Nature trails - car rides - library curbside pickups - smoothie runs - these were our adventures. Making these feel exciting became an adventure. </p><p>Hardest adventure of my life. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4alZF3CYwu4B0RveuC0QngIwgJR619QFFi9rk-Pqzr6PVypTjzGz-WRyVXmwUP3pb3GfbDvksbTDvjndesTvAwzKB3C49l6-yVYH10zjy1XkwpfWmDJNaHdkpJYOAgmRwXy2RoIz8XXo/s2048/6EAACC8B-8876-445F-B40D-396CDE49C045.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4alZF3CYwu4B0RveuC0QngIwgJR619QFFi9rk-Pqzr6PVypTjzGz-WRyVXmwUP3pb3GfbDvksbTDvjndesTvAwzKB3C49l6-yVYH10zjy1XkwpfWmDJNaHdkpJYOAgmRwXy2RoIz8XXo/w640-h480/6EAACC8B-8876-445F-B40D-396CDE49C045.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p>I could title an entire section of this post as THE YEAR OF WALKS because how did any mom get through 2020 without taking a bajillion walks? Some days taking this walk was the last dang thing I wanted to do in the world. </p><p></p><p>But walk, we would. And every time I wondered why I fought it so hard. After all, a walk is just a mini adventure, sometimes taking us on the most extraordinary, magical journeys - past the same houses, down the same roads, waving at the same neighbors...but what fantastic fairytales we lived on those walks. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfeAYUXxf1innnHDNBswrhCKH4JwcyPQdFuYCQE7stzwjfiYgyXrcEnMaUbk5KI6gn2fjJXHhELwvDfBGxgyRyqbeWioEPSdRO49_qadrDTI9N7KBtKWQ-PtjX7PffwQMphZw8uEg1mvtO/s2048/5EF7BA3F-BAC1-4A28-92F7-4CEEF7820531.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfeAYUXxf1innnHDNBswrhCKH4JwcyPQdFuYCQE7stzwjfiYgyXrcEnMaUbk5KI6gn2fjJXHhELwvDfBGxgyRyqbeWioEPSdRO49_qadrDTI9N7KBtKWQ-PtjX7PffwQMphZw8uEg1mvtO/w480-h640/5EF7BA3F-BAC1-4A28-92F7-4CEEF7820531.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p>The Year of Building. I'm so grateful for all that adventuring practice we had in 2018 and 2019. I'm not sure where we'd be without it. </p><p>Thanks, 2018 and 2019, for the incredible set-up. </p><p style="text-align: center;">THE YEAR OF GOODBYE.</p><p>The list of things we said goodbye to this year is lengthy. </p><p>[tradition] A lot of traditions got chopped this year. Why are we doing this? We don't know. Do we like doing this? No. Can we think of a good reason to do this? No. K bye. </p><p>[iPad] As I type this, our kids iPads have been on a top shelf for about 4 months. The almighty iPad was something we dove into without thinking, and realized after the fact that it's not a benefit for our kids. They don't need another opportunity to zone out with a screen. Some day, we'll teach them how to use tools like iPads in a constructive way, but until then - bye.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuX6HtVvao822lxeAhL3Ju0MuOV0bko8yJI6cBPEGWAJZnn-0JXol3y6ZQqUuqOi_jGvySWAj1pTifmbZpv0mWnp8QhOWJHjnczxN6DPbh1506tOGoHsHkDFPQV074fUEH6JGw1upn1ope/s4032/2B8F36B2-15F2-4804-848E-F4A068C43675.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuX6HtVvao822lxeAhL3Ju0MuOV0bko8yJI6cBPEGWAJZnn-0JXol3y6ZQqUuqOi_jGvySWAj1pTifmbZpv0mWnp8QhOWJHjnczxN6DPbh1506tOGoHsHkDFPQV074fUEH6JGw1upn1ope/w640-h480/2B8F36B2-15F2-4804-848E-F4A068C43675.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>And before you feel bad for our poor, sad, uncool kids let me tell you they're happier than they've ever been. Because they spend more time in deep play and less time begging for iPad.</p><p>Also, we are movie people! So we aren't really screen-free. In fact, back in September a friend suggested we start watching Star Wars...we're on episode 5 and our kiddos are loving it. And so are we! I'm watching as a total Star Wars newbie who knows nothing about anything. How much of a newbie? Sometime during episode 3 I turned to Jake and said "Wait, does Anakin grow up to be Darth Vadar?". I'm clueless and it's so fun.</p><p>[baby bob] Anyone who knows Carter knows he loves his doll - Baby Bob. For years, Carter has loved this baby. For years, he's carried him around and hugged him and kissed him. </p><p>He's taken him to restaurants, parks, even the barber shop. Until this year. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbND5Ad3JCkVn_1j32YZWLDIjbg31p7pDjB3lcHAzf1P6xY3rwtkVUCE-ZAtOYTg8ZmRrM2FBT7vOhoZS0napaNSEn4HdNKzKRoAaniJg5tR8sKe05LGn5U3KX7TWxEY-6lWleuIG6mGb2/s2048/F79035E0-A03C-4BAC-B43F-40F905BB707E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbND5Ad3JCkVn_1j32YZWLDIjbg31p7pDjB3lcHAzf1P6xY3rwtkVUCE-ZAtOYTg8ZmRrM2FBT7vOhoZS0napaNSEn4HdNKzKRoAaniJg5tR8sKe05LGn5U3KX7TWxEY-6lWleuIG6mGb2/w640-h480/F79035E0-A03C-4BAC-B43F-40F905BB707E.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>While at a park with friends, Carter thought Bob would like to go for a swim. In the river. The middle of the river. </p><p>The week before it happened, I remember thinking that someday Bob might disappear. I wondered how Carter would handle that. How I would handle that?</p><p>So on this day, I felt really set-up. I was prepared. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaRnzvEtGocaSElxrFzIbjj0PXT_gXoRpBD42110w9E4VN973F_hRNb7OoI0LY5qXo7gCzaiOL7gNxVRHE_HF_RYjiLgbxWOHxf7umEIi8gMeDZFzOfsQWiUlWayravutkCHQVsNMmoBpD/s2048/F8CC2213-AA63-4E63-862B-348C098AC5FF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaRnzvEtGocaSElxrFzIbjj0PXT_gXoRpBD42110w9E4VN973F_hRNb7OoI0LY5qXo7gCzaiOL7gNxVRHE_HF_RYjiLgbxWOHxf7umEIi8gMeDZFzOfsQWiUlWayravutkCHQVsNMmoBpD/w640-h480/F8CC2213-AA63-4E63-862B-348C098AC5FF.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p>A little disappointed as I saw Bob float away. A little heartbroken as Carter begged me to go get Bob. A little concerned for the boater who might find this floating baby. </p>Bye, Bob.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxE3ZHitYbemHeE8q0fMO4IHIbObKXUHnJL16GVgqQvrcQAwc_QgDwvqUjSWOuoCd0jOj3QqiWILFX84tQxde6X5I7Cgk9aL74b8c2MQzlPXjV5Vy6vfcVP27X_YW37DFC3Zfn9qHJvEL/s2048/EC471357-819F-4563-B8C6-897DD627C746.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxE3ZHitYbemHeE8q0fMO4IHIbObKXUHnJL16GVgqQvrcQAwc_QgDwvqUjSWOuoCd0jOj3QqiWILFX84tQxde6X5I7Cgk9aL74b8c2MQzlPXjV5Vy6vfcVP27X_YW37DFC3Zfn9qHJvEL/w480-h640/EC471357-819F-4563-B8C6-897DD627C746.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p>[babies] It's official this year. The baby of our family has become a little boy. His fingers are no longer pudgy and plump, but useful and strong. His long, thin feet run and jump and climb instead of plod and patter. </p><p></p><p>He uses words like "Yes, actually..." and "I believe so..." and "Oh, certainly..." and "Hey mom..." instead of "momma". He pops over for a quick hug and snuggle instead of the long stretches of togetherness that a toddler needs. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEb2pQ18Bkn85hYbw7h3a0mdv0molvXKRSQZSNCjpHdgjJntaf5o-9wA3XjkAoURFjwQWLoXXm1-fTw8uvaAV7Fo2LjIjMtrMcWdMiPV8Yrzn0dYlIHvO5bDD_hDX8zcd23A_C2u2A5z5a/s2048/36E46946-D0E1-430F-B737-AB948D57D864.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEb2pQ18Bkn85hYbw7h3a0mdv0molvXKRSQZSNCjpHdgjJntaf5o-9wA3XjkAoURFjwQWLoXXm1-fTw8uvaAV7Fo2LjIjMtrMcWdMiPV8Yrzn0dYlIHvO5bDD_hDX8zcd23A_C2u2A5z5a/w480-h640/36E46946-D0E1-430F-B737-AB948D57D864.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I like where we're headed - and I know good things are ahead. So I'll savor every mispronounced word and owie kiss until there aren't any more. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bye, useless traditions. Bye, iPads. Bye, Gibson baby. There are better things ahead! There is more! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">THE YEAR OF BRAVERY.</div><div><br /></div><div>Somewhere along the way, our kids heard the word 'brave' and tried it on for size. They didn't understand the layers, but knew enough about it that they wanted it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bravery. </div><div><br /></div><div>After some long talks with Macy this past spring, we discovered that any time she felt nervous - scared - afraid - anxious - she felt like she was failing because "that's not brave". Dear girl, bravery isn't the absence of fear. If we don't feel afraid, then the feat isn't brave. </div><div><br /></div><div>We explained to our sweet, tender, bold 5 year old that the most brave people feel scared while they do the scary thing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Late summer, Macy had enough of watching all the neighborhood kids fly around with their two wheel bikes while she squeaked along, teetering side to side on her rickety training wheels. She woke up one morning and told us she was ready. She told us she was afraid AND brave, and after dad got home from work she wanted to take off the training wheels and fly. </div><div><br /></div><div>In six minutes she went from "Dad, I don't think I can do it." to "Dad, I'm doing it!". She flew up and down the driveway, around our cul-de-sac, down our street, free as a bird. </div><div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJZtPeHjjAMpS1FlTZBvCEQcOB47sU2-kfWXRd7t6-CdAS7JnS_abIAnjF6ccqz22ncoFV5pLwEbP_zZdPSHuuRm2jqiO01rRk9tyVJPZ0LVzBdwXc535j55Wiu9jzFDe1hG78-uqirnB/s4032/F4506661-12A7-4D26-B7BB-9ECD934AF88D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJZtPeHjjAMpS1FlTZBvCEQcOB47sU2-kfWXRd7t6-CdAS7JnS_abIAnjF6ccqz22ncoFV5pLwEbP_zZdPSHuuRm2jqiO01rRk9tyVJPZ0LVzBdwXc535j55Wiu9jzFDe1hG78-uqirnB/w480-h640/F4506661-12A7-4D26-B7BB-9ECD934AF88D.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>My mama heart was flying with her. Look at this woman - taking risks - stepping into the hard thing - giving up control <i>(and rocking a unicorn helmet like nobodies dang business) </i>- can you see the confidence on her face? </div><div><br /></div><div>So brave.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course when I think of bravery, I think of Carter. I can't think of a season of his life where bravery was not required for survival. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>I could stop there.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>In 2020, we turned a blood draw into a faith boost. Anything that looks, smells, feels like a doctor is perceived as a threat by Carter. When Carter feels he's unsafe, all bets are off and he becomes super-human strong. </div><div><br /></div><div>You can imagine how a blood draw might go. But we believe that Carter is capable of repair - he CAN heal, he CAN grow, he CAN change. <i>(What's that thing we sometimes say...? Umm...oh, right. Carter CAN.)</i></div><div><br /></div><div>How can we help him repair this area of damage? We did what you do when you have a community of lovers around you. We asked for help. We explained the need, and asked people to pray. </div><div><br /></div><div>Carter walked in with a smile, rolled up his sleeve, and said "Here's my arm, take my blood!".</div><div><br /></div><div>Just kidding. </div><div><br /></div><div>Carter cried. </div><div>Carter begged us to stop. </div><div>Carter grabbed our faces and looked into our eyes. </div><div>Carter fought. </div><div>Carter squirmed. </div><div>Carter asked me to sing his favorite song <i>("More Than Conquerors").</i> </div><div>Carter relaxed. </div><div>Carter calmed. </div><div>Carter smiled. </div><div>Carter gave a thumbs up. </div><div>Carter kicked fear's ass. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuaszahsiAGNBD8xPEnud9Smb0ZQnuRUGiVUjfQINbvYuQKD3HW6O7EmUjj_DdseVh6pVbsrjZG0EDWmF6oq_VPSeWmIJlleeY-WaydWE009_84cNh5K_ruJo2bv8xRqOKMfLQOa_DWac/s2048/CD7B58AE-5BA5-4475-B096-6055BFA709FC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuaszahsiAGNBD8xPEnud9Smb0ZQnuRUGiVUjfQINbvYuQKD3HW6O7EmUjj_DdseVh6pVbsrjZG0EDWmF6oq_VPSeWmIJlleeY-WaydWE009_84cNh5K_ruJo2bv8xRqOKMfLQOa_DWac/w480-h640/CD7B58AE-5BA5-4475-B096-6055BFA709FC.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>What I just shared might seem like a loss. We see it as a tremendous win. After his blood draw, Carter sat peacefully in the same room while Jake had his blood drawn. Carter said thanks to the phlebotomist. After it was over, there was no screaming. There was no yanking us out the door. There was no endless looping for days about 'no doctor' or 'no poke'. </div><div><br /></div><div>We went for a celebratory walk on the bridge afterward, and then went home and had a normal day. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcBplPwa4z4XMA16Aa3NqkykaNCgCijLQ97Lvz22kdAi-o4sEtV05K66YgFscsbutEv7H-20gGWfqXeggUc8E_FEemNgDht77Bq9101N-_sjIEVpOv3q89zz9e5qwB8ingjO_i_Mf-rwF/s2048/99C0EFA6-6853-4C58-8E18-0902B9193294.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcBplPwa4z4XMA16Aa3NqkykaNCgCijLQ97Lvz22kdAi-o4sEtV05K66YgFscsbutEv7H-20gGWfqXeggUc8E_FEemNgDht77Bq9101N-_sjIEVpOv3q89zz9e5qwB8ingjO_i_Mf-rwF/w480-h640/99C0EFA6-6853-4C58-8E18-0902B9193294.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>This is repair. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_IJZWexPa-uyVPjMGj5JJBVYi4J-OnI1WMC_c8lXhVcZEfotFb8qQW-VHaOVcw0-JNgRvu8HAhObmUSFpEZ4RF4Umqb4dTvvkbr8xE1-ypzmDS9m56UAllNwFEX9pc5wDJjwOX0ConXOm/s2048/5FA4F5A2-1574-4964-8CF1-AE5B6E00D96B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_IJZWexPa-uyVPjMGj5JJBVYi4J-OnI1WMC_c8lXhVcZEfotFb8qQW-VHaOVcw0-JNgRvu8HAhObmUSFpEZ4RF4Umqb4dTvvkbr8xE1-ypzmDS9m56UAllNwFEX9pc5wDJjwOX0ConXOm/w480-h640/5FA4F5A2-1574-4964-8CF1-AE5B6E00D96B.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>This is bravery.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">THE YEAR OF EDUCATING.</span></div><p>How does one educate a child? Is there more than one way? What is everyone else doing? Do we have to do that? Do we WANT to do that? What else could we do? What would be best for our kids?</p><p>These are all the questions we asked which led us to our decision to homeschool our kiddos. 'Homeschool mom' is a label I never thought would be assigned to me. I didn't want it, didn't like it, didn't consider it.</p><p>Until I did. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3jsCB6KddkQZ-DTdWtrjWA9VVS1sO69mI7MAV06fvbr6EVOBwKTA8Ac86YXcCa6NmL_q9-nKGaGSuMysuHHwh6t2q141mnIvEg5ESLpsoBAJu0Ts8JahfHi-4UaA8ii5CWlnDlsqoxk2/s4032/A489C917-53AA-4DBD-8D1F-9011FEFA78F8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3jsCB6KddkQZ-DTdWtrjWA9VVS1sO69mI7MAV06fvbr6EVOBwKTA8Ac86YXcCa6NmL_q9-nKGaGSuMysuHHwh6t2q141mnIvEg5ESLpsoBAJu0Ts8JahfHi-4UaA8ii5CWlnDlsqoxk2/w640-h480/A489C917-53AA-4DBD-8D1F-9011FEFA78F8.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our reasons are simple - we want our kids to have a wild & free childhood. We want them to learn how to think, how to play, how to learn. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We're learning as we go, and we've got the best teachers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4RjBaP7edfE-zRQtku5s2BmYbH-um2nMS7-5KWk6DWPj3qo_7BMMcKdlBrxDzBwABpNnhomTE0KiKNGBDfnz46rr2Xir7fBZLjilTnwRIZFmjHEe9G6e5KAC64floBk7dazfNJ7qHvqNx/s2048/031A9FFA-18D4-4595-AD63-F889769ED44F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4RjBaP7edfE-zRQtku5s2BmYbH-um2nMS7-5KWk6DWPj3qo_7BMMcKdlBrxDzBwABpNnhomTE0KiKNGBDfnz46rr2Xir7fBZLjilTnwRIZFmjHEe9G6e5KAC64floBk7dazfNJ7qHvqNx/w480-h640/031A9FFA-18D4-4595-AD63-F889769ED44F.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">With a 6th grader who has much school damage & fresh-brained kindergartener, we eased in slowly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Phrases that carried me through our first several months of school: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-If they're not enjoying this lesson, I need to adjust. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-Homeschool is about love <i>(and there's nothing glamorous about that)</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-Relationships before rigor.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-Homeschool is less about school and more about home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-Play is the work of childhood.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-Because our home is unique, our homeschool ought to be unique.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On repeat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiBRAsYZ8KX4986h3u5YePbViauTNWoKCy2wk51pIAzg4KXXNTAqenluRc7Rjypozmt5LFCN_Dp1WR_GEI7XO9P1nkjmbkt9d0XZEo_FC1ZQcv83A2dfCa37NY4LJ2YwUH4Rd5cljmd5TU/s2048/4F32A299-BA88-4FCA-BF8F-2228C0D4DC8E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiBRAsYZ8KX4986h3u5YePbViauTNWoKCy2wk51pIAzg4KXXNTAqenluRc7Rjypozmt5LFCN_Dp1WR_GEI7XO9P1nkjmbkt9d0XZEo_FC1ZQcv83A2dfCa37NY4LJ2YwUH4Rd5cljmd5TU/w640-h480/4F32A299-BA88-4FCA-BF8F-2228C0D4DC8E.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm no homeschool expert <i>(seriously, we're 5 months in)</i> but what I've learned is this homeschool season might be my most refining of my life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoZkKoC9bA8jeLYfzdCy6ACV8q0eeiLtyXzf3WDEMWwLBUja_EcS7IKkZAXD_JMRD23TTKJ8uXAE5WP_9tmc2R0MyL7ISRuFgJHhe5IWtj9mvWYdiZR5YviUsj8dg-_I5st0ZgnZcBl6p/s2048/3B679570-57FF-4C6B-B08F-04943C9AD641.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoZkKoC9bA8jeLYfzdCy6ACV8q0eeiLtyXzf3WDEMWwLBUja_EcS7IKkZAXD_JMRD23TTKJ8uXAE5WP_9tmc2R0MyL7ISRuFgJHhe5IWtj9mvWYdiZR5YviUsj8dg-_I5st0ZgnZcBl6p/w640-h480/3B679570-57FF-4C6B-B08F-04943C9AD641.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Take all that my kids have learned in these 5 months - the writing, the reading, the math - and multiply it by 100. </div><div><br /></div><div>w + r + m x 100 = what I've learned about myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>w + r + m x 1,000 = the amount of times my own issues surfaced. </div><div><br /></div><div>Math is not my strongest subject, so I'm going to be done with that now. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm just saying, I feel I'm being refined and it's so hard and so good. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjK6TBBbjwtpbTWh03utvmOLsOdJKGWN12Jbipr4UAgJ_uFT9j1VwqZWpoWPiDhRd9eirdMhVooYcDV2lsmtakb8TZLyxbScCOv8tUlDgJnc3c4b26xsd9k_PPDCmbDotGYQYLE5Y2HFi/s2048/3F0F7A6F-0B33-42C7-9272-9A9A18B74D03.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1971" data-original-width="2048" height="616" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjK6TBBbjwtpbTWh03utvmOLsOdJKGWN12Jbipr4UAgJ_uFT9j1VwqZWpoWPiDhRd9eirdMhVooYcDV2lsmtakb8TZLyxbScCOv8tUlDgJnc3c4b26xsd9k_PPDCmbDotGYQYLE5Y2HFi/w640-h616/3F0F7A6F-0B33-42C7-9272-9A9A18B74D03.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Educating this little lady is especially refining. Like her mama, she is. Looking at her is like looking in a mirror. She's constantly confronting me without even trying. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1JgkdiEEX_bjMboFRgCqzgX_xNKXPBbgD5kcDyc2IPLJK49y2WCmredsZRrx2lHKgfQB7hzi2Swc3441D2EjEZk6piq30XMvdEUu943kR1Gi7AjjgIxINmrOAEFdqNN7csamURe_7zjG/s4032/2D2E4B38-1122-4F36-AC0D-923BF824FC69.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1JgkdiEEX_bjMboFRgCqzgX_xNKXPBbgD5kcDyc2IPLJK49y2WCmredsZRrx2lHKgfQB7hzi2Swc3441D2EjEZk6piq30XMvdEUu943kR1Gi7AjjgIxINmrOAEFdqNN7csamURe_7zjG/w640-h480/2D2E4B38-1122-4F36-AC0D-923BF824FC69.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Homeschooling. Educating. Refining. So hard. So good. </p><p style="text-align: center;">THE YEAR OF COMMUNITY.</p><p>I know this may sound strange, but 2020 was a year of community for us. We realized, more than ever, that we need a healthy community around us. We WANT a healthy community around us <i>(even when I feeeeeeeeel like just being alone). </i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmqAkryNcr3EK3ilKNdfGZfp7-s69f1FPQanileHglcv_JLk3kQnyy6U3jfERKqpU3wd1_54N6h-lnku-MWvy27kiGdAbW7qB6UaX-tN5fFYtkWJq2WpOe59FLD1uRs03C3vjqaghLoqO/s2048/47B562E4-7FB0-4F45-9800-7F3C7A41909B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmqAkryNcr3EK3ilKNdfGZfp7-s69f1FPQanileHglcv_JLk3kQnyy6U3jfERKqpU3wd1_54N6h-lnku-MWvy27kiGdAbW7qB6UaX-tN5fFYtkWJq2WpOe59FLD1uRs03C3vjqaghLoqO/w480-h640/47B562E4-7FB0-4F45-9800-7F3C7A41909B.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We also learned there are unique ways to access that community - and so WE HAVE NO EXCUSES. Isolation is not an option. Loneliness is not an option. </div><div><br /></div><div>Why would we ever choose that over this?</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaYWAYGxhGkal_aXenRvVMzvKbAoZANVwWY8a-wSywugR0hdHEJ8WbC6bCjOI2r5kpOf8IEIvPRYf9_WTi7rBsht8d8Scqwqvo1w1hl-MnBT-H4ytAy7vihw4sxwBQgfJgESaAXSR6ipgq/s2048/62F42AD0-FA87-4F9D-932C-B66CE9177287.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaYWAYGxhGkal_aXenRvVMzvKbAoZANVwWY8a-wSywugR0hdHEJ8WbC6bCjOI2r5kpOf8IEIvPRYf9_WTi7rBsht8d8Scqwqvo1w1hl-MnBT-H4ytAy7vihw4sxwBQgfJgESaAXSR6ipgq/w480-h640/62F42AD0-FA87-4F9D-932C-B66CE9177287.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I'll remember forever the day we returned to church after doing online church for several weeks. We had missed being together, and were so excited to gather again. In the van on the way to church, our kids were talking about the people they were excited to see. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WMlRcaBHTzkIisnJwC6arKpY76yB0ZvYe0oW5Zj2IHDGOTf2rtjg51GBWKAj-nGUKnXMsUCAX_7AlVD9Jir2kKl2BmVotBOl7p7fn1r-uzWP4FAuRj87Q0E0RHe8RP7MNjnLEaV1iOxz/s2048/90E4F3AE-5D48-4D1E-844E-FF07DF6B0B90.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WMlRcaBHTzkIisnJwC6arKpY76yB0ZvYe0oW5Zj2IHDGOTf2rtjg51GBWKAj-nGUKnXMsUCAX_7AlVD9Jir2kKl2BmVotBOl7p7fn1r-uzWP4FAuRj87Q0E0RHe8RP7MNjnLEaV1iOxz/w480-h640/90E4F3AE-5D48-4D1E-844E-FF07DF6B0B90.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And it occurred to me, this community we have is special. It's unique, and not everyone has this. It's been built over time, and it continues to grow even in the year 2020. </div><div><br /></div><div>May we never take this community for granted. When Sunday mornings bring their flurry of activity and van loading and arriving on time thoughts - may we always remember what we have is special. What we're doing is important. What we're doing is eternity.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPD_aL1zjfbe4sb6Mo-kEcoEb1as9OQjUnh81rlGNaQAN1YTUCfRTZrzxHYNofmdUSmSPoQwh2f_sHLiQn_lykc2dnyWHqwTOlGyVnqlsHs1Rqd7UIPY3FwuxwZWESAH7anBxdzqeBr_S/s2048/4467D47B-549C-4567-8F2F-34E00BBBC650.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPD_aL1zjfbe4sb6Mo-kEcoEb1as9OQjUnh81rlGNaQAN1YTUCfRTZrzxHYNofmdUSmSPoQwh2f_sHLiQn_lykc2dnyWHqwTOlGyVnqlsHs1Rqd7UIPY3FwuxwZWESAH7anBxdzqeBr_S/w640-h480/4467D47B-549C-4567-8F2F-34E00BBBC650.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>And our kids, these tiny humans, they need community too. It's taken some creativity and ingenuity to make this happen - but they payoff has been huge.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_neBU1KKf5Yj2433GR6zLucNlPcWrxj_ILsqwH1yutv4OkQRbVFGePbfAT9BXMcB7YN_ULp3RhUXgh5gv6ZMhbFnXT2YtCmjxkI7trvPDijwZKIhWiT2f_V_dUI7hu8v7ySHtv9nLCgDJ/s2048/DF2C94C6-66D7-49DE-BDB3-40938B0579BE.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_neBU1KKf5Yj2433GR6zLucNlPcWrxj_ILsqwH1yutv4OkQRbVFGePbfAT9BXMcB7YN_ULp3RhUXgh5gv6ZMhbFnXT2YtCmjxkI7trvPDijwZKIhWiT2f_V_dUI7hu8v7ySHtv9nLCgDJ/w640-h480/DF2C94C6-66D7-49DE-BDB3-40938B0579BE.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Tiny humans, growing in confidence, loving other tiny humans, making mistakes and learning from them...why would we choose anything other than this? </div><div><br /></div><div>Isolation is not an option. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfXGrlF8CgWkv4HnxBzCeAftZH_Hjwv29ysTQoRFssb3GH4w4x505HRP81Lnz2R8niMZd8oQJvE9tImeyZwRB0Ute8dtegzZXF-Fm0R_rOOrAiek6zxc1r3QxOlIr8i2P2ZBkyVsglqs3/s2048/EE182599-180D-40C4-B2D3-AF514D8907AF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfXGrlF8CgWkv4HnxBzCeAftZH_Hjwv29ysTQoRFssb3GH4w4x505HRP81Lnz2R8niMZd8oQJvE9tImeyZwRB0Ute8dtegzZXF-Fm0R_rOOrAiek6zxc1r3QxOlIr8i2P2ZBkyVsglqs3/w640-h480/EE182599-180D-40C4-B2D3-AF514D8907AF.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Okay, it is. But why would we choose that over this?</div><div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">THE YEAR OF TOGETHER.</p><p>We're all in this together. Uh-huh. Yep. We know. We've all heard it. Some are tired of hearing it. </p><p>Sometimes the people I'm togethering are hard to together. But together, we will. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrrBJvZ6N57cVZOCHEO8KqUHMXrgNgS0OSlyPKEdx1C1JF3iynPthpzA0SpDpkY7-gkrS8hYaEP7ULBM3PSwDPYaC8sbqrl5cOibd-X45KK6IXc1hSufNDW47pFTkoaM7dz-ESqSsgQPP/s2048/2E700DE7-6006-4F43-AD63-FB95C99EDA8D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrrBJvZ6N57cVZOCHEO8KqUHMXrgNgS0OSlyPKEdx1C1JF3iynPthpzA0SpDpkY7-gkrS8hYaEP7ULBM3PSwDPYaC8sbqrl5cOibd-X45KK6IXc1hSufNDW47pFTkoaM7dz-ESqSsgQPP/w640-h480/2E700DE7-6006-4F43-AD63-FB95C99EDA8D.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Because let's just be real - I can be hard to together, too. And when togethering feels hard, usually I'm the problem. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifLe1oC9Y96zPzn1Yjqn6USNCg3WPyyEhYZjNKrAmTy0lH-1x5iEloc2gxrlG7eJit1GeeRBoFD4Om-MCOiRt3SI_jp0iJCW4ctZmqnsfpM1XXzOFKmlSxZHl5nFVmWj0pGpqkgJhQVtA3/s2048/2E3434D0-D7DB-4B0B-ABEC-F93F2DAE8733.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifLe1oC9Y96zPzn1Yjqn6USNCg3WPyyEhYZjNKrAmTy0lH-1x5iEloc2gxrlG7eJit1GeeRBoFD4Om-MCOiRt3SI_jp0iJCW4ctZmqnsfpM1XXzOFKmlSxZHl5nFVmWj0pGpqkgJhQVtA3/w480-h640/2E3434D0-D7DB-4B0B-ABEC-F93F2DAE8733.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A friend of mine has said 2020 was a 'back-to-basics' year. Hallelujah - I couldn't agree more.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Togetherness is hard. Maybe this is why our culture has shifted away from that. But please, let's do more of this.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygGVTT-1s1Oto87TjHNoUJTH69UQPHMd-9ovuJDt6Qzb5Gh9jJZs3ADtGMR20Y6_w-E_C30Vh7guYKDwPB5q1HH8nrlRtznV2XFleqkKEVi-oTQMIa5YiM3MqnQmFCcF8E0SbIZoCO8wM/s2048/7D36484D-DC1F-4260-9C9B-2DEF159A5684.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygGVTT-1s1Oto87TjHNoUJTH69UQPHMd-9ovuJDt6Qzb5Gh9jJZs3ADtGMR20Y6_w-E_C30Vh7guYKDwPB5q1HH8nrlRtznV2XFleqkKEVi-oTQMIa5YiM3MqnQmFCcF8E0SbIZoCO8wM/w480-h640/7D36484D-DC1F-4260-9C9B-2DEF159A5684.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>More cozying down and snuggling in. More talking face to face and eye to eye. More games and art. More reading together <i>(so thankful for our library system!)</i>, More creating Death Stars out of cardboard boxes <i>(Star Wars reference, for the newbies!)</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yt6XYaxV3NZ3EDGJuHvYE_aT4Zfmo65p-iO84KYNBFqriSUk7QbDDhsHHZs4Wn1Vjj4kCqt11qw4MzeqcPOpQtupPbB3zmC-MJzPwIWRsqiCn2RypT1pT9Jbg6r7t5BoKhwmKRuZnHzn/s4032/13EDC152-DCB6-42C2-A13E-7C0F6819F843.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yt6XYaxV3NZ3EDGJuHvYE_aT4Zfmo65p-iO84KYNBFqriSUk7QbDDhsHHZs4Wn1Vjj4kCqt11qw4MzeqcPOpQtupPbB3zmC-MJzPwIWRsqiCn2RypT1pT9Jbg6r7t5BoKhwmKRuZnHzn/w640-h480/13EDC152-DCB6-42C2-A13E-7C0F6819F843.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">More conversations about why unicorns have horns, how our cute friend Henry has hair that flies up when he runs, why brothers and sisters can't get married 'because I wanted to marry Silas', and questions like 'will grandma forget about us if we can't hug her'? and 'does Carter remember Ukraine?' and everything in between. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFSSAioRCKsNKmf8eK0KAS2c_DGRyXD9b7z9LcwLGKjU6hMmH80E7AYNFWXiS9vJXhV2j_Z_6IRXIXRGXdXukBUE1EQ23RHnW4aO_QMQwL8VKS3BXQXSUJsp1X-jFEKzNgslBJC5JEJtE8/s2048/523DD3A0-F28F-4F46-8752-BE9BB6293346.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFSSAioRCKsNKmf8eK0KAS2c_DGRyXD9b7z9LcwLGKjU6hMmH80E7AYNFWXiS9vJXhV2j_Z_6IRXIXRGXdXukBUE1EQ23RHnW4aO_QMQwL8VKS3BXQXSUJsp1X-jFEKzNgslBJC5JEJtE8/w480-h640/523DD3A0-F28F-4F46-8752-BE9BB6293346.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Togetherness has brought so many feels. It's not all sweet and precious and dear. </div><div><br /></div><div>Five unique humans under one roof, all growing and learning, all flawed and complex. Throw in some extra tension from the world around us and suddenly togethering doesn't seem so fun. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcSMHCoSHfJsj8KDq1RapU2DnWvnE4CjLJbU_VM7U81zFt5cQbtOiDe258G75Ahvtqk6-Zqb-fjb9HSOVWb48C7SRfRgBdxO94pUr_mn8Prll41_vfIBx02Jkbjzk7sEEqdO8aiz0kGAwI/s2048/14596C41-3C45-42A4-94E3-01C2856256FA.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcSMHCoSHfJsj8KDq1RapU2DnWvnE4CjLJbU_VM7U81zFt5cQbtOiDe258G75Ahvtqk6-Zqb-fjb9HSOVWb48C7SRfRgBdxO94pUr_mn8Prll41_vfIBx02Jkbjzk7sEEqdO8aiz0kGAwI/w480-h640/14596C41-3C45-42A4-94E3-01C2856256FA.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>This year I've realized my kids aren't robots. I can treat them like robots and expect to input data, and get immediate results every time. But if that's my approach, I'll spend a lot of my life being disappointed. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqjD4afVltKV3hCgaPfaqA8O52IvG5hgp_NCJsyr5Im2ChADJck0ABVbnYVcbfDhm8JIA_dw6kbavS3CCrE7Zzbxh7yYkyiGJn5y6O6OIbqyZcJeAynjvPu5a9qfIp80GBdGtWgMt9wNYI/s2048/A4315F3D-20B7-455D-A0A8-09CEDCD181EF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqjD4afVltKV3hCgaPfaqA8O52IvG5hgp_NCJsyr5Im2ChADJck0ABVbnYVcbfDhm8JIA_dw6kbavS3CCrE7Zzbxh7yYkyiGJn5y6O6OIbqyZcJeAynjvPu5a9qfIp80GBdGtWgMt9wNYI/w640-h480/A4315F3D-20B7-455D-A0A8-09CEDCD181EF.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>These kids are humans - humans who are growing and learning, and grabbing at the experiences around them, gathering them up to create something all their own. As their mom, I get to support them in that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Or I could be frustrated when they don't behave how I want them to. Or annoyed when they don't meet my expectations. Or mad when the data I input doesn't come out of them like it was supposed to.</div><div><br /></div><div>Beep-bop-doot-meep. Boop-dop. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>(Translation: that would really suck)</i></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVRWGCgneAhP9tH5pDGV5nawjqeyFYycizW3BdzX6AScVmgY9ho3EfdbInZ3lCY9I_slDFIoKFL_PyH3FGr4mamu9EvHAFMM1eFoilCM4JchouUBuHIQJYNgNuXw82YnS3Mf6mzQ7T6DZ/s2048/AA50B0EA-6369-40CD-BB26-080D6C940D12.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1537" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVRWGCgneAhP9tH5pDGV5nawjqeyFYycizW3BdzX6AScVmgY9ho3EfdbInZ3lCY9I_slDFIoKFL_PyH3FGr4mamu9EvHAFMM1eFoilCM4JchouUBuHIQJYNgNuXw82YnS3Mf6mzQ7T6DZ/w480-h640/AA50B0EA-6369-40CD-BB26-080D6C940D12.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>There's a better way. Why would I choose that over this?</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGKtdC3Ta7iYp9pKGNxRAY6AUS7SGqOFR2JobWdBe2QZ5QK_ht_ooyYTS_K28pCcS1qO9MVICvPKQtdsJeL9AXpqrMqjcizULsRT26EEf14lradtF410GwCmI6g0pNUkBxtoLdZC7Y69W/s2048/C2740C4E-0C9C-4C67-8BE8-2A511468B186.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1534" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGKtdC3Ta7iYp9pKGNxRAY6AUS7SGqOFR2JobWdBe2QZ5QK_ht_ooyYTS_K28pCcS1qO9MVICvPKQtdsJeL9AXpqrMqjcizULsRT26EEf14lradtF410GwCmI6g0pNUkBxtoLdZC7Y69W/w640-h480/C2740C4E-0C9C-4C67-8BE8-2A511468B186.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Look at how good this is. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8EF0-t-JdbBNRum5_Wbo852Hl1c3CKCCOg_TtgrhuCeFw5C2MVCrmVA3eNLbreIGG7-pFgN5QUjxW5f9-3QxbSHOAHNFBrXeSvteDliBGhkdi_VAC8TPLUAqAm6KXy8gumCXd-H_0fwM/s2048/FB9A317C-9AC0-4E8E-A8E8-E184EB50D348.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8EF0-t-JdbBNRum5_Wbo852Hl1c3CKCCOg_TtgrhuCeFw5C2MVCrmVA3eNLbreIGG7-pFgN5QUjxW5f9-3QxbSHOAHNFBrXeSvteDliBGhkdi_VAC8TPLUAqAm6KXy8gumCXd-H_0fwM/w640-h480/FB9A317C-9AC0-4E8E-A8E8-E184EB50D348.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Like 2020, this seems to be the post that just never ends. If you're still with me, thanks for reading along. </div><div><br /></div><div><div>Other labels that I could have used for 2020: </div><div>The Year of Neighborhood Walks</div><div>The Year Carter Called 911 But I Didn't Know It So An Officer Came To Our House</div><div>The Year of Rehearsing My Triggers</div><div>The Year of Hamilton </div><div>The Year of Making Neighborhood Kid-Friends and Running All Over The 'Hood With The Crew</div><div><br /></div></div><div>For all those reasons and more, it really was the year of our lives. I never said it was easy, or comfortable. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-rRuu0rCT81-whhzY1GPxYOmhX898y7D7OisCTQpEzyAfOkzem_iA3p9URoFGSzS0FcH_wYqV32CWXSYhYKgTCbh_7LK9oCqK45QW_zDBHXW7vDzx4BfsBANYhu92wjza6jTGohbmVLov/s4032/5E349610-DDC5-4F9D-A8A8-277E0EF3F8F5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-rRuu0rCT81-whhzY1GPxYOmhX898y7D7OisCTQpEzyAfOkzem_iA3p9URoFGSzS0FcH_wYqV32CWXSYhYKgTCbh_7LK9oCqK45QW_zDBHXW7vDzx4BfsBANYhu92wjza6jTGohbmVLov/w480-h640/5E349610-DDC5-4F9D-A8A8-277E0EF3F8F5.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>But friends, we aren't dead yet. There is good ahead, and there is still time to love our humans - grow our faith - build on the past - repair our wounds.</div><div><br /></div><div>We aren't dead yet, and there is more. </div><div><br /></div><div>Reach out and grab it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /></div><div><p></p>CLICK To Read Previous Year-End Posts;</div><div><a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2020/03/top-adventures-of-2019.html" target="_blank">Year 2019</a></div><div><a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2019/01/top-10-of-2018.html" target="_blank">Year 2018</a></div><div><a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/02/top-10-of-2017.html" target="_blank">Year 2017</a></div><div><a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2017/01/top-10-ish-photos-of-2016.html" target="_blank">Year 2016</a></div><div><a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2016/01/top-15-of-2015-aka-my-fave-post-of.html" target="_blank">Year 2015</a></div><div><a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2014/12/top-14-of-2014.html" target="_blank">Year 2014</a></div><div><a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2013/12/top-13-of-2013.html" target="_blank">Year 2013</a></div><div><a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2013/01/top-12-from-2012.html" target="_blank">Year 2012</a></div><div><br /></div>Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-78287541966734870322020-03-10T15:00:00.002-05:002020-03-10T15:00:10.277-05:00Top Adventures of 2019!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
If you want to know the top moments of our 2019, you're in the right place. </div>
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I'm late in posting because I've come back here so many times in an attempt to wrap up our year in a nice little package. And then I remembered that nice packages are overrated. We all know it's what inside the package that counts. So here's the package - it's like the wonky gift that doesn't fit in a bag and so I just roll it up in newspaper and call it done.</div>
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2019 was a big year.</div>
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Looking back at these photos from 2019, I feel like I'm looking at memories that happened 3 years ago. It's still a whirlwind, and I feel like I'm still recovering from some of it. </div>
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But here it is, my top adventures of 2019.</div>
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<b>1. TRYING NEW THINGS!</b></div>
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So much of our year was trying new things. This guy tried many new things - most of them might not seem scary to the average person. But this thing - a hammock - floating above the ground, making no logical sense to his brain, with no promises of safety - and he loved it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHFL7sot_tilcsqTzDOf97DgOsp0MHqiP_Vt2IN2SJwJe2gRfVoVUVaqfqi6eeY-JKMrIWISGhExrvyZAyAZ8weyDYp8Zo6RNgU6wExRNzcrJd55-5sLDzLRdJm6fIJrGW1J6Lqj8Lc95/s1600/IMG_0059+2.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHFL7sot_tilcsqTzDOf97DgOsp0MHqiP_Vt2IN2SJwJe2gRfVoVUVaqfqi6eeY-JKMrIWISGhExrvyZAyAZ8weyDYp8Zo6RNgU6wExRNzcrJd55-5sLDzLRdJm6fIJrGW1J6Lqj8Lc95/s640/IMG_0059+2.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div>
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What's that thing we used to say? Oh that's right, Carter CAN. Lest we forget. Let's say it again, all together now: Carter CAN.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzdGcPMoaK4XLj0rkzRSvPgMsTNpc0O3jyFZBWfedjwc2iVRuvsLRWT6Yg3a0kEGDt8Uk7TG61HARCDokCvUDjeRPEPXqNOV5bfx56qpfmYrobJ-qwKNkParpEUeZwS-l1K7MkfpKMZyL/s1600/IMG_6020.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzdGcPMoaK4XLj0rkzRSvPgMsTNpc0O3jyFZBWfedjwc2iVRuvsLRWT6Yg3a0kEGDt8Uk7TG61HARCDokCvUDjeRPEPXqNOV5bfx56qpfmYrobJ-qwKNkParpEUeZwS-l1K7MkfpKMZyL/s640/IMG_6020.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div>
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Other new things include the baby of the family moving to his big-boy bed. Remember that post I did about saying goodbye to the family crib? (Read it <a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2019/05/bye-crib.html" target="_blank">HERE)</a><br />
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Well, the crib is being used by someone very special to us - sweet baby Nora Lane. My niece, their cousin, my brother's baby girl.<br />
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Other new things: Macy diving in to writing and drawing and reading, Silas figuring out his big-guy bike, Carter embracing things like drawing, building legos, and playing pretend with his siblings, Macy trading her nap time for quiet book time in her room, Silas staying in his bed until it's time to get up <i>(instead of bursting into his day at 4am!)</i> and so much more.</div>
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<b>2. TOGETHERING!</b><br />
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This year might have solidified the bond the five of us have. We spent a lot of time together - making decisions together, talking about our decisions together, actually doing our decisions together...and feeling it all - together.<br />
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Our kids love each other. They like playing together, and miss each other when they're apart.<br />
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They root for and cheer each other on. When one is sad or struggling, they huddle up and try to figure out how to help.<br />
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They also argue and grab toys and take jabs. Don't think it's all rainbows and unicorns over here <i>(although, we currently have a crap-ton of unicorns in our home...if you have a daughter between the ages of 2 and 10, you likely understand).</i><br />
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It's becoming obvious to Macy that Carter struggles with things like language and showing he understands. She asks questions, and then tries new things with him. "Mom, maybe Carter will like it if I do it this way!" or "Carter, what do you need?". She's learning him, and then teaching us what to do.<br />
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Sometimes togethering looks like late nights at the beach with a grill and burgers! Those moments are so sweet and will be ingrained in our kids memories forever.<br />
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Other times, togethering looks like sitting by the fireplace with a book and a cookie.<br />
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Together, we can do just about anything.<br />
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<b>3. CREATING!</b><br />
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I've been learning to give up control so there's room for creativity. This sounds nice and freeing, but it's been hard for me! I don't like clutter or messes or projects that don't go as planned.<br />
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Recognizing that cleaning up is part of the process has been good - it doesn't all fall on my shoulders.<br />
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Also, the end product isn't important! Let them create! Give them the time and space to figure it out!<br />
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It might take us twice as long to make pizza if I let them help. The floor might be covered with ingredients that ought to be in the bowl. But they're learning!<br />
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So much of the time, my role in helping my kids create is to stand back and let it happen.<br />
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And guess what? Usually what comes out of it is better than anything I could have planned or controlled.<br />
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<b> 4. ADVENTURING!</b><br />
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This was a big part of our 2018, too. (Read more <a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2019/09/the-summer-of-my-life.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>)<br />
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This year I think we took it to the next level.<br />
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Perhaps our biggest adventure of the year started with this:<br />
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This is Carter on his first day of school. New school. New district. Teachers, aides, and peers he's never met. A building he's never stepped foot inside.<br />
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Carter CAN.<br />
Carter CAN.<br />
CARTER CAN!<br />
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These were times filled with big-feelings. We took lots of walks to talk things out and feel all of it. Our kids participated. They know why we switched schools, and they have feelings about it, too.<br />
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But they also know, maybe even more than we do, that Carter Can. We'd turn our world upside down for this young man who we owe so much to.<br />
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Eventually, our decision to switch schools led to moving to a different city. This was not part of the plan. This was not part of my plan.<br />
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Adventuring sounds fun and, well, adventurous. But sometimes it feels like your heart being ripped out and trampled on.<br />
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But we did it. We found a great house in a great neighborhood at a great price. It still wasn't my plan and I had so much pain to work through.<br />
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This was a beautiful, hard, incredible, intense season for me. THANK GOD I had so many people in my life walking me through it. Sometimes they held my hand as I walked along slllooooowwwwllly, sometimes they grabbed my face in their hands and spoke hard things to me. All of it was love. But what I wanted was hope. I wanted to know that everything was going to be okay.<br />
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The hope came as an effect of doing the hard things.<br />
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Thanks, countless people. You who sat in my living room and asked me questions. You who took long walks with me as I processed it all out. You who laid in bed with me at night and let my cry and curse and cry. You who have helped me countless times over the past 12 months to say "I forgive them. I forgive them. I forgive them."<br />
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I forgive them. And I have so much hope.<br />
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<b>5. FIGURING IT OUT!</b><br />
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Without vacations, without weekend getaways, without date nights <i>(seriously, I think we've had one date in the past eight months)</i> - we've intentionally carved out time from our schedules to figure life out. I used to think we needed special stickers on the calendar for those things.<br />
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Turns out, we don't!<br />
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We've processed our day, set up the week ahead, talked through hard feelings, and so much more - in the early hours of day and late at night after the kiddos head to bed.<br />
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A big part of this season has been using the brains God gave us to think about what's best for our family, instead of just going with the status quo.<br />
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Who told us we have to do things this way or that way?<br />
What do WE want for our kids?<br />
How do we get there?<br />
Let's do THAT.<br />
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We are an amazing team. We're learning how to be an even better team. After almost 14 years of marriage <i>(yes, that's right - I counted several times to be sure) </i>we still don't have it all figured out.<br />
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We still get to learn and grow together! There's no end in sight, and that's so satisfying. Being married will never be boring. There are always exciting things ahead.<br />
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<b>6. LOVING UNIQUELY!</b><br />
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Just like last year, we're learning who are kids are and how to love them best.<br />
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As they grow and their struggles become greater, we have more opportunity to understand them. We've been given more opportunities to love them based on who they are and what they need.<br />
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One of them thinks only of himself and what he needs in a moment. What a joy to adjust to him and help him move forward!<br />
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One of them is always looking for a need to fill, and will create one if necessary. What a gift to offer examples of slowing down to make more with what I'm given, instead of creating things on my own!<br />
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One of them will do whatever it takes to move people around! What a treat to help him reach his goals and execute his plans!<br />
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Parenting. It's not for the weak or faint of heart. It's dirty work and most days I go to bed feeling like I'm covered in dirt from head to toe.<br />
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But then, I see little sprouts begin to come up here, and little leaves unfurling there, and suddenly the hours spent in the dirt make so much sense.<br />
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Parenting is a long-game. And we're all-in.<br />
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Together.<br />
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That's our 2019. Maybe it was the year of leveling up. Taking what we learned last year, and going a step farther. Each level gets harder, and that goes against what I always thought life would be. Doesn't it get easier and easier until I retire, and then I can have a life of relaxation and comfort?<br />
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Ugh. That sounds awful.<br />
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Bring it on. Let's keep leveling up.<br />
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Together!<br />
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If you want to check out our past year-end posts, you can find them here:<br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2019/01/top-10-of-2018.html" target="_blank">2018</a><br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/02/top-10-of-2017.html" target="_blank">2017</a><br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2017/01/top-10-ish-photos-of-2016.html" target="_blank">2016</a><br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2016/01/top-15-of-2015-aka-my-fave-post-of.html" target="_blank">2015</a><br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2014/12/top-14-of-2014.html" target="_blank">2014</a><br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2013/12/top-13-of-2013.html" target="_blank">2013</a><br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2013/01/top-12-from-2012.html" target="_blank">2012</a><br />
<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-51610575186854935452019-09-03T10:25:00.000-05:002019-09-03T10:25:28.687-05:00The Summer of My Life.Going in to this summer, I believed it would either be the best summer of my life, or the worst summer of my life.<br />
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I knew the outcome was up to me. It would be nobody's fault but my own if this summer sucked.<br />
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++++++++++<br />
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Our family has had some big changes since the spring.<br />
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Sometimes, people still surprise me.<br />
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People I thought would be in our life forever and ever were so quick to exit. I felt abandoned and misunderstood. I felt vilified by those I trusted.<br />
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++++++++++<br />
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For the first summer since before Macy was born, I had no respite help for Carter. Carter has grown immensely, and so have I. But I still questioned my ability to care for him all day, every day, without help. And when would I have time for Macy and Silas, who still need snuggles from their mom?<br />
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I felt like I was headed into the perfect storm. The clouds were forming. The forecast didn't look good. I wanted to hide in the basement and let the whole thing pass. I wanted to wait it out, and come out later with the sun shining and rainbow beaming.<br />
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I had a choice. It was a choice I made every day. Show up and face the storm, or hide in the basement?<br />
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Most days, I chose to show up. Some days, I watched the storm from the safety of my couch, hiding my face under the blanket as the thunder crashed. Other days, I watched the storm from my lawn chair on the patio with a vodka lemonade and laughed as the hail hit my face.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOwp9u_y_i_t5lauWGhJbM2iRf1pcEVSATu2Z4fhBOMuwdw1jpI7zKi0JVjzw-12A51x0h_7guhB-7l_eKYbYy23STepfbw7W8-vdZM4PvmkgqS6D0ZrJOWC2hL5sDLQ6_hw9S9xyyiXIW/s1600/IMG_6089+2.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOwp9u_y_i_t5lauWGhJbM2iRf1pcEVSATu2Z4fhBOMuwdw1jpI7zKi0JVjzw-12A51x0h_7guhB-7l_eKYbYy23STepfbw7W8-vdZM4PvmkgqS6D0ZrJOWC2hL5sDLQ6_hw9S9xyyiXIW/s640/IMG_6089+2.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div>
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Our summer was amazing.<br />
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So many things contributed to our success. Things like scheduling time throughout our days to sync up together, getting out of the house to adventure together, involving the kids in my to-do list, or just ripping up my to-do list and sitting on the floor with them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVrjW4NpbgazhRGRKVo-2fBRdBpG2oV9-jRivrynusm_N1ayb2oit3bpj8QSrqnS5OIbtNjn3hVpD16-S8YlHsE6miXhV9QAzSAUpGivlXHS-EwJKvT-boVmamSEckARdlxJe8cv9mpRY1/s1600/IMG_6255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVrjW4NpbgazhRGRKVo-2fBRdBpG2oV9-jRivrynusm_N1ayb2oit3bpj8QSrqnS5OIbtNjn3hVpD16-S8YlHsE6miXhV9QAzSAUpGivlXHS-EwJKvT-boVmamSEckARdlxJe8cv9mpRY1/s640/IMG_6255.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVr9NnKgJr-wg9Gezpv6UlV7aEx1L1VvdxYA-MpzxMCwrSsrzB64GSwAsEx3oMXcxqadL_vyHr_9aVsnXa1VRVpWQgbsC_E199arwtJoKlQ25gYC2eYBIMIzK0uusFmAXZXsSJSvHE8Rqa/s1600/IMG_6272.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVr9NnKgJr-wg9Gezpv6UlV7aEx1L1VvdxYA-MpzxMCwrSsrzB64GSwAsEx3oMXcxqadL_vyHr_9aVsnXa1VRVpWQgbsC_E199arwtJoKlQ25gYC2eYBIMIzK0uusFmAXZXsSJSvHE8Rqa/s640/IMG_6272.HEIC" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have at least a dozen pictures of Macy and Carter walking away, holding hands.<br />This is Macy's jam.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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But I think the biggest reason for our success wasn't something I did within the 10 hours of our day.<br />
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It was the set-up.<br />
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Looking back, I feel like I had an amazing team of people surrounding me. People who encouraged me, taught me, confronted me, pushed me, pulled me...they all gave me the tools I needed to face the storm.<br />
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I'd write each of you a thank you note, and slip a Benjamin in each one, but we all know God is Right & Just. You'll each get what I owe you, I promise.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmEv0oW7AAfnxY43FTUiCOW2BtuJQZDERVxkjiHjKtl8LDKEUxwpRXC4pzulC4HGeW9cZkglZHfazTBdkoXsOKfVRHjdMExYxor5yV8_1t60VN35Pp-VG9mDDDjx06cn4NnujpvvWeiGO/s1600/IMG_6016+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1247" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmEv0oW7AAfnxY43FTUiCOW2BtuJQZDERVxkjiHjKtl8LDKEUxwpRXC4pzulC4HGeW9cZkglZHfazTBdkoXsOKfVRHjdMExYxor5yV8_1t60VN35Pp-VG9mDDDjx06cn4NnujpvvWeiGO/s320/IMG_6016+2.jpg" width="248" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK0I_OQ-1PUBy_vmn4FnnvKjiyw8uBYyTqK7b3jIcsSVwG6wCTZuDnG0sUd5lA_kVkVYjLzRKFZnCmRicnfwx6cCZtCG-UcEdiaccEfcj0Qmxdr1brKCHurfEKZDC7yk0UqbH3J52qiRB7/s1600/IMG_6020.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK0I_OQ-1PUBy_vmn4FnnvKjiyw8uBYyTqK7b3jIcsSVwG6wCTZuDnG0sUd5lA_kVkVYjLzRKFZnCmRicnfwx6cCZtCG-UcEdiaccEfcj0Qmxdr1brKCHurfEKZDC7yk0UqbH3J52qiRB7/s320/IMG_6020.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div>
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Without these people, I think I'd be sitting here today with tears in my coffee, filled with so much regret and pain.<br />
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But here I am, rejoicing. Excited about the future. Confident in how I've handled myself in the midst of this entire situation. Ready for the next adventure. Embracing the long storms, and enjoying the quick rainbow-glimpses.<br />
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I've had many people help me grieve the season we're ending, and prepare for the season ahead.<br />
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I'm more ready than I've ever been.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4klWf0zqH0F-6w6IPyy2lchTP9KNyeSdGC72Px1y41EE1QQdxvOjI__w3evzE3Nm7zh00pzlgYNoaZ2JoIhFxDC5feWZkPtPGGb9uErA4ieddhsOS_H7f9mmHzfCN6qoGB3y_8ptMRLOU/s1600/IMG_9485.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4klWf0zqH0F-6w6IPyy2lchTP9KNyeSdGC72Px1y41EE1QQdxvOjI__w3evzE3Nm7zh00pzlgYNoaZ2JoIhFxDC5feWZkPtPGGb9uErA4ieddhsOS_H7f9mmHzfCN6qoGB3y_8ptMRLOU/s640/IMG_9485.HEIC" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not every moment was a win! I remember this particular day to be a complete shit-show.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARdCWKagSFNTpc_lVwrLUYeX9w_QOtDXYVrCqwNkCLxRtlk34U_9lnJ8zyRmJP_D53iO5jqLMRbH1crivXC6XkYyCjgm4PdXbZvDlwbHlaHQchyrIahRllMvQTUpS2GwU9dRxQof5LNbR/s1600/IMG_6548+2.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1199" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARdCWKagSFNTpc_lVwrLUYeX9w_QOtDXYVrCqwNkCLxRtlk34U_9lnJ8zyRmJP_D53iO5jqLMRbH1crivXC6XkYyCjgm4PdXbZvDlwbHlaHQchyrIahRllMvQTUpS2GwU9dRxQof5LNbR/s640/IMG_6548+2.HEIC" width="478" /></a></div>
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Raise your vodka lemonade to the Summer of 2019.<br />
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Best summer of my life.<br />
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Slowness. Growth. Adventure.<br />
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Check, check, and check.<br />
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<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-51994119902752350402019-05-10T21:00:00.000-05:002019-05-10T21:00:09.365-05:00Bye, Crib.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I was only 27, and we didn't have much money, but on the brink of becoming a Mommy I spent a ridiculous amount of time picking out a crib. </div>
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This was before the days of Pinterest, so I had to do the hard thing and actually search websites. On my own. Without influencers telling me all my options. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizXGxqzgYEgIIBbfrup755g30c7IMHbxQP4U662Iz-G8n53JdjM897xJcALqQs8kvL5DNgaAcpZVOItYz84KlPMQe9XWlOO7-w9N1SLWQvvdRTGJcm7S40xYNIRe7QcWm-SBhKCBoy5-rB/s1600/DSC_0054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizXGxqzgYEgIIBbfrup755g30c7IMHbxQP4U662Iz-G8n53JdjM897xJcALqQs8kvL5DNgaAcpZVOItYz84KlPMQe9XWlOO7-w9N1SLWQvvdRTGJcm7S40xYNIRe7QcWm-SBhKCBoy5-rB/s640/DSC_0054.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I wanted it to be white, but not too white. I wanted it to be a warm white, but not yellowish. I wanted the rails to be simple, not ornate. I wanted it to look solid, like an heirloom piece that we could use for all of our future kids. I wanted it to be affordable, but not cheap.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaVlmtISvrwr7BfOqU6Z1pK-Edmw8I7_cbb4iCqfuegpE9vMMHf1neM2VX7HOevD_VadccFIpa8EC7V2B7Rkf29hAH85t441MeF7wuSUYOJYVccEtTmmDM6ziQ6Wuzw8U0_obWjz5jnvFT/s1600/DSC_0044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaVlmtISvrwr7BfOqU6Z1pK-Edmw8I7_cbb4iCqfuegpE9vMMHf1neM2VX7HOevD_VadccFIpa8EC7V2B7Rkf29hAH85t441MeF7wuSUYOJYVccEtTmmDM6ziQ6Wuzw8U0_obWjz5jnvFT/s640/DSC_0044.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I got what I wanted, at a good price. <br />
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Three babes of ours have used this piece of furniture. That's all it really is - just a piece of furniture. Some wood and glue and screws. That's all it is, tangibly.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYtor721alRYScjbSH1LHFpb-TdJDmJ0vL2QZx8J426efE_hD9rVT9VCLZkv8m9CJOrjpKSWdxoB5nK9FKNgMVX3uO4KX3jGNDiSyA7C3wn-QhR_m0uVnKRZJZDnvSOheuZrwratw0Q3C/s1600/DSC_0773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYtor721alRYScjbSH1LHFpb-TdJDmJ0vL2QZx8J426efE_hD9rVT9VCLZkv8m9CJOrjpKSWdxoB5nK9FKNgMVX3uO4KX3jGNDiSyA7C3wn-QhR_m0uVnKRZJZDnvSOheuZrwratw0Q3C/s640/DSC_0773.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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But this piece of furniture that was once in pristine condition now has teethmarks on the top rail.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsICzaVMyMEWlvbs1UeRZKY1RrJUxYFiL3bm6YadsODj2mq7ytU7g2rIsStMU9nfW-ZPrZQPEaE0ewQtMUazn5OrXfWtD2hnZDbPvsIRCxELuZf7Rb5m4zEyM-mzEyKtOWqg7SWkJDnR-/s1600/DSC_0303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsICzaVMyMEWlvbs1UeRZKY1RrJUxYFiL3bm6YadsODj2mq7ytU7g2rIsStMU9nfW-ZPrZQPEaE0ewQtMUazn5OrXfWtD2hnZDbPvsIRCxELuZf7Rb5m4zEyM-mzEyKtOWqg7SWkJDnR-/s640/DSC_0303.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I placed all three kids in this crib on their first days home. I stared in awe that this once empty crib now held the toddler I've only just met. I marveled at how tiny our fresh babies were as they laid on the mattress that suddenly seemed so large. I rocked all three babies and laid their limp, sleepy bodies down in this piece of furniture.<br />
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When they were sick, I'd sit outside their crib and watch them to make sure they were okay. When we had a rough day, I'd do the same. Did I damage them too much today? Look how sweet she is - how could I ever be mad at her? How could I ever get frustrated with him?<br />
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Today, we're saying goodbye to this piece of furniture. Our family has outgrown it. And as much as I want to embrace growth, this one hurts a little. This is just a piece of furniture, but it feels like so much more than that. It feels like part of us.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6b5u_DMyiBy0vc4ibEs-o70jj9JkEXbEqvcX9932Ntbc2DGJlCpljhQ02KOw-BIQTksG_R577KicQOXQ1jVnn6TKi2nvilwQ4EgsuSKzm216f2RX3qwFIq2HSl4Rm5ATlyCSKdT_1wsT/s1600/IMG_7777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6b5u_DMyiBy0vc4ibEs-o70jj9JkEXbEqvcX9932Ntbc2DGJlCpljhQ02KOw-BIQTksG_R577KicQOXQ1jVnn6TKi2nvilwQ4EgsuSKzm216f2RX3qwFIq2HSl4Rm5ATlyCSKdT_1wsT/s640/IMG_7777.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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I've been sharing with Jake this is weirdly hard for me. I feel sad about it.<br />
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Babies are easy.<br />
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Yes, they cry and fuss and haven't figured out how to sleep through the night or wipe their own body parts. Dealing with all of that can be hard.<br />
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But when I look into the eyes of my almost-four-year-old as she asks me "What does dead mean?" I'd be glad to go back to the restless nights of teething. When my big fourth grader is dealing with all kinds of emotions that he can't tell us about and I can't understand, I'd love nothing more than to wrap him in his blanket and rock him to sleep.<br />
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With babies, everything is better after a little snuggle and a little nap.<br />
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With big kids, it is not so.<br />
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When they were babies, I felt successful because they ate their squash and made it through a morning of errands without crying.<br />
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Now that they're big kids, I feel like I've failed by 9:00am every day. They are incredible kids - all three of them, but I sometimes can't keep up with them. They have so many questions - needs - demands - and am I doing this right?!<br />
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This one wants a snack, that one needs help in the bathroom, this one has playdoh smashed in his hair, that one wants to play dolls with me and she's asking so sweetly, that one just spilled his water, this sensitive one needs some snuggles because he pinched his finger, oh - and it's almost time for dinner but I forgot to start the slow cooker 5 hours ago so I guess we'll just eat a plate of fruit and cheese and call it charcuterie.<br />
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Am I doing this right?<br />
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Sometimes it feels like a big mess and a snuggle in the crib won't fix that.<br />
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That's why I'm sad. It's not the crib, it's the season.<br />
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Bye, easy babies. Bye, snuggles that fix everything. Bye, cribs that keep us safe and comfortable and contained and small.<br />
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Yesterday when I was lamenting about how sad this is, Jake jokingly asked if I wanted him to reverse his vasectomy. My response (in gif form) was "HELL TO THE NO". This is not about wanting more babies. This is about grieving a season that's quickly ending. If I grieve this well, I believe I can dive into the big kid season with even more passion.<br />
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So, the crib is gone. But the pictures and the memories and the feels are here to stay.<br />
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Sweet Gibson babies, snuggling you was one of the greatest joys of my life. And helping you grow into excellent kids will be even better, I'm sure of it.<br />
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But snuggling your mom once in a while won't hurt. Go easy on me, kids. I've got much to learn.<br />
<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-77977292634278916792019-01-19T13:45:00.000-06:002019-01-19T13:45:07.091-06:00Top 10 of 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As I sat down to gather pictures for my annual "Top 10ish" post, I intended to grab about 10 pictures. Ten-ish. I ended up with 48. This is what usually happens, but this year I just couldn't narrow it down any more. I couldn't get rid of over 30 pictures to just give you 10.</div>
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With that in mind, we're doing something a little different this year. We're changing it up. Instead of giving you the Top 10ish PHOTOS of 2018, I present to you:</div>
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The Top 10ish ADVENTURES of 2018. </div>
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">1. EXPANDING OUR COMMUNITY</span></b></div>
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This year, we did so much with others and alongside others. As our kids grow and mature, this becomes not easier, but more doable. </div>
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SO many of our favorite adventures of 2018 include people that don't live within our four walls. But EVERY adventure includes all five of us. </div>
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This has been the year of understanding our well-oiled machine is constantly changing and growing, and how do we adapt ourselves to all those moving parts? How do we set ourselves up for success, so we (and our kids) can kill it every single time?</div>
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Adventuring with friends and family might look like 5 sun kissed kids on a boat, or it might look like homemade pizza night with popcorn and a movie, or maybe a campfire out back after the kids go to bed.<br />
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Whatever it looks like, I want to continue growing together with those around me.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">2. SIBLING LOVE</span></b><br />
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Watching our three kids learn how to uniquely love each other has been the most unexpected adventure of the year. I've been taking notes and learning from the little redheaded one. The blondie has a lot to teach me, too. Oh, and the Ukrainian. His love for others usually stops me dead in my tracks.<br />
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It's not all sunshine and rainbows. We'll forever be working out the kinks as we understand more about ourselves and others. But seeing these three show love in the hardest moments makes my mommy heart so proud.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">3. SEASONS ENDING</span></b><br />
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At this very moment, our baby is just a few months shy of his second birthday. We've officially left the baby stage behind. All the baby gear has been sold or given away.<br />
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One part of babyhood that I really enjoyed was wrapping/carrying my babies. I've got one ring sling still hanging in the closet, maybe for a rainy day when I have a sick kid that needs snuggling. Soon that will be gone, too. </div>
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Oh...and that other thing. That thing that has rails and is white and has teethmarks etched on the wood...you know that thing. That thing that all three of my babies have slept in for the past 7 years. What's that called? </div>
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Oh, right. The crib. Soon, very soon, that will be gone too. I'm already preparing myself for that goodbye.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkkL_ZJ2Ej1Sv6zeewZsrmtJf26gOoyzqewOBoFYfaqut3P-D0e1xtF-3wYSG0sQ8v73oJzEvwsusxR3LhbJytcXuL5iEfDyMRlhDs4Rre0gLFPLPxbvUKHZXnkuZgED4NSeYpZ0KoSOnF/s1600/IMG_2770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkkL_ZJ2Ej1Sv6zeewZsrmtJf26gOoyzqewOBoFYfaqut3P-D0e1xtF-3wYSG0sQ8v73oJzEvwsusxR3LhbJytcXuL5iEfDyMRlhDs4Rre0gLFPLPxbvUKHZXnkuZgED4NSeYpZ0KoSOnF/s640/IMG_2770.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I might sound sad, and maybe I am a little bit. I'm a sentimental person. But really, I'm happy to be done with the 'having babies' stage and I'm really excited to be in the 'raising kids' stage. </div>
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There are so many good things ahead. </div>
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">4. NEW THINGS</span></b><br />
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See? There are good things ahead. I'm seeing them already. This little lady was doodling away in her notebook as I prepped dinner one day. "Mom! COME HERE!!! I think I just drawed my name!!".<br />
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Sure enough.<br />
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It's a funny thing, having an oldest child with special needs. Everything we've ever tried to teach Carter (consciously) has been taught, taught, tested, planned, taught, drilled, taught, tested, re-planned, drilled, drilled, and drilled some more. Then, maybe - just maybe, he's been able to develop that specific skill. But this is a whole new world - because Macy just grabs on to new things and absorbs ideas and concepts and skills so quickly.<br />
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But then I stumble upon this picture from the spring and it reminds me of that one time, with very little prep or planning, we went on our first family bike ride. We fully expected Carter to HATE every second.<br />
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Looks like he enjoyed himself! What do we know?!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfrFtDuRtF3W66Yf9ib-_D2Jo_QfmaoEMRhXgEl8vvSUbZqXFixKD2nu42ZyOfeexGrixm9LUdRJKOM-5yXxEn0zsv6A-OckFwQXQPj4WTYiA0imNbGwnN3ZgQWMHvWpYf_2HITq2DjZo/s1600/IMG_9697+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1199" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfrFtDuRtF3W66Yf9ib-_D2Jo_QfmaoEMRhXgEl8vvSUbZqXFixKD2nu42ZyOfeexGrixm9LUdRJKOM-5yXxEn0zsv6A-OckFwQXQPj4WTYiA0imNbGwnN3ZgQWMHvWpYf_2HITq2DjZo/s640/IMG_9697+2.JPG" width="478" /></a></div>
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Yes, even Carter can learn new things and try something different without falling apart.<br />
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(Read more about our first bike ride <a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/04/we-survived-spring-break-2018.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>)<br />
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Macy is also willing to try new things with very little hesitation, as we learned at the Milwaukee Zoo this year. She made a new friend (Coach, the pony) and surprised us all as she saddled up with very little fear in her eyes.<br />
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Confident, bold kids - they just go all in.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">5. DISCOVERING NEW, ENJOYING OLD</span></b><br />
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Twenty-eighteen may only have 4 months of warmth, but it was definitely the year of the beach. All three kids love the sand in their toes and the sun on their backs. We've got our old favorite beaches that we went back to week after week, but we also had fun trying new places.<br />
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I'd say we mastered our process for loading up the van (toys! towels! dry clothes/diaper!) and prepping dinner (burgers! chicken! jalapeño poppers! popsicles! chips & salsa or guac! plenty of drinks and napkins!) and sending out an all-call to whoever was available to join us. We'd beach it up until bedtime, and pull into the driveway just as eyes were getting heavy.<br />
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Summer perfection.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">6. CARTER'S 2018 ADVENTURES</span></b><br />
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Life with Carter is one giant adventure that begins the moment he opens his eyes each morning until the moment he drifts off to sleep. Carter does not have an off button - he is always on, every second of the day. I'm learning that this is good for me - because I have no room to drift. I need to be on top of my game every moment.<br />
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I've heard special needs moms say that they are always on 'high alert', and that special needs moms have the same amount of stress as those in active combat.<br />
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Sometimes it feels that way, but I'm learning it shouldn't. It doesn't have to. When I'm my best, Carter follows suit. I don't need to be on high alert when I'm engaged and feeling him.<br />
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The theme of Carter's year was probably growth. Physically, he is growing stronger and taller. </div>
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But he's also grown in his ability to verbalize his thoughts and feelings, like when he tells us "Scares me". Or share things like "I want Bananas AND strawberries snack" instead of just saying "want bananas". </div>
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We've seen tons of growth in his independence - this guy can get his own milk (grab cup from cupboard, take off top, get milk, unscrew cap, pour into cup, wipe up the overflow, put away milk...look at all those steps!), he can be mostly independent in the bathroom (mom still needs to pop in to be sure he's on task!), he can help with household chores (and actually be helpful), when we say "go get dressed" he can go to his closet and grab clothes (mickey mouse jammie pants are a fave!) and put them on. </div>
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Even now as I sit and write this out, I'm realizing this guy can do so much more than he could last year. </div>
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">7. MACY'S 2018 ADVENTURES</span></b><br />
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Sister extraordinaire, Macy loves to serve. It seems like she's constantly thinking of new ways to serve, and if there's not a need right now, she will create one. This is something we're working on :)<br />
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For me, 2018 was the year of allowing Macy to embrace her quirks. She's got a few of them and I don't ever want to squelch them or make her feel like the things she likes are wrong or weird.<br />
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Be weird, little one. Just go all in.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">7. SILAS'S 2018 ADVENTURES</span></b><br />
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Little man used 2018 to ditch baby life and he dove in head first to big boy life. It looks good on him, I think. Blonde hair, blue eyes, face just like his daddy.<br />
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And although he LOOKS like his daddy, his favorite person is mommy. Sometimes I feel over-touched by 9am and I wonder why the baby of the family is so dang mom-crazy. If I'm in the room, he's next to me. If I'm making dinner, he's either on the counter, in a chair, or on my hip. And if he's not helping me make dinner, he's standing on the floor crying.<br />
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We've realized that he wants to be where the music is, and the music usually follows me. He's great at bringing the noise - it's up to us to adjust and turn that noise into music.<br />
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I'm learning :)<br />
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I think if Silas could share his biggest adventures from 2018, they'd be:<br />
1) Using a kitchen appliance (food processor, juicer, and blender are all great options).<br />
2) Eating a snack (basically anything that anyone else has will do).<br />
3) Grabbing things I shouldn't have (someones phone, remote control, electric meat thermometer) and waiting for mom to see me, and then running away as fast as I can as soon as she notices.<br />
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Tender little guy, with so many big feels. Someday he'll change the world.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">8. EATING FOR NOURISHMENT</span></b><br />
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What an adventure this has been. Food was my number one source of comfort for as long as I can remember. We've all shifted our thinking and we now see food as nourishment. What I eat should help my body, NOT hurt my body.<br />
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Guess what? It still tastes amazing. But it definitely takes more planning and prep work on my part. I spend a lot of time in the kitchen, and a lot of time planning how I'll spend my time in the kitchen.<br />
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This lifestyle change was not an easy one, and it's changed and evolved over time. But I've discovered that feeding my family nutritious food is a passion of mine and I've enjoyed this journey so much.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">9. ENJOYING DISCOMFORT</span></b><br />
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While this has been an overarching theme for 2018, I'd say this one event is a great visual of what it looks like to enjoy discomfort. In the fall, Jake completed his first 5k. He finished 5th in his age group, and beat his personal best by over 2 minutes.<br />
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A large group of family and friends came to cheer him on and show their support, and we all enjoyed this super fun, super exciting day.<br />
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But what nobody else saw was the sacrifice of time and energy to get to this point.<br />
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Jake spent almost every-other night running for months. In the cold, he'd run. In the rain, he'd run. In the heat, he'd run. In the humidity, he'd run. I don't think he particularly enjoyed the act of running. He'd be sore and winded and dripping with sweat each time he'd walk in the door. It definitely didn't look like he was having fun.<br />
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Oh, and me! I sacrificed too! Because often when he was out running, I was home prepping dinner or giving baths or putting kids in bed.<br />
<br />
He didn't get here by accident. But I believe crossing the finish line with his family and friends screaming for him might have made it all worth it. And then ringing the personal record bell, well, I think that put him over the top.<br />
<br />
Jake started running as a way to connect with Carter, because Carter loves to run.<br />
<br />
Below might be the best photo of 2018.<br />
<br />
On the left - Jake and I in Ukraine, fall of 2011. Jake was the heaviest he'd ever been (as best we can remember).<br />
<br />
And on the right - Jake and Carter ringing the personal record bell, over 150 pounds lighter.<br />
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This didn't happen on accident. Such an uncomfortable year.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">9. LET LOVE GROW</span></b><br />
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I'm not going to say much about this adventure, because I've said so many words about it already. This is an adventure I never saw coming, but I can't imagine not experiencing.<br />
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To read this four-part series, start <a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/10/part-1-gift-of-adoption.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">10. GROW-AWAYS</span></b><br />
<br />
This year, Jake and I finally understood the value of going away together without our three little treasures. But we don't want to just go away, we want to grow-away. We're not interested in just vegging out or checking out. We want to invest in each other and in our marriage.<br />
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Sometimes grow-aways are uncomfortable. Actually, the BEST grow-aways are uncomfortable.<br />
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Sometimes we go away for a whole weekend! Other times it's just a dinner date. This year we've got a week-long grow-away planned! But this is important for us AND our kids.<br />
<br />
((So there are 11 adventures. Remember, I did say ten-ISH.))<br />
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Last but not least....<br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">11. HERE'S TO THE HELPERS</span></b><br />
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In order for us to get out of the house without kids, someone needs to be here watching our kids! We've got so many people who love us in this way. Many people ask us if we realize how lucky we are.<br />
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YES! Yes we do.<br />
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And it's not just family who watch our kids so we can go on dates or weekends away. It's so much more. These people love our kids so well, they use their vacation days to spend extra time with them. They understand what our kids like and join them in it.<br />
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They get on the floor and play the same game over and over again, even though their knees creak and they question whether they'll be able to get back up. They unload dishwashers, put away laundry, bring over hot meals, and send fun mail to the kids. <br />
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All the stuff they do for us is nice. SO nice. But the best part about all of this is our kids are surrounded by so much love. Our kids are so loved by so many people, and I believe they feel it.<br />
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These kids have grandparents coming out of their ears, and I can't think of a better way to spend a childhood.<br />
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<br />
That was our year, in a (large and wordy) nutshell.<br />
<br />
Twenty-eighteen. The year of discomfort, growth, and community. The year of doing things that I didn't really feeeeeel like doing, but then looking back and thinking "I'm SO GLAD I did that!!".<br />
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Here's to 2019 - I see so many good things ahead. I'm going all in.<br />
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<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-64917086344827006222018-11-01T15:00:00.000-05:002018-11-01T15:00:01.777-05:00PART 4: Let Love Grow*This is PART 4 in a four-part series. To read PARTS 1, 2 or 3, click below.*<br />
<br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/10/part-1-gift-of-adoption.html" target="_blank">PART 1: The Gift of Adoption</a><br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/10/part-2-jump-toward-hope.html" target="_blank">PART 2: Jump Towards Hope</a><br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/10/part-3-slow-crap-down.html" target="_blank">PART 3: Slow The Crap Down</a><br />
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++++++++<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>LET LOVE GROW</b><br />
<b><br /></b>This is the part of the story where I look back and say THANK GOD I decided to jump. Thank God I didn't dig my heels in for more than 5 minutes. Thank God I have people in my life who helped me slow down.<br />
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And then I decided to dig my heels in.<br />
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We all messaged back and forth over the next month or so. This was safe and easy and comfortable. And, I did the hard thing! So, yay for me! Now I can just sit here and be comfortable.<br />
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In a message dated SOMETIME IN MAY, my pesky baby brother said "I'm just going to say what we're all thinking. When can we meet up?". I can't actually find this message, but I'm convinced it exists.<br />
<br />
Well, crap. I'm faced with another choice - sit or jump.<br />
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Jake could tell that I was feeling stuck. I remember him asking me what I envisioned for our reunion. Because I couldn't say "I want it exactly like all the fairytale stories on that 'My Adoption Story' show!!" I just told him I wanted nice weather so we could sit outside.<br />
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Uhh, okay...?!<br />
<br />
I just happened to have another coffee date with Betty, in which she asked me "What are you waiting for...?" with a blank look on her face.<br />
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Well, ideally I'd be waiting for my life to be exactly as I want it so I can just add this new birth family in without hiccup or flaw. So.....<br />
<br />
....yeah, that's not going to work.<br />
<br />
Let's jump.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
Later that week I messaged my brother and birth mom. It was the end of May, and I gave them all the Saturday's we were available throughout the whole summer. I thought they'd definitely pick a weekend near the end of summer. Moments later I got a message from Matthew.<br />
<br />
"How about this Saturday?!"<br />
<br />
Well, crap. That's not much time to get my whole life together.<br />
<br />
"The weather is supposed to be nice, though!" said Jake. Hardy-har-har.<br />
<br />
Whatever. This is me. This is us. This is our life. I can't think of any aspect of our life that fits into a neat little mold. The concept of 'family' is no exception.<br />
<br />
"Okay, I've got a sitter for the kids. I'll see you Saturday."<br />
<br />
What in the name of all that's good is going on.<br />
<br />
The next several days, I had many opportunities to practice slowing down and being in the moment. I remember thinking that what I was about to do was not just for me, but also for my kids. It's their story, too. As Saturday got closer, my nervousness faded into excitement.<br />
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Being 'excited' doesn't come naturally for me. But I believe Jake helped me prepare for this day and truly enjoy the moment. This day is about me. I can live this day and be completely selfish.<br />
<br />
I remember thinking that not everyone will understand what's going to happen on Saturday. Maybe there are people who won't like it. There may even be people who feel bad about Saturday. And that's okay. I can't control how people feel. I don't want to even <i>attempt</i> to control how people feel. I want this chapter of my book to be about giving up control, which means others might feel uncomfortable.<br />
<br />
Because I care deeply, I wrote a letter to my mom, explaining that I was incredibly grateful for her and all the ways she loved me. I wanted to do everything in my power to be clear: my birth family will never replace her. I'm so thankful that she understands this, and has supported me on this journey.<br />
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Saturday came, and we shipped the kids off to different sitters, and then waited. The tension built and we talked about all the ways this reunion could turn out. Remember when I said that this AncestryDNA kit might change the rest of the book? This is the day that I realized my that the plot of my life had taken a course much different than I expected. The book would end differently than I thought it would.<br />
<br />
And I had never been more okay with that in my life.<br />
<br />
At this point, we're basically strangers. We have this connection with each other that nobody else has, but we know almost nothing about each other. So I expected awkward. I expected lulls in the conversation. I expected lots of questions being asked and answered.<br />
<br />
But what I didn't expect was an instant connection that I can only describe as an unconscious. I was immediately settled. I knew her. There was some awkwardness, yes. But the awkwardness was that it wasn't awkward. The lulls in conversation were because we were all so at ease. The questions and answers were love.<br />
<br />
Also, it was beautiful weather, but we didn't sit outside. And it didn't even matter one tiny bit.<br />
<br />
My brother said it well, when he said "Meeting up today was the last thing I wanted to do, but I did it because I want to get to what's next."<br />
<br />
Yep. I totally get it. Let's get on with life. Together.<br />
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Was the meeting like "My Adoption Story"? YES. Actually, it was better. We talked, we looked through photo albums, we went to get lunch <i>(where Matthew and I awkwardly discovered that we're both obsessive about our food not touching)</i> and planned to meet up again a few weeks later for Matthew's birthday.<br />
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I don't have a single photo from that birthday gathering, possibly because our three kids were running around, busy with excitement. During this second visit we also got to meet my brothers amazing girlfriend, Morgan. To say I like her would be an understatement.<br />
<br />
During our visit, Macy asked me "What's HER name?" as she pointed to my birth mom.<br />
<br />
Well, Macy, that's a good question. Just calling her "Lisa" didn't seem right.<br />
<br />
"Macy, how about Grandma Lisa?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah! Gramma Weesa, can you walk in the forest with me?"<br />
<br />
"Gramma Weesa! Watch me on the swing!"<br />
<br />
And also..."Uncle Maffew, see me runnin'?"<br />
<br />
This is jumping and flailing and flying freely.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
A few weeks later, I got a voicemail from my brother. He said that my birth dad<i> (if you're confused, this is also Matthew's dad) </i>wanted to see me. So in August we drove to my brothers house just south of us and reunited.<br />
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It was another instant connection. He has so many similarities to my dad. His mannerisms, his personality, his facade.<br />
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<br />
He shared a photo on Facebook afterwards, and what he expressed hit me so deep. He said "33 years ago I kissed my beautiful daughter goodbye, today I got to kiss her hello." I think it reminded me that these have been full-circle moments not just for me, but for them as well.<br />
<br />
I imagine that as much as I've wondered about them, they've wondered about me. I always wanted to believe that, but maybe I never allowed myself to really go there.<br />
<br />
And here's where I realize that my book <i>didn't</i> start on the day I was adopted. My book started long before that, and the first few chapters were a mystery to me until this year.<br />
<br />
When we left that get-together in August, just as we always do, we talked about the next time we'd all be together. My birthday was 6 weeks away, and I said that I'd be BEYOND thrilled if everyone would come to our house for my birthday.<br />
<br />
Everyone?! Like, everyone??<br />
<br />
<i>Everyone</i>.<br />
<br />
I knew this would be outside of what was comfortable. I knew it had the potential to be epically awkward <i>(I strongly dislike the word 'epic', but I think this is one time that it fits)</i>. I knew that some people may want to say 'no thanks' and I was okay with that.<br />
<br />
But instead of "no thanks" everyone said "I'll be there!".<br />
<br />
Everyone.<br />
<br />
So for my 34th birthday, all the people who helped get me to this place gathered together. All the people who love me, love our kids, and allow us to love them. Under one roof. To celebrate me.<br />
<br />
The only people missing were my two dads. I believe that both would have been here with bells on, if they could have.<br />
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<br />
This whole journey has been weird. I've used that word a lot over the past year as I'm telling this very story. Because right now I don't know what other word to use.<br />
<br />
This thing that I thought only happened to 'other people' has now happened to me. I have felt as though I'm the center of a story that is in the process of being written. I'm the main character, but I'm also the writer. I get to decide where I go and how I handle things.<br />
<br />
This life really is up to me. I'm responsible for myself. My thought process is my responsibility. If I'm scared and reluctant and timid and hesitant because - WHAT IF - then it's nobody's fault but my own. I believe that I could have sat on this, and that would have been okay. Jake would have eventually piped down about it, and I'd be going on with my comfortable, safe life.<br />
<br />
It's my story, so nobody could have told me I was wrong.<br />
<br />
But then I see this, and I know it's so right.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezSUHevbhpoT3KW_2rdxMjDU_yCSxKUnh9LVRnO1N7UIwTHGYUIO-G509TJ5rKl4Df1N1nwQvyC-CDRV9r_T3QfyXDSMCu2uY6KDWypUQrsQJ8MpCGexkTNdMR7C4tuBFyBx-gb0MhQ4z/s1600/IMG_2622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezSUHevbhpoT3KW_2rdxMjDU_yCSxKUnh9LVRnO1N7UIwTHGYUIO-G509TJ5rKl4Df1N1nwQvyC-CDRV9r_T3QfyXDSMCu2uY6KDWypUQrsQJ8MpCGexkTNdMR7C4tuBFyBx-gb0MhQ4z/s640/IMG_2622.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Because of these women, I'm here. They've each contributed to who I am in their own unique ways, and I love each of them uniquely.<br />
<br />
I don't believe they are competing against each other or battling each other. I believe they're each confident in the uniqueness that they bring.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9TQXKyDsnJtRtZYERWWjGLc3l_5RblQNfAhziqVQllDPfaNvV2n0TQ5gMwEkdp9wuXl31NOv1vMqcOvdoqZlDOboqoCSO9TkCRJzZ5nbPbX-9Xh0BidI8gNsYBXRQTzPDpEUQWws5w-A/s1600/IMG_2617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="1600" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9TQXKyDsnJtRtZYERWWjGLc3l_5RblQNfAhziqVQllDPfaNvV2n0TQ5gMwEkdp9wuXl31NOv1vMqcOvdoqZlDOboqoCSO9TkCRJzZ5nbPbX-9Xh0BidI8gNsYBXRQTzPDpEUQWws5w-A/s640/IMG_2617.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
That sign behind us was something I picked up a few years ago from a 50% off sale at Hobby Lobby. But that's the title of this chapter. <i>Let Love Grow.</i><br />
<br />
This is what it looks like to let love grow. I wanted to squelch it. I wanted to dig it up.<br />
<br />
THANK GOD I just let it grow.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
There are more women who aren't in the picture above - some related to me by blood, some related to me by love. All these women who love me, and allow me to love them. Sometimes I just can't believe how good this story is turning out. And other times, I'm the one person who stands in the way of anything good happening. I sabotage my own story. I show up as the villain and make a mess of everything.<br />
<br />
Let this be a reminder for myself. This is what happens when I get out of the way and let love grow.<br />
<br />
And the woman in the story who jumps freely into the hard and scary thing?<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
It's her. She's the one who taught me to run and jump and flail and do it with wild abandon.<br />
<br />
When we were adopting Carter I referenced a quote frequently from Mary Oliver. She said "Tell me, what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?". What I planned to do 7 years ago is much different than my plans of today.<br />
<br />
Today, my plan starts with giving up control so that I can jump and fly. This is not the easiest thing I've ever done, and I'm still learning. I've got so much to learn.<br />
<br />
To everyone who has invested in me, I thank you. I owe many people, and I believe the best way to pay them back is to use what they've given to me and make more with it.<br />
<br />
I want the end of my book to be all about making more by loving and being loved by others.<br />
<br />
Closing this chapter a little sadly, as it was such an amazing one in which things happened swiftly and good things kept coming. I believe this is one chapter I'll look back on frequently and think "Man, those were good times."<br />
<br />
But I also believe that good times are ahead. Doing life together sounds so good.<br />
<br />
Life together, for everyone.<br />
<br />
<i>Everyone?! </i><br />
<br />
Everyone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-49109503416157484702018-10-31T16:00:00.000-05:002018-10-31T19:57:50.133-05:00PART 3: Slow The Crap Down*This is PART 3 in a four-part series. To read PART 1 & 2, click below.*<br />
<br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/10/part-1-gift-of-adoption.html" target="_blank">PART 1: The Gift of Adoption</a><br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/10/part-2-jump-toward-hope.html" target="_blank">PART 2: Jump Towards Hope</a><br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>SLOW THE CRAP DOWN</b><br />
<br />
"I think we should send a Facebook message to the three kids, and their mom (my match)."<br />
<br />
At this point, we didn't know which grown kid was my birth parent. We didn't know much of anything, really. For all I knew, my life could have been a huge secret that the other siblings knew nothing about. Maybe I was a secret from my birth parent's new family. Maybe I was a secret they had spent the last 34 years trying to forget about. We tried to keep this in mind as we put together our Facebook message.<br />
<br />
<i>"Hello! My name is Ashley. I was born September 30, 1984 in W****. Shortly after my birth, I was adopted by a couple in O****. I have never known the identity of my biological family. The only thing I know from my adoption file is that one of my grandfathers was a pilot. I recently did an AncestryDNA test and it came back that I am a closely related match to Shirley. Thanks to social media, I've done a little digging and discovered all of you.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>I'm wondering if you might be able to help provide me some answers to how Shirley, or any of you, might fit into my story! I've spent my life being incredibly grateful for the gift of life that was given to me by my birth parents, and I'd love the chance to share that with them. I know I am asking a lot, but would you be willing to help me connect some dots? Grateful for any info you might be able to share!"</i><br />
<br />
Send.<br />
<br />
This was just before heading to bed for the night, and I'm not sure how I was able to sleep. But sleep, I did. And when I woke up in the morning, I checked Facebook. OBVIOUSLY. But there was nothing there. In fact, nobody even saw my message.<br />
<br />
<i>"What if it's in their messenger junk folder that I always said never existed but now it seems totally logical to run forward on this as quick as I can?!?!"</i><br />
<br />
Slow your roll, girl. Thanks, Jake.<br />
<br />
I had a coffee date with Betty that day. My goal was to sit across the table from this dear friend and sip coffee, while she sips her hot water with lemon, and be all about her. I did this, and she did this for me as well. I shared tidbits of what had played out in the previous 24 hours, and she cried, cried, cried. It slowed me down even more, and helped me realize that this is something.<br />
<br />
This is <i>something</i>, and I'll appreciate it more if I slow down and embrace it. All of it. The tension, the release, and every spot in between. Thanks, Betty.<br />
<br />
When I got out to my car after our coffee date, I checked Facebook. OBVIOUSLY. This time, I could see that my post was seen by a few people in the group.<br />
<br />
"Okay, good. Someone saw it and now I can rest in knowing that I did what I could. Now it's up to them to do more."<br />
<br />
Just as I was about to call Jake, I saw that someone else was added to the group. Someone named Matt. I had no idea what this meant, but I saw it as a step in the right direction. Not only did they SEE my message, but they're doing something with it.<br />
<br />
I decided to go home and be in the moment. This meant that I was going to do what was in front of me - not obsessively check for new messages.<br />
<br />
Embracing it, and waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
As someone who writes about family, kids, life, there are many things I don't share. Not because I don't want to open them up to the world, but because when I do it feels cheapened. A penny gets tarnished by oxygen. I like to keep a few pennies really shiny. This is a penny that I'm going to keep under wraps.<br />
<br />
It's for me, and for her.<br />
<br />
Just before picking Carter up from school, I checked my messages. And there it was. The penny. A beautiful, tender, sentimental message from her. My birth mom. If I didn't know better, I would have thought that I, myself, wrote it. Her verbiage, her tone, her structure...it was me.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure if it was 30 hours of tension, or 33 years of tension. But this was the release. It was everything I didn't know I wanted. It filled a little space that I didn't realize existed.<br />
<br />
And the person she added to the group? My baby brother. My FULL baby brother, Matthew. If you're confused, this means that she and my birth dad stayed together, got married, and then had Matthew. She also told me that she was excited to share this news with my birth dad, and that he'd be thrilled.<br />
<br />
She shared with me that she always kept her information updated with the agency, and also some adoption search websites. When I turned 30, she assumed that since I hadn't found her yet, I wasn't interested in reuniting. Yet, here I am.<br />
<br />
This part of the story is called "Enjoying It". I remember feeling so incredibly settled. So many questions that I had throughout my life had been answered.<br />
<br />
Okay, but hold on. There is one little piece of her response that I believe is worth sharing. Remember when I said that as a kid, I always fantasized about my birth family celebrating my birthday with cake? I knew I didn't want to even MENTION this to her, because I didn't want her to lie to me out of feeling obligated.<br />
<br />
But.<br />
<br />
One of the first things she shared with me is that every year, on my birthday, they had cake.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Cake for me.<br />
<br />
The skeptic in me wondered if this was just something she felt like she should say. But it was confirmed moments later when I received my first message from my brother. In it, he said that every September they celebrated my birthday. He spent his whole life<i> (as an only child)</i> knowing that he had a sister 'out there somewhere'.<br />
<br />
Over the next several days, I remember crying while I was scrambling eggs or folding laundry or reading my kids books. Macy would ask me "Mom, are you feelin' sad?".<br />
<br />
No, Macy. I'm feeling happy. Really happy.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
{Come back tomorrow for PART 4}<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-84343909444006508212018-10-30T17:00:00.000-05:002018-11-01T09:24:13.667-05:00PART 2: Jump Toward Hope*This is PART 2 in a four-part series. To read PART 1 click below.*<br />
<br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/10/part-1-gift-of-adoption.html" target="_blank">PART 1: The Gift of Adoption</a><br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
<b>JUMP TOWARDS HOPE</b><br />
<br />
This is where the story turns from feelings of hope, to feelings of fear and nervousness.<br />
<br />
At this point, the AncestryDNA 'match' could be nothing. But it could also be something. There was this feeling in the back of my head. What if they don't want to know me? What if their family doesn't know about me? What if they're upset I haven't reached out yet? What if they're psychotic?<br />
<br />
And this is where the story turns from racing ahead to slowing down. I'm really thankful for the people in my life who slow me down. I have several people I can talk to that I know will slow my roll. During this part of the story - the part of nervousness and fear and anticipation - I talked to these people a lot.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
So I clicked on it. And it turns out, a 'close relative match' is NOT something AncestryDNA says to everyone as a marketing ploy. I really did have a close match, and the person who I was matched with used their real name for their AncestryDNA username.<br />
<br />
"Let's search Facebook!" he said. And like a scared little girl, I dug my heels in.<br />
<br />
Here I am, on the brink of something scary. I don't know how this is going to turn out. Whether this is something or nothing - it really doesn't matter. Who do I want to be? How do I want to live this out? How do I want Macy to handle scary situations, someday?<br />
<br />
I know this really inspiring woman who consistently runs and jumps freely into the hard thing. She dives right in, confident in who she is and what she has to offer. She chooses discomfort often, and I've seen her grow before my very eyes.<br />
<br />
That's what I want to do. I want to run and jump and flail, worried about nothing more than how the wind feels in my hair as I fly.<br />
<br />
So this is what I did.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
"Okay, yes. Let's search Facebook."<br />
<br />
Facebook is good for a couple things - one of those things is looking at pictures and making all kinds of assumed connections. In our case, it worked out okay, thankfully. But I wouldn't recommend it.<br />
<br />
The person I was matched with on AncestryDNA shared a Facebook account with her husband, but had photos of her three grown kids. Two sons and a daughter. A few clicks, and we were scrolling through her son's Facebook photos.<br />
<br />
One photo stood out to us.<br />
<br />
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<br />
The caption read: Scott and me in front of Dad's 1968 Mooney M20C "Ranger" airplane, circa 1975.<br />
<br />
I know very little about my birth family at this point. But one piece of information that I DID have was that one of my grandfathers was a pilot.<br />
<br />
At this point <i>(after 5 minutes on Facebook) </i>we believed that the person I was matched with on AncestryDNA was one of my grandmothers.<br />
<br />
One of her three children was one of my birth parents.<br />
<br />
I remember staring at the photo of these three grown kids of hers. Which one is it? Do I look like any of them? They look happy. Am I about to turn everything upside down?<br />
<br />
A few hours ago, I believed that this AncestryDNA kit would just be a concise little sentence in my book. But, it's looking like it's actually its own chapter.<br />
<br />
And it might even effect the rest of the book.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
Because we don't trust Facebook with the trajectory of our lives, we decided to do some extra detective work. Jake has connections with a local police department, and they did a quick workup on the person I was matched with on AncestryDNA. Her phone numbers were from the area I was born, and although she now lives in a different part of the country, it was pretty clear based on the other information provided that she WAS who AncestryDNA said she was.<br />
<br />
Literally, about 8 hours had passed from the time I got the AncestryDNA email to the time we had confirmation of who my match was. Yesterday I was just walking along, minding my own business. Today, I'm on the edge of a cliff faced with a choice. Now that I have this information, I can sit on it and do nothing. That's an option. It might have been the comfortable option, because, WHAT IF?!?!<br />
<br />
And then I think about that woman I know who runs and jumps. 'Sitting on it' is not running and jumping and flailing and laughing.<br />
<br />
So I jumped.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/10/part-3-slow-crap-down.html" target="_blank">{Click here for PART 3}</a>Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-37186635268031159922018-10-29T20:33:00.001-05:002018-10-31T08:45:09.706-05:00PART 1: The Gift of AdoptionThis past Christmas, I received a gift that changed my life. I don't think I'm a dramatic person, or someone who exaggerates for the sake of the story.<br />
<br />
When I say it changed my life, I mean it.<br />
<br />
Because it's too much information <i>(read: FEELINGS!) </i>for one post, the next 4 blog posts will chronicle the past year of my life.<br />
<br />
Here we go.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
<b>THE GIFT OF ADOPTION</b><br />
<br />
The past year, I've felt as though I'm the main character of a story. Different seasons of my life represent different chapters of this story. Some chapters, I'm very happy to close and move on to what's next. Other chapters, I want to linger in and read again & again. And then there are chapters that I hardly remember because I was too busy thinking what everyone else thought about the chapter, or wishing for the next chapter, or being annoyed by the other characters in the book.<br />
<br />
This chapter in my book is such a good one.<br />
<br />
I've been pretty open about the fact that I'm adopted. I was born in the southern part of our state, and have lived just an hour's drive north of there my whole life. I was raised as an only child and my parents always did an amazing job of teaching me that being adopted was a gift. I always viewed adoption as a very positive thing. I owe this completely to my parents.<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
They would tell me that my birth parents had such immense love for me that they made the hardest choice to allow me to be adopted. I grew up believing that adoption led me to the best life possible.<br />
<br />
Later, when I met Jake, I believed this even more. I used to think "I could have missed all of this". I was just one decision away from having a completely different life.<br />
<br />
I didn't know WHAT that different life would have been, because I knew almost nothing about my birth family. I heard that my birth parents really loved each other, and they had similar interests as my adoptive parents. I also heard that one of my grandfathers was a pilot.<br />
<br />
That's it. That's all I knew. And for 33 years, I was okay with that.<br />
<br />
I frequently thought about my birth family, and wondered where they lived or what their life was like. If I saw a woman in a store who had hair like mine, I wondered if it was my birth mom. If someone laughed like me across the restaurant, I wondered if we could be related. I wondered if they would have been proud of the person I was becoming. Sometimes I wondered if they were even alive.<br />
<br />
On birthdays, I wondered if they celebrated my birthday. Maybe they felt bad on that day. Or, worse than that, maybe they didn't remember my birthday at all. But there was a part of me, all through my life, that wanted so badly to believe they had cake on my birthday.<br />
<br />
As a little kid, this seemed very real to me. As an adult, it seemed absurd.<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
As much as I thought about them, I was okay not knowing them.<br />
<br />
It was like MY book started on the day I was adopted. I knew that my birth parents both had books, but they weren't MY books. I thought maybe some day it would be cool to read their books, but the likelihood of that happening seemed slim.<br />
<br />
Part of who I am is someone who doesn't want anyone to feel bad. So, looking back, I believe that I actually wanted to know my birth family, but not if it would lead anyone else to feel bad. Finding them was not really something I talked about to anyone. In fact, I think everyone assumed I DIDN'T want to find them.<br />
<br />
In high school I binge-watched a show <i>(before binge-watching was a thing!)</i> called My Adoption Story on TLC. It followed the reunion story of adopted adults with their birth families. I thought it seemed like a fairytale that was great for everyone on the show, but I doubted a reunion would ever happen for me.<br />
<br />
And I was okay with that. Sort of.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
A month or so prior to Christmas 2017, my Grandpa asked me if he could get me an AncestryDNA kit. We've talked before about how interesting it might be to know my ethnic background. He joked that maybe I'd even find my birth family.<br />
<br />
I laughed, because those are the crazy things that happen to other people. But not to me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihFJ2a4fzZEOhyphenhyphenR8RBaT35_N3jHc4EgJNGLQ2nJ3LuUJ5HXxpQ9TQu9R8x1MDDytSM-YMqtSL-HvhcTGtV8IvLn4kOGsk9aqScvRlwxQd3at3poD4yHb5INLyIhylp9R-BS7FHula8yJNh/s1600/fullsizeoutput_44f.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1207" data-original-width="1600" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihFJ2a4fzZEOhyphenhyphenR8RBaT35_N3jHc4EgJNGLQ2nJ3LuUJ5HXxpQ9TQu9R8x1MDDytSM-YMqtSL-HvhcTGtV8IvLn4kOGsk9aqScvRlwxQd3at3poD4yHb5INLyIhylp9R-BS7FHula8yJNh/s640/fullsizeoutput_44f.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Christmas came and went and my kit lived on the kitchen counter. It's not that I didn't want to do it, I just wasn't in a hurry. I thought I'd get to it, eventually. I guess I wasn't in a rush to find out that I'm just as German as I've always assumed.<br />
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There was also a tiny part of me that wondered if I was ready for this. Because what if this leads to something? What if this is the first step into an unknown journey? What if this opens a chapter that I won't want to read?<br />
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And then I would get frustrated with myself, because if this IS part of my reunion story, why do I feel so jittery about it? Why am I digging my heels in? Shouldn't I be excited?<br />
<br />
Finally in February I spit in the little tube and sent it off to the lab. It was a long wait and after several weeks I forgot about it and went about life.<br />
<br />
On the morning of April 9, I received an email from AncestryDNA. Oh yea, that's right! I've been waiting for this email. I had been preparing myself for nothing more than a few ethnic percentages, in an attempt to keep my expectations low.<br />
<br />
"Ashley, the AncestryDNA results you've been waiting for are here. You're about to discover your ethnicity estimate, get a unique look at your family's journey through generations, and maybe even connect with long-lost relatives. We're so excited for you!"<br />
<br />
At this point, if I'm being honest, there was a tiny spark of hope that maybe, maybe, maybe this was the start of something. I told Jake I got the email and we looked at my ethnicity together.<br />
<br />
"Cool! I'm Danish! And Eastern European! And Irish! And German!"<br />
"Yeah, what else? What else does it say?!?"<br />
"It says I have a close relative match. It probably says that to everyone."<br />
"Uhh...are you going to click on it?!"<br />
<br />
This is where I'll let you in on a little secret.<br />
<br />
At this moment in time, our lives were as close to perfection as they've ever been. Jake and I frequently talk about working together like a well-oiled machine. It takes a lot of cogs & gears to keep our life running. On this day, in this moment, during this chapter, everything was running together so smoothly.<br />
<br />
It was almost too good.<br />
<br />
This potential discovery brought up a lot of feelings for me that I didn't even know I had.<br />
<br />
".....Well?!? Don't you want to see what it says?"<br />
"I'm not sure right now." <i>(Because this seemed better than telling him to let me isolate so I can run ahead in fear.)</i><br />
<br />
I remember thinking a lot about the lyrics to <a href="https://youtu.be/cqa8O1ktxk8" target="_blank">this song</a>.<br />
<br />
<i>"Now I am hidden</i><br />
<i>In the safety of Your love</i><br />
<i>I trust Your heart and Your intentions</i><br />
<i>Trust You completely</i><br />
<i>I'm listening intently</i><br />
<i>You'll guide me through these many shadows."</i><br />
<br />
I didn't know for sure, but I believed I would have choices to make. This would be the first of many. To click or not to click?<br />
<br />
That's not the question. The question is, do I trust Him?<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
<a href="https://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2018/10/part-2-jump-toward-hope.html" target="_blank">{Click here for PART 2}</a><br />
<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-90021544759645691122018-05-30T11:41:00.000-05:002018-06-06T11:45:02.171-05:00Look At Him Now - On Turning TEN!Ten years ago today, somewhere in Kiev, Ukraine, this little man took his very first breath.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXbEqsjajhgdA2qTBJdTWchAxZLHKY5hMZnyRfTSyqjWCMmjabaNkdwQYg_YUqPc45rztax38nHfp4YdNStyF_EWYuy7lqVtsfBojWFy89zKAr8xti2YISNGNoVJVZaZ31F9GNO8KZQwF/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1e2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1245" data-original-width="1600" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXbEqsjajhgdA2qTBJdTWchAxZLHKY5hMZnyRfTSyqjWCMmjabaNkdwQYg_YUqPc45rztax38nHfp4YdNStyF_EWYuy7lqVtsfBojWFy89zKAr8xti2YISNGNoVJVZaZ31F9GNO8KZQwF/s640/fullsizeoutput_1e2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I wasn't there, but I believe in this first moments he felt love. His parents took him home, and I believe that for three whole months, Carter felt their love. When they decided, in September, to take him to the orphanage - I choose to believe they walked away from him in love.<br />
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I so wish they could see him today. Ten years old, and so proud of himself. I imagine they'd feel proud, too.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
Dear Carter,<br />
<br />
I think Year Ten was our best year, yet. We definitely had our struggles.<br />
<br />
But all good things are hard.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAq8dv7iajS7HfravBoAq3nC4SGy_0_BdJ7U7Rl-Bs-lJXQdRQtXCIckg_GbD5HQcvnB_k9ygg1V69FcXQ3lrKLiScME-opleKc-_bJ-3y4bDigSB4oE1maf2BNaLI7fk2yJJ70NFGP8Y/s1600/fullsizeoutput_179.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAq8dv7iajS7HfravBoAq3nC4SGy_0_BdJ7U7Rl-Bs-lJXQdRQtXCIckg_GbD5HQcvnB_k9ygg1V69FcXQ3lrKLiScME-opleKc-_bJ-3y4bDigSB4oE1maf2BNaLI7fk2yJJ70NFGP8Y/s640/fullsizeoutput_179.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
We learned so much this year about how to love you and understand you. You've been an excellent teacher. So patient with us as we move through this life so quickly. But you take us by the hand, look us in the eye, and remind us to slow down.<br />
<br />
So slow down, we will.<br />
<br />
Today is your day, and I think if you could plan a birthday party for yourself, it would be at a beach. There would be a dock to walk on, a boat to ride in, soft sand, and clean water. There would not be one single bug or dragonfly. I think there would be goats at your party, to smash your cake <i>(because you tell us about goats smashing cakes a lot, I think this is a funny joke of yours)</i>. I think all the attendees would stomp like Frankenstein<i> (another favorite thing of yours)</i> and we would yell "SURPRISE!!!" and "COOOOOL!!" at seemingly random moments throughout the party. There would be lots of cake<i> (no tummy-ache cake!)</i> and pie. All your favorite people would be there, and we would beach it up until after bedtime.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE02TVtkegIkoEOJua7Gst4URtpixYskhD24hTTWr9vVfh_qcmWF_B38uWJlrFkoiHaQd0sHKjSOt4oktcR28cgz5Bqm6GMvV-O808g6K3gcXnmUzp_SAPWeh35buwc9chodK9_xBXxiqM/s1600/fullsizeoutput_211.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1036" data-original-width="1600" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE02TVtkegIkoEOJua7Gst4URtpixYskhD24hTTWr9vVfh_qcmWF_B38uWJlrFkoiHaQd0sHKjSOt4oktcR28cgz5Bqm6GMvV-O808g6K3gcXnmUzp_SAPWeh35buwc9chodK9_xBXxiqM/s640/fullsizeoutput_211.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When we love someone a whole lot, we embrace their uniqueness. <br />Sometimes this means we have a toilet paper & paper towel birthday cake!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This sounds like a recurring dream I have. But in the dream, you turn to me and grab my face in your hands and say, plain as day, "Mom, I love you and I love life. I'm happy. Thanks for giving me a chance."<br />
<br />
And sometimes I feel sad that you haven't or won't or can't say those things to me. But then you take my hands, look me in the eye, and we slow down - and thats when I recognize that there was so much of that this year.<br />
<br />
Maybe you didn't use your words to tell me, but you told me. Maybe it didn't come out as clearly as you wanted, but I hear you. I see you. I feel you.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJX8PQMvRqTHblG3cQVJAHqhtJRwpPfuR8iQcqJpx31WRqvTspO6bv4Atv94LCP0y9PG23DN80YYijOOgkwdb3MIuXRAGzO1CaoyXtg9tRqFqHLYcyD7loAhJwmcQRZZqtAlrn2JzlXouJ/s1600/fullsizeoutput_234.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJX8PQMvRqTHblG3cQVJAHqhtJRwpPfuR8iQcqJpx31WRqvTspO6bv4Atv94LCP0y9PG23DN80YYijOOgkwdb3MIuXRAGzO1CaoyXtg9tRqFqHLYcyD7loAhJwmcQRZZqtAlrn2JzlXouJ/s640/fullsizeoutput_234.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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You're happy. You're loved. You're an expert at bringing joy into every situation, when you're given the space to do so.<br />
<br />
Here's to a year of more space to bring joy. More space to be you. Who you are is big and loud and ON-every-single-second. But it's you we want, buddy.<br />
<br />
On this extra special 10th birthday, we take a second to appreciate you for who you are and the value that you bring. You're somethin' special, kid.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVnK0S_89kFB7UhiPkWqEGLMPmtvgIMaEZo8N6pvkifge2FIvNih_h_-Fa34ODkmIaaE8r-mck3sf5TGHsY0rqlTtBXBIXGSbpToulI3cns8w8N1oNMQ09rG7UD4J2VeqbT2yffmBWIoE-/s1600/fullsizeoutput_24e.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1345" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVnK0S_89kFB7UhiPkWqEGLMPmtvgIMaEZo8N6pvkifge2FIvNih_h_-Fa34ODkmIaaE8r-mck3sf5TGHsY0rqlTtBXBIXGSbpToulI3cns8w8N1oNMQ09rG7UD4J2VeqbT2yffmBWIoE-/s640/fullsizeoutput_24e.jpeg" width="538" /></a></div>
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Car-car, Cartsy, Carter B, Carter Keeko <i>(I don't even know)</i>, joy bringer extraordinaire. Happy Birthday! Gifts and cake and grandparent spoiling were all part of your day, but what you don't know is that you are the gift.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
We also wrapped up Third Grade this week. It's been an amazing school year with many successes. I purchased a copy of "Oh, The Places You'll Go" when Carter was in Early Childhood (over 6 school years ago!). Every year during the last week of school, I send the book in for the teachers to write notes to Carter. As I pulled the book out to send to school this year, I cried big tears reading all those words from that past 6 school years.<br />
<br />
Almost every teacher's note declared the value that Carter brought to their life. I thought it was the other way around - THEY have all touched and changed our life. But instead, the overwhelming theme was that Carter touches. Carter teaches. Carter changes. Carter CAN.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
We're walking in to summer with our ten-year-old fourth grader - feeling like we can accomplish just about anything together.<br />
<br />
If only they could see him now.<br />
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We feel what you're feeling. We see what you're seeing.<br />
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"Cooooool!"<br />
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<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-33357320902349798692018-04-06T08:42:00.002-05:002018-04-06T08:42:40.381-05:00We Survived Spring Break 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We made it, kids! Spring Break 2018 is in the books, and we finished it better than when we started it.</div>
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This is the first year that I can remember that Carter has had an entire week of Spring Break. An entire week. Of Spring Break.</div>
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An entire week.</div>
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I knew that if we were going to have a successful week, I'd need to be prepped for it. Success won't just happen on its own.</div>
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So we prepped, and then we dove right in. Here's our Spring Break, in photos. iPhone photos, because, well...Spring Break.</div>
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<br />
Thanks, Panera, for offering a dairy-free smoothie option. We're grateful.<br />
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<br />
Meet Silas Jacob. the first kid in our family that has me actually considering baby-locking all the cabinets and cupboards. Little babes is persistent.<br />
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And then there's this:<br />
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<br />
"Macy, what are you doing?"<br />
"Mom. Nuffin'."<br />
<br />
We did a little bit of this.<br />
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<br />
And a little bit of that.<br />
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<br />
And quite a lot of this.<br />
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"Mom, I'm pwayin' at the table so Siley can't touch my stuff!"<br />
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We even had time for a little of this, thanks to a little 24 hour bug that Macy had.<br />
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<br />
Oh, and this. Coffee date with mom<i> (orange juice in a coffee mug works just fine!).</i><br />
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<br />
Looking back on our week, it started out a little bumpy. I think I texted Jake 10 times on Monday. But by Wednesday or Thursday, we were in a good groove.<br />
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Lots of tiny moments of sharing, ordering food from 'waitress Macy', turn taking, playing games, building magnet tiles, peeking out windows, lazy afternoon naps, play doh rolling, and rolling paper <i>(a favorite pastime of Carter's!)</i>.<br />
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There was also plenty of toy-grabbing, sibling rivalry, cupboard emptying, mess clean-ups, crayon chomping <i>(a favorite pastime of Silas's!) </i>and on and on. </div>
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And then there's this: Carter's moments of mischief actually look like the very beginning stages of helpful independence. As I was changing Silas, I heard Carter tinkering around in the kitchen. When I came out, I expected to find spilled food or toys in the sink. But instead I found this:<br />
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It was intentional and purposeful - the water was contained in the sink, the soap had been squirted on the sponge and then placed back in its place.<br />
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Another day, I came out to find he had taken all the towels out of the drawer. I was about to be stern and tell him "put these away now!" but he was putting them away. Folding them, first - and then placing them in the drawer.<br />
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Okay, bud. I see you. I get it.<br />
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Growing and changing, he's becoming a thoughtful little man. There was a time I thought Carter had no capacity to think of others before himself. I think I was wrong.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wgcxDFtcEf0pDkOJxCmV9w43fGAMM_k5jzJwm3JoQ3rjLyApGw4x7uC7vpmkuGQeXDM8QvRoGP2isDa7V2DhCukmqzn6H4ADpQwAoyXIL9-mkmpoX8t7IJhcQruh5AV4ol2phfFD4DL3/s1600/thumbnail-10.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wgcxDFtcEf0pDkOJxCmV9w43fGAMM_k5jzJwm3JoQ3rjLyApGw4x7uC7vpmkuGQeXDM8QvRoGP2isDa7V2DhCukmqzn6H4ADpQwAoyXIL9-mkmpoX8t7IJhcQruh5AV4ol2phfFD4DL3/s640/thumbnail-10.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What is this, and why doesn't my mom ever use it?!?!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
All of that would be enough for me to sit back and call Spring Break 2018 a win. And I almost did. But then...<br />
<br />
Jake and I have been tossing around the idea of investing in bikes/trailers/helmets for the whole family. We thought that IF we could get Carter to cooperate, bike riding would be a great family activity for us. We live in an area with many opportunities for riding, and we're always looking for productive ways to get outside.<br />
<br />
So the week before Spring Break, we took the plunge and purchased a bike for both Jake and I, a trailer/jogger for Macy and Silas, a WeeHoo for Carter, and helmets for everyone. The bikes arrived towards the end of Spring Break, and we prepped Carter as best we could.<br />
<br />
As we headed out for our first before-dinner bike ride, Jake and I had a pep talk. "Carter is probably going to hate it - and that's okay! He'll get there! This is the first ride of many, and it will probably grow on him! Whatever happens in the next hour, everything will be okay!"<br />
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<i>(If you have a kid on the spectrum - I'm betting you've given yourself this same pep talk 100 times)</i><br />
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What happened next, you ask? Carter is what happened next.<br />
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"COOOOOOOL!!! New bikes!!! Cool!!! Helmet!! Dad pull!!! COOOOL!!!"<br />
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Happy, confident, brave, relaxed - all words to describe Carter on his first ever bike ride.<br />
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Jake and I looked at each other multiple times throughout our ride in amazement. Who is this kid? Is this really happening? How did we get here?<br />
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<i>(I've got answers for all those questions. <b>That's</b> how we got here.)</i><br />
<br />
Carter Benjamin, killin' it since 2008.<br />
<br />
We survived Spring Break 2018. And we can't wait for summer.<br />
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<br />
**Intrigued by the WeeHoo? Check them out here: rideweehoo.com</div>
Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-77853233975382754732018-03-09T03:30:00.000-06:002018-03-09T03:30:20.122-06:00Genuinely Three.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>"You're full of life now</i></div>
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<i>You're full of passion</i></div>
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<i>It's how He made you</i></div>
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<i>Just let it happen"</i></div>
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Our Sunshine Girl is three years old. As I put her to bed last night, she said "Mama, just snuggle me some mooorrre...". It was hard to peel myself out of her bed and up the stairs.</div>
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Good night, two year old. Good morning, three year old.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDHWOHs7KV-ec4JOF22-itdLUNsMFIc7EkJxXbFV-SkhyphenhyphenJxJ659gzpSy4hXWOOBGD3UujpLaZrbdmZN1obLII-B_SLxqQXZtPuL9CIPD54OfiL7Pvud1lhC5jMCKtU_-3ZH9_Wt85IiVN/s1600/DSC_0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDHWOHs7KV-ec4JOF22-itdLUNsMFIc7EkJxXbFV-SkhyphenhyphenJxJ659gzpSy4hXWOOBGD3UujpLaZrbdmZN1obLII-B_SLxqQXZtPuL9CIPD54OfiL7Pvud1lhC5jMCKtU_-3ZH9_Wt85IiVN/s640/DSC_0004.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I have so many favorite things about Macy right now. She's got so much happening in her mind and her soul. Her brain is so active and what's inside comes out freely.<br />
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Confidently, she speaks. Genuinely, she shares her thoughts with the world.<br />
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<br />
"But mom, that one's not my faaaavorite..."<br />
"Mom, I'm feelin' angry right now."<br />
"It's okay, buddy, it's okay."<br />
"Oh, yep! I betcha!"<br />
"Here me are!"<br />
"Ohhh, c'mhere baby. IIII gotcha, IIII gotcha."<br />
"Mom, I think I need some mom time."<br />
<br />
She's so gutsy and brave as she tries some new, big phrases on for size. Sometimes she faceplants and Jake and I try hard to hold back our laughter.<br />
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Other times, she soars.<br />
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I can learn so much from this girl.<br />
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Year Two was better than anything I could have imagined. Year Two was filled with joy and snuggles and compliance and such. Year Three might be a little different.<br />
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I enter Year Three boldly and confidently, just as my three year old daughter would. I'm not a good example for someone looking for perfection. I can't teach smartness. I don't know much about lots of things.<br />
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But what I can do is inspire genuine uniqueness. That's something I grasp, and want to share with my kids.<br />
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Be you, sweet Macyn. It's better than anything else you could ever be. You have strengths that we don't have. You know and understand things in beautifully unique ways, and when you share those things it makes all of us better.<br />
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We need you.<br />
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This is how He made you. Let it happen, little lady.<br />
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As you grow and change this next year, I wonder if you'll become more concerned with what others think. What I want to tell you is <i>"Don't worry about it! Their thoughts about you don't matter!"</i> but instead I'll say - Dear one, why would you worry? You are uniquely you.<br />
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This is how He made you. Let it happen.<br />
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Yes, I know, it's doesn't feel good when people don't understand you. That can be super hard.<br />
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But we understand you. And<b> you'll </b>understand you.<br />
<i>(Not everyone can say that)</i><br />
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And we'll work it out, together.<br />
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If anyone in our home is full of life and passion, it's you. Hang on tightly to that which drives you. It will be there your whole life through. We'll help you learn what it is, and where to find it, and how to use it best.<br />
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It's how He made you. Just let it happen.<br />
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Today, you are fearless. Ever since we can remember, when you jump to us it's with incredible freedom. Whether you're on the counter, at the door of the van, on the edge of your bed, on the side of the pool - when we hold out our arms to catch you, you jump in a complete, total-abandon, here-I-come way.<br />
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You don't wonder if we'll catch you. You don't pause in fear before jumping. You don't wonder what we'll think of your flailing arms and lanky legs.<br />
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You smile, and fly.<br />
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That's what I want so much of, and I'm learning it from you.<br />
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To Macyn Joy - on your third birthday. May we be more like you every day. Thanks for teaching us. We have so much to learn.<br />
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Here we walk, into year three, bold and confident. Smile & fly.<br />
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<b>One Thing I Know For Sure:</b> It's how He made you. Let it happen.<br />
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(Lyrics quoted throughout this post are from <a href="https://youtu.be/bvsAV-MgGao" target="_blank">this song</a>.)<br />
<br />
Read Macyn's Birth Story <a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2015/03/macys-story.html" target="_blank">HERE</a><br />
Read Macyn's First Birthday Post <a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2016/03/baby-girl-is-one.html" target="_blank">HERE</a><br />
Read Macyn's Second Birthday Post <a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2017/03/macy-is-two.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-56235073495457951802018-03-07T03:30:00.000-06:002018-03-07T03:30:12.953-06:00Mr. ONEderful Turns One.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last night, I gave you extra kisses. Kisses aplenty. It was our last night to have a baby in the house. </div>
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Today, you are one. </div>
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Of course, I just listened to the audio that Daddy took as you took your very first breath <i>(one of the most thoughtful and meaningful gifts your Daddy ever gave me - recording the first moments of your life, and of Macy's life). </i></div>
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The first four minutes of your life, all on audio. </div>
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What I heard was so much love. Lots of laughing and affirming. Tiny little cries from you. A midwife who said<i> "Silas, don't mess with your mama" </i>because in two pushes, you were here.</div>
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And then I said what I <i>so</i> remember feeling.<br />
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<i>"That was hard. That was really hard."</i><br />
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Your first moments of life were intense, for sure. I wasn't expecting it to go that way.<br />
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It was a <i>hard</i> 20 minutes of active labor, but I had no idea of the good stuff that awaited me.<br />
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I'm so glad we said <i>"let's have one more". </i><br />
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Silas Jacob - the friendliest of friends. Social butterfly, fully engaged, feeling all the people.<br />
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Our family needed you.<br />
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You've made life easy for this mama, who now has three kids to mind. You can entertain yourself for long periods of time while I help a Big Sister with her magnet tile creations and play doh sculpting, and a Big Brother with his snacks and dressing his babydoll.<br />
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I peek at you from time to time, and when our eyes meet you flash me the hammiest smile.<br />
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You don't <i>need</i> me, usually - but I'm thankful that you <i>want</i> me. I'll be your jungle gym, your food-giver, your two-second snuggle when you're upset.<br />
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It may seem like I'm busy, but I'm here. And I'm never too busy for you.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9o2K2TuCprvC-rO2HENFFpkv7afuxnHvGtTN0bOaxqo3kg1u7s8ENUXywROG0LY47-WNwsrSGtQgqMFUZ5i4G23SJTyOSsgwNqpIq1hyphenhyphenQ1aG0lKNegzWxRNITw7-PBM_sTm-20PiQ-1y/s1600/DSC_0201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9o2K2TuCprvC-rO2HENFFpkv7afuxnHvGtTN0bOaxqo3kg1u7s8ENUXywROG0LY47-WNwsrSGtQgqMFUZ5i4G23SJTyOSsgwNqpIq1hyphenhyphenQ1aG0lKNegzWxRNITw7-PBM_sTm-20PiQ-1y/s640/DSC_0201.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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On your first birthday, I'm allowing myself to feel all the sentimental feelings. I'm celebrating your life - and celebrating you.<br />
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You! Silas Jacob. Siley-J. Siley-Jaybird. Si-si. Siley Pep.<br />
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A unique little person, who will do well with nourishing and cherishing.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4n8IJxt16kcvmTrsCpD8r7MVZOQlqJpYJHzuoxUZDuDYNdfLcyFHRMB4rrGFseyl6t2oBWTdJJbGjDSkxU2vT6b9kUn3tIkk-pYryZL8ctQSQSTcs8179nmO2bY60GG_fEm1N7EA5NCXU/s1600/DSC_0137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4n8IJxt16kcvmTrsCpD8r7MVZOQlqJpYJHzuoxUZDuDYNdfLcyFHRMB4rrGFseyl6t2oBWTdJJbGjDSkxU2vT6b9kUn3tIkk-pYryZL8ctQSQSTcs8179nmO2bY60GG_fEm1N7EA5NCXU/s640/DSC_0137.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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I'm so glad that I get to be your mom.<br />
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Sometimes we'll step back and say <i>"That was hard" </i>but there are good things around the bend.<br />
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I'm sure of it.<br />
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And together, Team Gibson will get there. Sometimes it will be slow <i>(it's usually best that way)</i>. Sometimes it will be uncomfortable<i> (most good things are).</i> But big smiles and sunshine await.<br />
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So, to our sweet, friendly, patient, tender boy: we treasure you, buddy. We believe that big, amazing, excellent things await you. We are so glad to be part of your unique story. Helping you write it will be one of the greatest joys of our life.<br />
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Here's to a wild & precious life of loving others and being loved by others.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYgfB7tjGH48sdffRXl4HSq1PRfUhvEI0IXgiSjC9nQMs3WgmyKIm0NnXw5AeLhlP5rlx_Eq4vUwd0pTalYgUH9-TzOdRMvu7ynpsurFfb5IJf_gm5czlSIP-ObZaO77c5KxQ3GzWqZdo/s1600/DSC_0144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYgfB7tjGH48sdffRXl4HSq1PRfUhvEI0IXgiSjC9nQMs3WgmyKIm0NnXw5AeLhlP5rlx_Eq4vUwd0pTalYgUH9-TzOdRMvu7ynpsurFfb5IJf_gm5czlSIP-ObZaO77c5KxQ3GzWqZdo/s640/DSC_0144.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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"Yaaaaay Siley!"<br />
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<b>One Thing I Know For Sure:</b> So much love.<br />
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Read Silas's Birth Story <a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2017/03/silas-jacob-is-here.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>.Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-49789529088841924002018-02-01T12:38:00.000-06:002018-02-01T13:42:44.650-06:00Top 10 of 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's time for the Top 10 of 2017.</div>
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Hahaha. That's a funny joke. Everyone here knows I didn't keep it to just ten. I just can't help it - I start looking through photos from the past 12 months, and all the feels just come at me, and soon they're dripping out of my eyes. </div>
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So, let's call this post "My Biggest Feels of 2017". That's better. </div>
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In chronological order, because I could never pick a favorite. Here we go.</div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">{1}</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">NEW BABY</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEide25-a2xHaZMa6EM6ivMrrljGyZiwGKcyu30qWVkNKw3iC1ZVTM_73Jg6hkDh1dmIUZ6FIALbaA_qPgq_scLBEWO4NNhJLoULYwsViUJStdfyLUm4UIXL_uZ31DeEUfP7k7w8VIaUdgc3/s1600/DSC_0214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEide25-a2xHaZMa6EM6ivMrrljGyZiwGKcyu30qWVkNKw3iC1ZVTM_73Jg6hkDh1dmIUZ6FIALbaA_qPgq_scLBEWO4NNhJLoULYwsViUJStdfyLUm4UIXL_uZ31DeEUfP7k7w8VIaUdgc3/s640/DSC_0214.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Silas Jacob was welcomed into the world on March 7, and Macy marched right in and took her role as Big Sis very seriously. I'll never forget her squeaky little 23-month old voice saying "Hi, Tiny! Hi, Little Squeaker!" like she had been waiting nine months to call him those names. Her squinty eyes and squishy cheeks pointed up in the most sincere smile, this girl was sister-material from the beginning.</div>
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<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2017/03/silas-jacob-is-here.html" target="_blank">Read more here.</a></div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">{2}</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">TWO YEARS OLD</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNUAjK_7WPtKDhFfHCXGVk-rSK03qd_NMvnse4hwnMNSZv0RXctZSRFUL09OcEEiOi_C_FeDCqGonWKNX8LbkZpzY1wIhu_LuqmGyZ8cL16mj5BXcWwRImkNBqlj1Mm7tqDYGkMHBT37H4/s1600/DSC_0313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNUAjK_7WPtKDhFfHCXGVk-rSK03qd_NMvnse4hwnMNSZv0RXctZSRFUL09OcEEiOi_C_FeDCqGonWKNX8LbkZpzY1wIhu_LuqmGyZ8cL16mj5BXcWwRImkNBqlj1Mm7tqDYGkMHBT37H4/s640/DSC_0313.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Just two days after welcoming Silas, we celebrated Macy's second birthday. Sweetest little sunshine girl, celebrating her comes easy.</div>
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<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2017/03/macy-is-two.html" target="_blank">Read more here.</a></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{3}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>CUUUTE BABY</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMe4Ur6hEY4Bl96v19Em9GJk9O3SSiC84W1BpnFbDE1H4bJSLRREtR1bV9nbutPWGcOwO04qkg9y2yzzXTPOpTQvinHiWQKuDfk-1jj7m2e8WhMe_ODmCm0FdwNTPJvSMTKyv8YmGDQBqU/s1600/IMG_7717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMe4Ur6hEY4Bl96v19Em9GJk9O3SSiC84W1BpnFbDE1H4bJSLRREtR1bV9nbutPWGcOwO04qkg9y2yzzXTPOpTQvinHiWQKuDfk-1jj7m2e8WhMe_ODmCm0FdwNTPJvSMTKyv8YmGDQBqU/s640/IMG_7717.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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When Macy was a baby, Carter tolerated her. He might have even liked her, a little bit. But his relationship with Silas is different. Maybe it's brotherhood. Maybe Carter has matured. Maybe he practiced with Macy and is perfecting it with Silas. Whatever it is, I like it. </div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{4}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>LOVE GROWING</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUpHuRXHlpAD8quWRWf2dAAI2g_lNLNvU8NJu_zOoCCIdqAHHQIimgWhkvrbLa2sbYVNA3znz_n4GJd4OMQX3170qvKwPmJxcjddZ2RBYny7gGIX0ZR22dLAyzigIGvF3nEIRC8EwWSRxQ/s1600/DSC_0146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUpHuRXHlpAD8quWRWf2dAAI2g_lNLNvU8NJu_zOoCCIdqAHHQIimgWhkvrbLa2sbYVNA3znz_n4GJd4OMQX3170qvKwPmJxcjddZ2RBYny7gGIX0ZR22dLAyzigIGvF3nEIRC8EwWSRxQ/s640/DSC_0146.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Blurry sister, but I don't care. These are the early days with three kids. The photos were blurry, and so was our life. Things are clearing up a bit now, but these blurry days still look so good to me. What she doesn't know is this boy she calls 'Tiny' will soon be as big as her, and into all her stuff. Either way, love still grows.</div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{5}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>EVERYDAY LIFE</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUws8Zfxp88L68PYlYWlw16A3efxQhFxdExpdYkWQRX5wZIogbZgQdlJljmATz953_nw0ID62kaM_-bFVrpyLqVgc3M65RwZNv2fiFNouILodKhU31DyoSBPWIy71CgQzMIi975VwTCxAC/s1600/IMG_7915.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUws8Zfxp88L68PYlYWlw16A3efxQhFxdExpdYkWQRX5wZIogbZgQdlJljmATz953_nw0ID62kaM_-bFVrpyLqVgc3M65RwZNv2fiFNouILodKhU31DyoSBPWIy71CgQzMIi975VwTCxAC/s640/IMG_7915.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Those blurry days I talked about? Even the teeth brushing sessions were precious. Three kids, a tired mom, and so much goodness. These are the moments I'll cry for 10 years from now. </div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{6}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>BELIEVE HIM</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRN83rSACSG3cd5XEgTcBuevLkOhijz7DVXEXQdEaaqk5i4qLWYatXVJYNnsUKM6xt1pbku7x4mmWd44yZTJiqXOUxVXaYUrd6rf_V-n3K0dN_KPPl1-Jvuxa0uEgyeoYJJXjorkATvB6/s1600/DSC_0235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRN83rSACSG3cd5XEgTcBuevLkOhijz7DVXEXQdEaaqk5i4qLWYatXVJYNnsUKM6xt1pbku7x4mmWd44yZTJiqXOUxVXaYUrd6rf_V-n3K0dN_KPPl1-Jvuxa0uEgyeoYJJXjorkATvB6/s640/DSC_0235.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Remember that one time, when Carter turned 9, and we asked him what he wanted for a cake, and he said "Lemon pie"? And we kept asking him over and over, because he couldn't possibly want that. And then his party came, and he was ecstatic to see Lemon Pie. Remember that? Carter knows what he wants. He can tell us what he wants. When he tells us something, we believe him. </div>
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<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2017/06/our-nine-year-old-boy.html" target="_blank">Read more here.</a></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{7}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>MEMORIES</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuFCDRPHkMaTl7axc80oa6zFnrXCbv9DiLoH09teP2LGlVDbq1JaBfZKfZImjBAuq6kZ6AbWMR3wdhJF_4o5TaAgn59IyU235gh3T-hAP2abulBVKKkta36Z6f2TV9raaJN3iMtbnDBw0/s1600/DSC_0299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuFCDRPHkMaTl7axc80oa6zFnrXCbv9DiLoH09teP2LGlVDbq1JaBfZKfZImjBAuq6kZ6AbWMR3wdhJF_4o5TaAgn59IyU235gh3T-hAP2abulBVKKkta36Z6f2TV9raaJN3iMtbnDBw0/s640/DSC_0299.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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My Grampie, and my baby - at Carter's 9th Birthday. Just a few weeks after taking this photo, I learned some hard news, and the reality was that there was a chance this would be one of the last birthday parties my Grampie would attend. In an instant, this photo became ultra-special. Turns out, he's going to be around for a while. But this photo serves as a reminder to me of the fragility of life, and the power of our Right & Just God.</div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{8}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>PARTY OF FIVE</b></span></div>
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Our first photo as a family of five. A little crooked, a little wonky, but totally perfect. This is us.</div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{9}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>SUMMER VIBES</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHmdvnzhJVXSyUGWdPnvoXX-vnWYu8TVsqz2KHAJIMOScgcMBZ8tcSw-wrw4c9xt_P7HhVzccr_-BTSDbEesEzA21uWsc4j3c3CfKLew0nonZaN3uyhepHI5vGbfLySqSLpJYSv7-v491/s1600/DSC_0130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHmdvnzhJVXSyUGWdPnvoXX-vnWYu8TVsqz2KHAJIMOScgcMBZ8tcSw-wrw4c9xt_P7HhVzccr_-BTSDbEesEzA21uWsc4j3c3CfKLew0nonZaN3uyhepHI5vGbfLySqSLpJYSv7-v491/s640/DSC_0130.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This is our summer, in a nutshell. </div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{10}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>DADDY</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTF3GHZ_jXKQus-03SYjJjHASSNJTjYnUo2ehlkVuL7BgCNyQSskRA3c2LThjUiAz4d1zQdXni1DTpmYFH-tQx5OYE0qHq9S6MiArp1_GXTY9fbmjoHx5RDVMzOPQHwv568XLcoPGcuBm9/s1600/DSC_0092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTF3GHZ_jXKQus-03SYjJjHASSNJTjYnUo2ehlkVuL7BgCNyQSskRA3c2LThjUiAz4d1zQdXni1DTpmYFH-tQx5OYE0qHq9S6MiArp1_GXTY9fbmjoHx5RDVMzOPQHwv568XLcoPGcuBm9/s640/DSC_0092.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This girl and her daddy have something all their own. His 'mini-me', in more ways that one.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{11}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>GETTING THERE</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQROGFW9RP_OuPyCiiiGuQgUZEy4nkeeSnZc6_UA8e27yoQkM38ZLPu2IMqjbJ3ub28o_iIVjzKX76yvwwS3VQlIk8yCs28Gehwmr37NNbafdeO6zeiX1HylVsKkBByUNVYdZbmpnPZk_b/s1600/IMG_8138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQROGFW9RP_OuPyCiiiGuQgUZEy4nkeeSnZc6_UA8e27yoQkM38ZLPu2IMqjbJ3ub28o_iIVjzKX76yvwwS3VQlIk8yCs28Gehwmr37NNbafdeO6zeiX1HylVsKkBByUNVYdZbmpnPZk_b/s640/IMG_8138.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I'm just a mom, trying to figure out life with three kids. By mid-summer, we're getting there. Carter is either a tremendous help, or the one who needs the most help. There's no in-between - but when it's good, it's soooo good.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{12}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>SUCCESS</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomaD-3XVdTzzXZMKmIH3A8tgJxgI3HU3b4T-MmSbqOn7lwL6ZSoQCMZBwQVKxo-7zVC-NGdeV01MKn8y0e3XsFNFukTsS6407XvbysEsFoEpptgDqd6Yzqd5qQfBGpqLQNleQQp1vwr-q/s1600/IMG_0210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="683" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomaD-3XVdTzzXZMKmIH3A8tgJxgI3HU3b4T-MmSbqOn7lwL6ZSoQCMZBwQVKxo-7zVC-NGdeV01MKn8y0e3XsFNFukTsS6407XvbysEsFoEpptgDqd6Yzqd5qQfBGpqLQNleQQp1vwr-q/s640/IMG_0210.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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When it's good - it's sooooo good. How can we help him get to 'good'? How about making a permanent kiddie pool for him to play boats in? What if we add a filter with a little fountain? Success.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{13}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>GROWTH</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cHajOnLt6b1b3RvVPtbKdvPSAJRKNphMY1KtRYzqJlbtqPquJhT2rg6ZTmljjO3H514iI__DZR9tyRbRjjy9j1MqfbKKD0452Nb51vCFlqEPMShcNXQ2d8uvlk932juVqfgls5Xe6uoP/s1600/IMG_8556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cHajOnLt6b1b3RvVPtbKdvPSAJRKNphMY1KtRYzqJlbtqPquJhT2rg6ZTmljjO3H514iI__DZR9tyRbRjjy9j1MqfbKKD0452Nb51vCFlqEPMShcNXQ2d8uvlk932juVqfgls5Xe6uoP/s640/IMG_8556.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here we are, three-fifths of a family, being pushed and stretched in all directions. This baseball outing was one of the first outings with Carter after taking the gluten-free/dairy-free/egg-free/peanut-free/rice-free plunge. It's been an amazing journey of growth for all of us - but here we are, trying something hard <i>(restaurant food) </i>with our kiddo who wants nothing more than a dang bun and ice cream. But we helped him through it, and he was a champ. Here's to growth.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{14}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>BEST-ER FRIEND</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCR67p178p0klcnrw_rVLQd67z0oHroIA8JRKpSQSPOScsq3wNLst6QNX0kRSdhrXlCGbPNN5NFUHuNeXi1d7XXWpDC7ovb2pLssqSL9LSbb_ikFzzQ_KJVyG8HrNu8RgtJBblC9Clq60_/s1600/IMG_8061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCR67p178p0klcnrw_rVLQd67z0oHroIA8JRKpSQSPOScsq3wNLst6QNX0kRSdhrXlCGbPNN5NFUHuNeXi1d7XXWpDC7ovb2pLssqSL9LSbb_ikFzzQ_KJVyG8HrNu8RgtJBblC9Clq60_/s640/IMG_8061.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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"Mom, your my bester friend ever!". Yes, dear one. The feeling is mutual. Let's be bester friends forever and ever. We need each other.</div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{15}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>INDEPENDENCE</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50S4fKpMUs4xae1DBHHQrnqAiwst7aFYGb7iHrnVu9sLCd6dzi4AOiakyl1LvfetmjEd5wHMgpoeFPvCuiTOaZVxszDbSam4fBh3gn-8AG29AFIrK9dJdTnWGEDSLM3zJ4XRJY1n9sO5N/s1600/DSC_0020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50S4fKpMUs4xae1DBHHQrnqAiwst7aFYGb7iHrnVu9sLCd6dzi4AOiakyl1LvfetmjEd5wHMgpoeFPvCuiTOaZVxszDbSam4fBh3gn-8AG29AFIrK9dJdTnWGEDSLM3zJ4XRJY1n9sO5N/s640/DSC_0020.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Saint Germain, 2017 - a hard week for our nine year old who wants so badly to be independent like any other nine year old...but can't be trusted alone for more than a second. For a few minutes, he played in his room with his beloved 'pink baby' and as I watched to see what he would do, I saw a happy, tender, caring boy who rocked and kissed his baby so sweetly. Independence is growing, and we'll get there.</div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{16}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>MACY MOO</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoiSNawxYPlZACXqpcdgu4gkNNiCk4yPNcyKc0asJ1gHTFR10lw157_IzzSgPvT2TzAtOmEi9VXOkuB-g3oFUV-ATCwS18RigcccdogW8E8m_HTeUkXDLaMmq7PMWXRee_fKhMj5mawIa/s1600/DSC_0290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoiSNawxYPlZACXqpcdgu4gkNNiCk4yPNcyKc0asJ1gHTFR10lw157_IzzSgPvT2TzAtOmEi9VXOkuB-g3oFUV-ATCwS18RigcccdogW8E8m_HTeUkXDLaMmq7PMWXRee_fKhMj5mawIa/s640/DSC_0290.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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This is Macy, two years old and so confident. From head to toe, uniquely perfect.</div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{17}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>FREEEEEDOM</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0puxVt9OBRnnq4yk_kTuUsepMZEn8GT14JGjWGSTwdaEuEm7W7F1WySzx9Hq1mx4mTgcM58OttZct1jDxbaHzNccEMJik_aUmYVyQv7gxuxe84oQR6mPwr6PmVckK1iqgynjn9RNr1kY/s1600/IMG_8496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0puxVt9OBRnnq4yk_kTuUsepMZEn8GT14JGjWGSTwdaEuEm7W7F1WySzx9Hq1mx4mTgcM58OttZct1jDxbaHzNccEMJik_aUmYVyQv7gxuxe84oQR6mPwr6PmVckK1iqgynjn9RNr1kY/s640/IMG_8496.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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This is what it looks like to be understood and loved. Run free, sweet boy. Run right into the good things ahead.<br />
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<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2017/10/to-givers-carers-lovers-on-our-summer.html" target="_blank">Read more here.</a><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{18}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>SIBS</b></span></div>
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Tubbies in the sink after an evening of playing outside after dinner. Time, slow down. </div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{19}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>SWEET BABY BOY</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu4fV3gpTXz7OWuU7-TW2H3fvU0RpomVYnI_cCfwpfW01bKypEvXS4gc6aiQ9svEyhyphenhyphenPKryTNBPpNvZlvNF5ccMLBHhCrPXc5ccGJfIq_ZbX35ty_7Qz7IBrtlwFaKqGv6SQVArEb0nxiF/s1600/DSC_0629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu4fV3gpTXz7OWuU7-TW2H3fvU0RpomVYnI_cCfwpfW01bKypEvXS4gc6aiQ9svEyhyphenhyphenPKryTNBPpNvZlvNF5ccMLBHhCrPXc5ccGJfIq_ZbX35ty_7Qz7IBrtlwFaKqGv6SQVArEb0nxiF/s640/DSC_0629.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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As his personality develops, we see a sweet little boy underneath the perfect amount of rough-and-tumble. Sensitive, gentle, and kindhearted. This is Siley-J. Siley-Jaybird. Si-si. Casa <i>(Carter gave him this name...so we embrace it).</i> Sweet guy.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>{20}</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>FOCUS</b></span></div>
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In those days when life seemed blurry and out of focus, this guy helped me to reign it back in. Here he is, doing something he used to hate. He's enjoying it, he's interacting with Macy and I while he's doing it, he's focused and determined. It's hard to believe there were days I never thought we'd get here.<br />
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But here we are.<br />
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2017 is in the books. I had big intentions for sending out New Year cards <i>(instead of Christmas cards)</i>. I designed them excitedly...and then didn't follow through with actually having them printed and mailed out <i>(which, as it turns out, are pretty important steps in the card-sending process)</i>.<br />
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Soo...as long as you're here...<br />
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Here's to 2018. May it be one amazing year.<br />
Even if it's not.<br />
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<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-68740031388588586232017-12-27T15:54:00.000-06:002017-12-27T15:54:22.837-06:00Merry Christmas.Merry Christmas, from us to you.<br />
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Merry, merry, merry.<br />
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Merry, x3.<br />
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Our three little loves had a fantastic Christmas. They've got Grandparents and Great Grandparents coming out of their ears. So you can bet that we've got a mountain of toys in the middle of the living room that wasn't there a week ago.<br />
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A motorcycle ride-on thingy for Macyn. A big boy drill set for Carter. Paw Patrol stuff. Baby dolls. Race tracks <i>(Be careful of little girls who have long hair and like to play with race cars. I've heard sometimes hair can get caught in the wheel, only to be worked on for 40 minutes before deciding to destroy the car in order to avoid cutting out a chunk of hair. I've heard.) </i>Throw in some twinkling lights and christmas cookies and 'Jingle Bells' <i>(on repeat)</i> and that about sums up our Christmas season.<br />
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All good stuff.<br />
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But there's so much more. This was the Christmas of our dreams, maybe. Partly because the grandparents didn't <i>totally</i> outdo themselves. Partly because we were able to stay home and have family come to our house <i>(which is a huge win for Carter boy!).</i> Partly because Jake and I worked together as a team to set our kids up for success.<br />
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Mostly <i>that</i>.<br />
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What do our kids need? What can we do as parents <i>(who, ideally, should have our own selves together enough to put them first)</i> to help our kids succeed? What do our kids need to be their best selves? Can we give them <i>that</i>?<br />
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Macyn and Silas don't need much to be successful. They're very easy-going, happy, calm kiddos. Toss a few gifts at them and they'll be happy for hours.<br />
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But Carter needs more. And up until recently, we failed to recognize that. We'd drag him to long family gatherings and expect him to hold it together. That's just not something he's capable of right now, and we're okay with that. So the family adjusts, with gladness.<br />
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This little book was a project I worked on over the fall. It's a book about our family for Macy <i>(and eventually, Silas)</i>. The note on the inside reads: <i>"To Macy, Our family is unique in many special ways. This book is only the beginning of helping you to see the great value that our uniqueness brings! Go 'Team Gibson'!"</i><br />
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We're unique. Fantastically, so. And we embrace it.<br />
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Carter has become harder and harder to buy meaningful gifts for. This year the toy grill <i>(complete with burger & the fixin's)</i> was a hit, along with his real drill set and a big red truck like Brad's. The t-shirt below was possibly made for Carter <i>(although the joke is lost on him). </i><br />
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But we really wanted to find one more thing that would speak to him - saying "Hey, bud. We get you. We understand you. We think you're awesome." So Jake did some shopping. He's the thoughtful gift giver of the family, so it only made sense that he lead the way on this.<br />
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Eventually, he found what would seemingly be the perfect gift for our garbage-loving 9 year old. It was a small, residential size garbage can. Complete with clasping lid, handle for pulling, and of course - wheels. Unfortunately, it was out of stock in all the big-box stores around us and we were too close to Christmas to have anything shipped.<br />
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Bummer, dude. Maybe next year!<br />
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But then...Jake decided to contact the company that manufactures these little garbage cans. The brand is 'Toter' and they were a dream to talk to on the phone. Jake explained why we'd want one of these garbage cans - we've got a 9 year old with special needs who loves nothing more than taking out garbage, shaking the garbage bag, throwing garbage in the can, etc. After talking for a bit, Jake learned that they don't have an option to purchase an individual item <i>(and we weren't interested in purchasing a bulk set of garbage cans...sorry Carter!). </i><br />
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Bummer, dude. Maybe next year!<br />
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But then...Shelley from Toter called Jake back and asked if she could get our address. She was excited to share that her amazing management team agreed to do what they could to get us ONE garbage can, in time for Christmas. Perfect!<br />
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"How much do we owe you?"<br />
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"Merry Christmas."<br />
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"Merry Christmas to you, too. How can we get payment to you?"<br />
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"That won't be necessary. Merry Christmas."<br />
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Cheesy grin, proud stance, I imagine he's feeling so very known and understood. My people get me. They really get me!<br />
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Fantastically unique - we know not everyone has a green garbage can in their living room on Christmas morning. But here we are! Embracing it, this Christmas and beyond.<br />
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Thanks, Toter. You've reminded us that sometimes our life takes a little extra work, and sometimes it takes help from others, but it's so worth it on Christmas morning. You helped to make this boy's Christmas very special, indeed.<br />
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<b>One Thing I Know For Sure: </b>"GARBAAAAGE!!! Shake, shake bag!! Toys in garbage! Hahaha! Empty garbage!!! Pull garbage can!!", on repeat.Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-2104075148539248322017-10-24T12:06:00.000-05:002017-10-24T12:06:33.045-05:00"What Happened To You?" - A Stream of Thoughts.I was cleaning up some files on my laptop recently, and came across this photo.<br />
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This photo was sent to us by our facilitators in Ukraine, just weeks after we had initiated the process to adopt Carter <i>(April 2011)</i>. As a soon-to-be-mom, all I could think was how sweet his round face was, how sleepy and snuggly he looked, and how I couldn't wait to get him home.<br />
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October and November are typically rough months for us.<br />
We met Carter on October 7, 2011.<br />
We passed court in Kiev on October 24, 2011.<br />
We took him home to our apartment in Kiev on November 9, 2011.<br />
We arrived back in America on November 15, 2011.<br />
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Something dawned on me this past summer. Silas was about four months old, and I realized he was the same age that Carter was when his birth parents left him at the orphanage. At four months old, Silas was fully aware of his Mommy and Daddy. He was interacting with us, he looked for us, he loved laughing at his brother and sister, and he already was showing signs of 'stranger danger'.<br />
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I felt a lump rising in my throat when I realized that Macy, who is now two-and-a-half years old, is still a year younger than Carter was when we adopted him.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Lx4Bm4SLe2CXLQuAZ3w2RjI303_DsCvoRxNNL3d3603xSN-I87E9gF9gmMH9Kjz84Ag22kUiEG3SAVWeYmt4FpcU9gx6hgni1iLiqbhbFUMizMgXjAn3KUwALRaYmZ9DvztwXco_Kmpq/s1600/DSC_0706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Lx4Bm4SLe2CXLQuAZ3w2RjI303_DsCvoRxNNL3d3603xSN-I87E9gF9gmMH9Kjz84Ag22kUiEG3SAVWeYmt4FpcU9gx6hgni1iLiqbhbFUMizMgXjAn3KUwALRaYmZ9DvztwXco_Kmpq/s640/DSC_0706.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From one of our orphanage visits, October 2011</td></tr>
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Carter has been 'ours' for six years now. And I'm <i>just</i> starting to feel the pain for the three-and-a-half years he spent in an orphanage.<br />
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We often talk about Macy and Silas being little sponges, who just soak up everything around them - the information presented to them, the experiences they live each moment, the things they see and hear and feel. They soak it all up and it's up to us to help them sort it all out.<br />
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Carter was a little sponge, too. For three years, he soaked up everything around him. We're just now sorting it out.<br />
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When I was filling up my gas tank the other day, the air was cool and crisp and just a little damp. The truck that was idling next to me gave off some exhaust. The gas station attendant on his break had just lit a cig. And I was taken back to Ukraine. My heart used to long to go back.<br />
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I don't long for Ukraine anymore. I grieve for how Ukraine altered our journey.<br />
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I often wonder who Carter is without the layers of trauma. I often wonder how long I'll be grieving the loss of <i>that</i> Carter. I often wonder if I'll ever stop hoping that he'll wake up and be healthy and whole.<br />
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Recently, our county case worker and I were having a discussion about trauma. She mentioned that they've been having more frequent trainings about trauma, and even schools are recognizing the role trauma plays in the lives of so many kids. She said "One course changed my thinking from <i>'what's wrong with you?'</i> to <i>'what happened to you?</i>'"<br />
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What happened to you, sweet boy?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMFTHadnuOQCW7GeD-XypxoyjHlDSVV64fsnsKipGIoco07HKj7uifap7DAg6pU_JkJ_H28zPuAfN__TOVWR1PW_nOlTa24ufEWd7dF81L2t8xkcRX9q-ljqWwcjW2jF1FbrDjcK6rMXm/s1600/DSC_0541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMFTHadnuOQCW7GeD-XypxoyjHlDSVV64fsnsKipGIoco07HKj7uifap7DAg6pU_JkJ_H28zPuAfN__TOVWR1PW_nOlTa24ufEWd7dF81L2t8xkcRX9q-ljqWwcjW2jF1FbrDjcK6rMXm/s640/DSC_0541.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From one of our orphanage visits, November 2011</td></tr>
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From a blog I posted after a week or so of meeting Carter:<br />
<i>"Do we love him? Yes. Undoubtedly, yes. Not because he fits our expectations - but because we have chosen to love him, DESPITE our expectations. We know there will be difficult, awkward days ahead. That's okay. Love is a choice, we believe. It's not an emotion or a feeling. No - it's an ACT. And we'll choose to love him - hard or easy, fast or slow, up or down."</i><br />
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This is our story. Choosing to love a boy who had so much happen to him.<br />
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++++++++<br />
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Carter brings an incredible value to our family, and we are thankful every day for how he's impacted our lives.<br />
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<br />
<br />
The thoughts that I share in this post are me, being vulnerable and genuine.<br />
<br />
We used to excitedly celebrate all the Adoption Dates in October & November. We don't really celebrate those dates, anymore. Now we just celebrate Carter, and the growth that he's worked so damn hard for.<br />
<br />
<b>One Thing I Know For Sure: </b>Loving him, more every day.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-45888965548758735552017-10-06T11:34:00.003-05:002017-10-06T11:34:32.588-05:00To the Givers, the Carers, the Lovers (on Our Summer of Freedom, and Third Grade)One photo is all this post needs.<br />
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<br />
This was our summer, in a nutshell.<br />
<br />
I've been learning that for our family to function at it's best, we need help.<br />
<br />
In the past, I've fallen into the trap of comparing our family to other families.<br />
"<i>They</i> don't need people to help them at church..."<br />
"<i>They</i> don't need to keep the bathroom door and the baby's room door closed at all times..."<br />
"<i>They</i> don't need grandma to take two-thirds of their kids for a day so they can have a break..."<br />
"<i>They</i> don't need baby gates to block off the kitchen..."<br />
"<i>They</i> don't need to divide the kids up to two separate houses in order to get a date night..."<br />
"<i>They</i> don't need to keep their bedroom door locked..."<br />
<br />
But no. <b>We aren't like other families</b>. We need lots of help. From lots of people. Without help, we can get by. We can struggle through. We can survive.<br />
<br />
We don't want to just survive, so we ask for help.<br />
<br />
We've had very little help in the way of respite - and this summer, we decided to dive in and try it out. Because - I'm just going to be frank - life with Carter is special and wonderful, but damn hard.<br />
<br />
Carter is a little light in our house - bright and refreshing. But sometimes we just want to turn the light out for a little while and give our eyes a rest.<br />
<br />
As I prepared for summer - I couldn't imagine an entire summer with this bright light shining in my eyeballs, 24/7. Add in two other little<i> (less-bright, less-intense) </i>lights, and I knew we needed more help.<br />
<br />
So this summer, Angell came for 4 to 6 hours per day, on 3 to 4 days per week. Carter had respite.<br />
<br />
We all had respite.<br />
<br />
Our goal for respite was for Carter to have meaningful fun. When we developed this goal in the spring, I was still hesitant and not sure how Carter would fill his time. All I could think of was therapy <i>(which has been over for almost a year)</i> and I didn't want his summer to look like therapy at all.<br />
<br />
Looking back, this was the summer of our dreams. Carter went on amazing adventures with someone who truly understands him, and leads him, and loves him. He did things that were fun an exciting for him. He played, a lot. He swam, a lot. Freedom.<br />
<br />
And guess what? Carter learned. Carter grew.<br />
<br />
And so did I.<br />
<br />
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<br />
This is our vision for Carter's future. Meaningful fun. Bringing the joy. Connections and relationships with those who understand him and want him to be successful.<br />
<br />
Freedom!<br />
<br />
This summer helped me realize that Carter CAN be passed off to other qualified adults to go on excursions. Carter CAN go to speech, occupational therapy, a restaurant, the park, the pool, EAA with someone else and have an amazing time.<br />
<br />
Just, basically, Carter CAN.<br />
<br />
And guess what else? Carter came home from each outing feeling special and adored. And when he came home, I had more energy to pour into him. This is what respite did for us.<br />
<br />
Respite may have saved me from myself.<br />
<br />
Our summer of freedom.<br />
<br />
Thanks, Angell.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
There's more!<br />
<br />
Throughout the summer, other people put their arms around us and said "Me! Pick me! I want to help! How can we share in your burden?".<br />
<br />
Some took Carter for an entire day, so I could focus on Macy and Silas.<br />
Some took Macy and Silas for the day so I could focus on other things.<br />
Some came here to watch Macy and Silas so I could run errands.<br />
Some washed windows - put away dishes - washed floors - watered flowers.<br />
Some folded laundry while they sat at our table during lunch.<br />
Some helped us understand Carter's new food sensitivities <i>(long story!) </i>and helped us develop a plan.<br />
Some offered to grab groceries for us.<br />
So many brought fun and joy into our lives, during what could have been a very trying season.<br />
<br />
Really, this is what happened when I learned to ask for more help.<br />
<br />
We could probably do this without you all, but we don't want to.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
Summer is gone, and we're one month into school. There are big changes for Carter this year, and he's handling them like a champ<i> (well, duh)</i>. He's with some new people who are genuinely working to understand him and who he is as a person. He's somebody worth figuring out, and they recognize that.<br />
<br />
I guess this is a good place to end.<br />
<br />
Being understood & felt. What more is there to say?<br />
<br />
<b>One Thing I Know For Sure:</b> To the Givers, the Carers, the Lovers - we need you!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-92113731451469146852017-08-21T16:00:00.000-05:002017-08-30T16:01:08.525-05:00St. Germain 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our seventh annual Gibson Getaway has come and gone. I'm here for the recap. Which looks eerily similar to the recap from last year, and the year before, and the year before. The kids are bigger<i> (and there are more of them)</i>, but the views are basically the same.<br />
<br />
Big boy, in the water as often as possible.<br />
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Big girl, in the water as often as possible.<br />
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Mom sneaking kisses, as often as possible.<br />
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<br />
Cuteness overload, times three this year.<br />
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<br />
Oh, and everyone else. Right. There were other people on <i>'Macy and Carter's Vacation'</i>, too.<br />
<br />
Hi, Ben.<br />
Hi, Poppy.<br />
Hi, Tom & Marn.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Hi, Mimi.<br />
<br />
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<br />
"I'm not c-c-c-cold!"<br />
"I wanna go deeper, Daddy!"<br />
"Wanna swim? Ya?"<br />
"Moooorrre!"<br />
<br />
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<br />
We did more than swim, though.<br />
<br />
Kayaking, flea marketing <i>(chicken gyros!)</i>, stroller walking, campfiring, fishing <i>(Carter says 'Awesome!')</i>, play-dohing, bubbles-ing, snacking.<br />
<br />
Basically, summering.<br />
<br />
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<br />
St. Germain = squeezing out the last juicy bits of summer.<br />
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In the Northwoods, mid-August actually feels a little autumn-like. Chilly mornings and crisp evenings, with a chunk of mid-day that is perfect for the beach.<br />
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Or, at least <i>good-enough</i> for the beach.<br />
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When you've got your Ana & Elsa swim suit and butterfly sunglasses, 'good-enough' is good enough.<br />
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There was some down time, too.<br />
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Keeping Carter happy and busy was a little tricky this year, and it left Jake and I feeling very un-vacationed by the second or third day of our trip. But there were good bits, too.<br />
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And then there's always Cathy's for ice cream.<br />
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Walking up the long trail from the dock is probably something Carter will always remember. He knows the trail well, and knows exactly what waits for him at the end :)<br />
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Get ice cream<i> (or, lemon ice in our case)</i>. Sit down. Spoon in. Pinky up. Devour.<br />
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Some people even take their family photo at Cathy's. Or so I've heard.<br />
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Bye, St. Germain! See you next year - new house, new lake, new possibilities!<br />
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And if we do it right, we'll be a new family as we spend this year growing and changing.<br />
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Now that's something to raise a pinky to.<br />
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<b>One Thing I Know For Sure: </b><i>On St. Germain Time.</i> Get it? That's okay, half of the people pictured didn't get it, either :)Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-46277559440808155542017-06-13T12:57:00.000-05:002017-06-13T12:57:29.058-05:00Our Nine Year Old Boy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Carter is nine years old <i>(that's one birthday away from ten). </i></div>
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Boats, airplanes, and garbage trucks won out this year <i>(and last year, and the year before that, and the year before that...anyone looking for some well loved trucks? I've got a stash.)</i></div>
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Carter asked for trucks this year, and lemon meringue pie. We kept double checking with him as the party approached.<br />
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"Carter, are you sure you want yellow pie?"<br />
"YESSS!!!"<br />
"Carter, do you want yellow lemon pie, or chocolate cake?"<br />
"Lella piiieee!!!!"<br />
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Yes, he ate it. Yes, he liked it. Yes, he knew what he was asking for.<br />
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Sometimes this boy has us scratching our heads. Year Eight had us doing tons of head scratching, and readjusting, and trying this, and deleting that, and, and, and...<br />
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Year Nine, we welcome you.<br />
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We've learned to adjust and go with the flow. We've learned how to see a rough patch coming, and prepare for it. But that doesn't mean it's easy or fun.<br />
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<i>{Macy has learned things too - like how to sit back and relax while brother picks his favorites off her plate. I try to tell myself that this is good for her, long-term. Because, justice.}</i><br />
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So we try to stay ten steps ahead, without running ahead too far. We try to keep the family balanced and happy. We try to buy the nine year old baby dolls so that Macy's dolls can stay out of the pool.<br />
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We try and try and try.<br />
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And then we realize that the trying is too much, and we sit back and let life happen.<br />
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Everyone relaxes a bit. The floors get dirty. The laundry piles up. The grass gets long<i>(ish). </i><br />
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Then wine is enjoyed on the patio - family and friends run through the backyard with squirt guns in hand - last minute play dates at the pool have us splashing until bedtime.<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;"><strike>#summergoals</strike></span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">#lifegoals</span><br />
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So, to our Big Boy on his 9th year of life. This could be your best year yet. Or maybe it will be your worst. I'm just being real.<br />
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Whatever the year ahead brings - we're doing it together. Step by step, feeling you out, learning you more each day, asking God for help to understand you best. You're a complex little boy, and we'll spend every day learning how to love you.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiU6VyqHPahKNMEaqdk4-uNNd9z0UowYPd3GGZAzhYrF8zct-UOaiYJLK7wpOXW9HSUc4yWIv9Zdlj8mUHV-oHTjnDEc48cjmZHKRTn7HUBa6rmbkxHTr39Ibaglq1O5FOqxpmSM35MPZ7/s1600/DSC_0433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiU6VyqHPahKNMEaqdk4-uNNd9z0UowYPd3GGZAzhYrF8zct-UOaiYJLK7wpOXW9HSUc4yWIv9Zdlj8mUHV-oHTjnDEc48cjmZHKRTn7HUBa6rmbkxHTr39Ibaglq1O5FOqxpmSM35MPZ7/s640/DSC_0433.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
First photo as a family of five - and I can't think of a better big brother for Macy and Silas. You're teaching us how to be better parents, and for that, Macy and Silas owe you.<br />
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<div>
As Macyn would say - "Carter B! Buddy! Brudder Bear! I wuz you!". Here's to year nine. Let's tackle it together<i> (trucks in hand).</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>One Thing I Know For Sure: </b>We owe you!</div>
Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-32523614230413446302017-03-23T22:29:00.001-05:002017-03-23T22:29:21.586-05:00Delivered.Tomorrow we will take our Siley J to his 2 week doctors appointment. While we're there, we will pop in to visit all the people who helped us get to where we are today.<br />
<br />
This is our Thank You.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
I still remember the first conversation that started this crazy journey. My friend, Juli, was over for coffee and she asked when we would start having babies. After all, Carter had been home 3 years and she knew we wanted more kiddos.<br />
<br />
I told her we'd been trying for almost 2 years, and I was starting to think we'd just adopt a baby.<br />
<br />
A baby. <br />
<br />
Adopting Carter at 3 years old was good. We wouldn't change anything about how our 'first born' came to us. But for as long as I can remember, I've longed to have a baby. <br />
<br />
Juli mentioned 'the midwives', and I called to make an appointment the next day.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
My first appointment was with Brenna. I was nervous, because - what if she confirms the worst - that we won't be having any babies?<br />
<br />
She created a safe place in that room - and I instantly felt like I was chatting with an old friend. She asked me some questions, ran some tests, and put me on a teeny, tiny dose of levothyroxine <i>(for my thyroid). </i><br />
<br />
As she was leaving the exam room, she turned back around, peeked in the door, & chirped "Girl - we're gonna get you pregnant!".<br />
<br />
Hope. Maybe this could actually happen.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvdofc002oEow2a7FA5EGSzMRg6TdcF4eyGHGeGT61zdBABuF9wmOVLcu09D7QnbAclzXpelEqqSjQxFpgizXBVxu4mfv93q_7784geB0235idnrSp0dP29kRIBOlVOml6AaOxyNWpsBy/s1600/DSC_0064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvdofc002oEow2a7FA5EGSzMRg6TdcF4eyGHGeGT61zdBABuF9wmOVLcu09D7QnbAclzXpelEqqSjQxFpgizXBVxu4mfv93q_7784geB0235idnrSp0dP29kRIBOlVOml6AaOxyNWpsBy/s320/DSC_0064.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our soon-to-be Big Brother, with Macy's ultrasound pictures</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Three weeks later, I was pregnant.<br />
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<br /></div>
++++++++<br />
<br />
My head was in the clouds for most of Macy's pregnancy. I had some weird pregnancy symptoms, but my excitement that we were actually pregnant overshadowed all of the jaw pain and hip pain and gum pain <i>(pregnancy gingivitis is a real thing, apparently)</i>.<br />
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<br />
Her due date came - and my 'old friend' Brenna was on call. Through 16 hours of labor, she was in & out of our room - affirming me, making small talk, and offering Jake some support, too.<br />
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Ninety minutes of pushing - and I needed Jake & Brenna for every single second of it. I was full of doubt that I could actually do this. They told me I could.<br />
<br />
They were right - I did it. We did it.<br />
<br />
The second Macyn was born, Brenna said "She looks just like Jake!". No truer words have ever been spoken :)<br />
<br />
Five minutes after she was born, I told Jake that I couldn't wait to do that again. I was serious. I felt amazing. I had always questioned if I could actually deliver a baby without an epidural. It seemed like something <i>other</i> women could do - but was I really strong enough?<br />
<br />
I was. We were. It was a team effort.<br />
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<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
Fifteen months later, Jake and I decide to start trying for the next baby - fully expecting it to take us 'a while'.<br />
<br />
It didn't. Within a few days, we were pregnant.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7E7SnNnWhdy-jDcj8AYApqWufxwUUWkbbta83ItBiuIf288u553qhqNvifNQj2i9yC7MxDto6lH_MmwxUINsciJYu8lxHH3jdaIz_0lpqfl-tkxsqaZ3uMixT0aPKvjfaiDyBaGAARROb/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-03-23+at+9.53.43+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7E7SnNnWhdy-jDcj8AYApqWufxwUUWkbbta83ItBiuIf288u553qhqNvifNQj2i9yC7MxDto6lH_MmwxUINsciJYu8lxHH3jdaIz_0lpqfl-tkxsqaZ3uMixT0aPKvjfaiDyBaGAARROb/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-03-23+at+9.53.43+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
This pregnancy was easier than Macy's, even. I didn't have all the weird pregnancy symptoms, and I was busy. Mom to a toddler and a second grader, plus a gamut of other things on my plate...this pregnancy was over in a blink.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YJKLpI7_zkQUHOm1QB0HRT2bSJxeK2WU9UN1Bcif2EpSQSXH3NSXCT2w6AvVBR3SksgxJqiVZX83sb5WChenZywISsEzkqqXudk6IB_6qj4lBEHTylxwvoAkeZnb4OT0QaAsO4-WAe8J/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-03-23+at+9.52.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YJKLpI7_zkQUHOm1QB0HRT2bSJxeK2WU9UN1Bcif2EpSQSXH3NSXCT2w6AvVBR3SksgxJqiVZX83sb5WChenZywISsEzkqqXudk6IB_6qj4lBEHTylxwvoAkeZnb4OT0QaAsO4-WAe8J/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-03-23+at+9.52.09+PM.png" width="602" /></a></div>
<br />
Heading to the hospital late at night, feeling so ready to meet our baby boy - wondering how our lives were about to change.<br />
<br />
Loree was on call - and I saw her for just a few minutes during my 5 hours of labor. When it came time to push, she came in and said "You're the expert - just do it!".<br />
<br />
I did it. Two big pushes and our sweet boy was in my arms.<br />
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</div>
<br />
We did it.<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
As I type this, all three of our kids are soundly sleeping in their beds. Each one, a gift. Each one, unique. Each one, cherished.<br />
<br />
Without Hope, none of them would be here.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs71W-NpUK6mV-iQpCsAlAE2B7TMeF-oncxup3udu3BxXq5AKwoGqtgV2HygLn1Sp8Zj0SNI7D43i9clzcsA0qArnXD3sK0P1h8HhE69HOojDFw6ukhbjYfM-iq3oME0waB9cEy1i7ZQfS/s1600/DSC_0035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs71W-NpUK6mV-iQpCsAlAE2B7TMeF-oncxup3udu3BxXq5AKwoGqtgV2HygLn1Sp8Zj0SNI7D43i9clzcsA0qArnXD3sK0P1h8HhE69HOojDFw6ukhbjYfM-iq3oME0waB9cEy1i7ZQfS/s320/DSC_0035.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone delivered this baby of ours, too. Midwife - Doctor - whoever you are, we're grateful for you, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
To The Midwives, Nurses, Ultrasound Techs, and Receptionists <i>(yes, even you!)</i> -<br />
The work you do is important. You don't just see patients, or check them in, or do exams, or run vitals, or perform ultrasounds, or deliver babies. For me, and for our family, you offered just the right amount of Hope.<br />
<br />
Brenna & Loree - I don't think I'll ever forget the value you both gave me in Room 310 <i>(where both our babies were born)</i>, almost exactly 2 years apart. You both gave me just what I needed. With Macy, I needed the moment-by-moment care and constant affirmation. With Silas, I just needed someone to show up and tell me to do it.<br />
<br />
Our little family is complete <i>(I think)</i>. Our days of 'having babies' are over - and now we are in the season of 'raising babies'. This is the season I've always looked forward to.<br />
<br />
But without Hope, there would be no 'raising babies' season. The work you do is important.<br />
<br />
We owe you!<br />
<br />
++++++++<br />
<br />
<b>One Thing I Know For Sure:</b> Forever Grateful!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-74885300888005370742017-03-19T14:18:00.001-05:002017-03-19T14:18:28.204-05:00Silas Jacob is Here.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Welcome to the world, Silas Jacob. You are twelve days old today, and it seems like I've known you forever. </div>
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This is how your story begins.</div>
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You happened quickly - we were pregnant with you within days of deciding that we wanted another baby. The emotions were intense. </div>
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We're pregnant! </div>
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<i>Wait, we're pregnant? </i></div>
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Yes! We're pregnant! </div>
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<i>Already? </i></div>
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Already!</div>
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Due two days before Macy's second birthday. When I dreamt about being a mom <i>(it's all I ever wanted)</i> I dreamt about my kids being exactly two years apart.</div>
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We found out you were a boy on a Thursday afternoon. Brenna, the midwife, called with the test results. We were all in our bedroom - Carter and Macy laying on the bed, Dad just getting home from work, and me - putting the call on speaker so everyone could hear. And you. <i>You were there, too.</i></div>
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"Are you ready? Are you sitting down? It's a......BOY!!!"</div>
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Celebration and cheering ensued. Dad cried a little, I think. </div>
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I did, too. When I dreamt about being a mom, I dreamt about having two boys and a girl. </div>
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The next several months were filled with snuggling a one year old, buying a minivan, packing school lunches, a growing belly, finishing our basement, reading books in laps, gestational diabetes <i>(bummer - but really not so bad!)</i>, countless loads of laundry - countless family meals - countless walks to the lake - countless bedtime stories. </div>
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But you already know all of this, because you were there.</div>
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The day before your due date, I felt amazing. I had more energy than I did in weeks. Both Carter and Macy were more needy and clingy than ever, that evening. I wondered if something was about to happen.</div>
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Daddy and I went to bed - I was sleeping soundly by 9 - he fell asleep around 10.</div>
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At 10:20pm, my water broke. </div>
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At 11:20pm, we were at the hospital.</div>
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At 12:20am, I started my first round of antibiotics <i>(because I was GBS+)</i>. I was 5 cm dilated.</div>
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At 1:00am, the contractions were becoming too intense, and I asked for a little nubain <i>(which allows for rest between contractions, and takes the edge off a bit). </i></div>
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At 3:20am, I thought the nubain must have been wearing off because everything was so intense again. The nurse checked me...and told me I was only at 6 or 7 cm dilated. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. They gave me a little more nubain.</div>
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At 3:40, I told the nurse I felt a little 'pushy'. "NO! It's too early." The midwife, Loree, was called in, I think. And by the time she was at the door, I was pushing. She walked in and said "Ashley, you're the expert. Your body knows what to do. Do it."</div>
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At 3:50, you took your very first breath. Dad and I fell in love. The world is forever changed.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivDFDaMhfOOErDIMgzhAQFFBOXEQKCoQWug1iN_CCbEzr4qrSrsc4OZPYbBvLJjD6XeDs3DJqxYUVf4jc-vcipgC9Lov-kjh99xLC7e7I6eA6pkfOyEgMkKFAFauDUP5aHolAESQBVIre3/s1600/IMG_7642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivDFDaMhfOOErDIMgzhAQFFBOXEQKCoQWug1iN_CCbEzr4qrSrsc4OZPYbBvLJjD6XeDs3DJqxYUVf4jc-vcipgC9Lov-kjh99xLC7e7I6eA6pkfOyEgMkKFAFauDUP5aHolAESQBVIre3/s640/IMG_7642.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
Silas Jacob - 7lbs 2oz - 18.5 inches long. Born on your due date, just like your sister. Five intense hours of labor, two intense pushes, and here you were - big dark eyes looking into mine.<br />
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<br />
Suddenly, the last 9 months are all a blur. How did we get here? Three precious kids - a daughter and two sons.<br />
<br />
This is our life.<br />
<br />
++++++++++<br />
<br />
Later that afternoon, we had some really special visitors.<br />
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For fun, you can go back and look at <a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2015/03/macys-story.html" target="_blank">Macy's birth story</a> - you'll see the same giraffe. And the same big brother. He'll always be there, looking over you <i>(even when it doesn't seem like it)</i>.<br />
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Some people won't understand him <i>(or his giraffe) </i>- and that's okay. We understand him - and he'll understand you, more than you know. You're brothers, and brothers are special.<br />
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Oh, and sisters. Sisters are special, too. Just in a different way. YOUR sister adored you from the minute she looked at you. She had a nickname for you after 2 minutes of knowing you.<br />
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"Hi, Tiny!"<br />
"Hold Tiny?"<br />
"Bottle, Tiny?"<br />
"Snuggle Tiny!"<br />
"Come here, Tiny!"<br />
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I can't help but think you're the luckiest baby ever.<br />
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++++++++<br />
<br />
We came home on a Thursday. We said goodbye to NaNa, who was here with Macy, and put Macy down for her nap.<br />
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And then we looked at each other. We have three kids. Each one of them perfectly unique.<br />
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I can't promise we'll always get it right. I can't even promise we'll <i>mostly</i> get it right.<br />
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I <i>can</i> promise that we'll ask for grace every single day. We need God's Wisdom in how to best love you, uniquely.<br />
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But, you know all about that, too.<br />
Grace - Wisdom - Love - Uniqueness...all very familiar principles for your fresh little brain.<br />
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Siley J - this is the beginning of your story. It started with great intensity - where will it go from here? <br />
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You get to decide, sweet boy. You hold the pen. We'll help to strengthen and guide your hand as you eventually pick it up and write - but this story is all yours.<br />
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We owe you, Silas. We'll spend every day loving you the best we can.<br />
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<b>One Thing I Know For Sure:</b> We can't wait to discover who you are.Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-27776647840155901832017-03-09T02:18:00.000-06:002017-03-09T02:18:15.926-06:00Macy is Two.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Macy,<br />
Today, you are two years old. You'll ask for help today to hold up two fingers, because it's trickier than it looks. You'll sing 'happy bo-day' as you eat your green yogurt and strawberries. And this mama's heart will sing right along with you.<br />
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Two years old is special.<br />
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I remember finding out I was pregnant with you, and I secretly hoped we would have a girl.<br />
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A girl, with spunk. Maybe some sass.<br />
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And if we could have a girl with spunk and sass, but also a kind heart and a sunny disposition...well, I didn't hope for that. Because that seemed to be asking too much.<br />
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But, somehow...that's exactly what we got. A girl with sass and spunk and sunshine oozing out of every square inch. Our joy-girl, spilling love into every day. You are so much more than we ever asked for.<br />
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Soon to be our 'middle child', Daddy and I talked about you the other night.<br />
Will she ever forgive us for turning her world upside down?<br />
Will she get lost in the shuffle?<br />
What if our extra-special relationship changes?<br />
What if she loses some of her sparkle?<br />
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Macyn Joy, you can be the little Woman between two little Men. We'll help you, and teach you, and show you. We'll cherish you and nourish you. And then cherish you again. We'll use the tools we have to grow you up into everything God has created you to be.<br />
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So, between the chocolate milk in coffee mugs, and time on your 'ipap', and playing with brother's garbage trucks while he's at school, and begging to 'pway mama dowwy houth'...there will be Grace.<br />
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Grace that grows us and stretches us and changes us.<br />
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Two years old is a beautiful thing. So much wonder and excitement.<br />
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The other day, we were all playing outside in the driveway. Daddy opened up a lawn chair. A lawn chair! Something I've seen at least 700 times in my life. But you had never seen a lawn chair be opened before. You looked at the chair - and you looked at Daddy. And you said "Daddy! OH WOW!". Your genuineness stopped me.<br />
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You stared at that chair in amazement - and had a brand new reason to adore your Daddy.<br />
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I've spent time this week wishing you could stay little. The snuggles are nice, but it's not about that.<br />
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I wish you could stay little, so you never lose your wide-eyed wonder. I wish Two-Years-Old would never end, so that the genuine - vibrant - confident girl would never disappear.<br />
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And then I remember, this is Grace. The wide-eyed wonder - the genuineness - the confidence - even the sass and spunk. </div>
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It's all attainable for a Woman flowing in Grace. This is good news, dear one.</div>
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Last year, when you turned one, I said that I can't wait to see who you ARE. Not who you're going to be, because you already are somebody.</div>
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This year, as you turn two, I've <i>seen</i> who you are...and I like it so much. </div>
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Two years old, genuine and confident. </div>
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This time next year, you will be less 'toddler' and more 'little girl'. And I'm okay with that. Growth is good - and we're all growing together. </div>
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We love you 'tho mush'. May you always know it to be true.</div>
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<b>One Thing I Know For Sure:</b> Two years old, and so very special.</div>
<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-71286330460189128952017-01-10T10:50:00.000-06:002017-02-09T10:50:39.604-06:00Top 10-ish Photos of 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Yes, things are getting lazy around here. In 2015, I did a 'Top 15' post. In 2014, I did a 'Top 14' post.</div>
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It's 2016 we're talking about, and a 'Top 16' just seems like too much. </div>
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So we're back at 'Top 10'. Well, 10-ish. </div>
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It's my blog. I can do what I want.</div>
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In chronological order, here are my favorite photos of 2016. </div>
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The photos that make my heart say 'awwww...' :) These are the photos that someday, I'll peruse while my kids are away at college, and I'll wonder where the time/pudgy arms/cheesy grin/wispy hair went. </div>
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<b>{ONE}</b></div>
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Sweet baby girl, first time in the water while on our family vacation in Florida. No fear, just all in. The cold temps didn't stop her from having the time of her life. This is typical-Macy.</div>
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<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2016/01/vacay-goodness.html" target="_blank">READ MORE HERE :)</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4QyBHd29Zcsq8L0cuG94skvqVkFKenpi16VSk5der71ELZfRWupmZtqLePmWoEuWoCvEoaGSg8j2xpzf1wcu0Q2WljEU-DcY8iKZQ1GS9ZlFwrmqhw5wnbieYYC4w3c9P_DEfY1jMUqwF/s1600/DSC_0394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4QyBHd29Zcsq8L0cuG94skvqVkFKenpi16VSk5der71ELZfRWupmZtqLePmWoEuWoCvEoaGSg8j2xpzf1wcu0Q2WljEU-DcY8iKZQ1GS9ZlFwrmqhw5wnbieYYC4w3c9P_DEfY1jMUqwF/s640/DSC_0394.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{TWO}</b><br />
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A little crawling sister, who always looked to investigate all the fun stuff in her big brother's room. The smile, the tongue...the sweetness is almost too much. Pure sunshine, gazing right back at me every single day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZdRFEKnLFJSFL7WLR_7HCrXwIJc-2rtZUJ5tIX2by4eNBwCFhEmfOFpE1IBN8Ua62Us7-m_bp0N3IVtIv_lTJpjplhHJgDLzPqydrL-FNQfg78yftVPSse0s62Wle-PE4flcIcDJJYTsg/s1600/DSC_0647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZdRFEKnLFJSFL7WLR_7HCrXwIJc-2rtZUJ5tIX2by4eNBwCFhEmfOFpE1IBN8Ua62Us7-m_bp0N3IVtIv_lTJpjplhHJgDLzPqydrL-FNQfg78yftVPSse0s62Wle-PE4flcIcDJJYTsg/s640/DSC_0647.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{THREE}</b><br />
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This is what growing independence looks like. This was a year of changes for Carter, and he handled most of them well. We had been pushing him more in all areas of independence - and tooth brushing was one area he really seemed to pride himself in. Way to go, buddy. You can do just about anything you set your mind to.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZRtyAGbFxZ_XDQ2IkO7HnYc_HVHn1KiuI-EYkWZHx939igipL8a2_Ni4B4ymPFOM6TtHYotm6xRnLks65Zu7ReS6z6oB1xpF9OYM0aOckwxqeo1RyMfpliX7PYh8f4wR0wi-PPpplOV1/s1600/DSC_0547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZRtyAGbFxZ_XDQ2IkO7HnYc_HVHn1KiuI-EYkWZHx939igipL8a2_Ni4B4ymPFOM6TtHYotm6xRnLks65Zu7ReS6z6oB1xpF9OYM0aOckwxqeo1RyMfpliX7PYh8f4wR0wi-PPpplOV1/s640/DSC_0547.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{FOUR}</b><br />
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Possibly my first-ever picture of anyone other than our kids :) Our vacation to St. Maarten was a great way to recharge and refresh - and connect with two dear friends.<br />
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<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2016/06/our-little-vacay.html" target="_blank">READ MORE HERE :)</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_Efyw46ORFfUW6zgA6wz7yUgmNmfm5WqMHmDl2mXp1YKLNOZNcqrFRj-nRbXEes1iq638Et-oIA4ZQMLseoPiXe7VWDD5L3hyphenhyphen-xQb3kaMBo9vNxG2MAq1V-i-st6auf94Dx_Ok2kJ41T/s1600/DSC_0158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_Efyw46ORFfUW6zgA6wz7yUgmNmfm5WqMHmDl2mXp1YKLNOZNcqrFRj-nRbXEes1iq638Et-oIA4ZQMLseoPiXe7VWDD5L3hyphenhyphen-xQb3kaMBo9vNxG2MAq1V-i-st6auf94Dx_Ok2kJ41T/s640/DSC_0158.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{FIVE}</b><br />
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Eight years old and couldn't be happier. This grin is the real-deal. How did we get so lucky?<br />
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<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2016/06/hello-8-goodbye-first-grade.html" target="_blank">READ MORE HERE :)</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6N372EJw7rulWRi4TKwYvdcWBsTD6sSgTWn2wfBAShIhzl92nKsjlYlrX-3Hoz8RSvu_ljMEq6mp-vJwTIFdhU_ioW5cLUmpq2g22s2KU4VB-I68TIUfcPidZOofqtzAizs0tKU7dMFH/s1600/DSC_0049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6N372EJw7rulWRi4TKwYvdcWBsTD6sSgTWn2wfBAShIhzl92nKsjlYlrX-3Hoz8RSvu_ljMEq6mp-vJwTIFdhU_ioW5cLUmpq2g22s2KU4VB-I68TIUfcPidZOofqtzAizs0tKU7dMFH/s640/DSC_0049.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{SIX}</b><br />
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With summer comes bare feet and squinty eyes, and life happens on the back patio. This little lady enjoyed really exploring outside for the first time this summer, and she showed us that she is an exciting mix of 'little lady' and 'tom boy'.<br />
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<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2016/07/summer-day.html" target="_blank">READ MORE HERE :)</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhw4sakC1uP8rFim90w026HtSKEPHLDaaICJaPc71o81yC6s2mxPFFCUyZYtA0QbOFU7t8qoSXsltSGsmIRFZiAnFM31dkI-C4vTV7Fxgv4YHFCdk9ZL5vNo3k9OCWiizqITJxRoWmkUqu/s1600/DSC_0582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhw4sakC1uP8rFim90w026HtSKEPHLDaaICJaPc71o81yC6s2mxPFFCUyZYtA0QbOFU7t8qoSXsltSGsmIRFZiAnFM31dkI-C4vTV7Fxgv4YHFCdk9ZL5vNo3k9OCWiizqITJxRoWmkUqu/s640/DSC_0582.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{SEVEN}</b><br />
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Jammies and bubbles - almost a daily occurrence in the summer. Those lips don't lie - dude is an experienced bubble blower.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZxTUBy3sZ9Z4xSkIB1j1PtS8ozeBNEZfoKaGpxCExrOLG_LyxmtDfssqBvUZwQXGDnxSxw3rpLD-6ZX7-gs3hLtNRSSP8_CHrnVD-mw3PPGX0Rd3Mf3m8uD1MT9iDYfsogyIBwzuCdJ4/s1600/DSC_0466.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZxTUBy3sZ9Z4xSkIB1j1PtS8ozeBNEZfoKaGpxCExrOLG_LyxmtDfssqBvUZwQXGDnxSxw3rpLD-6ZX7-gs3hLtNRSSP8_CHrnVD-mw3PPGX0Rd3Mf3m8uD1MT9iDYfsogyIBwzuCdJ4/s640/DSC_0466.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{EIGHT}</b><br />
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Sometimes the best photos are taken on a phone, on a whim. Sneaking a kiss from a busy one year old is hard to do, and deserves to be documented.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfutryqVKTCFArRgSvDqpLXNHnZGlDE41xv0VYjfLiKXGoJzqb768OHgZVY0Ye6MdrqLlN9c0w9907ljca2-qMuiwaMulus1rnXCQqnboirt3juy2ke318eYLaYW5EgY2vAx-lVD6fF5W/s1600/DSC_0663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfutryqVKTCFArRgSvDqpLXNHnZGlDE41xv0VYjfLiKXGoJzqb768OHgZVY0Ye6MdrqLlN9c0w9907ljca2-qMuiwaMulus1rnXCQqnboirt3juy2ke318eYLaYW5EgY2vAx-lVD6fF5W/s640/DSC_0663.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<b>{NINE}</b><br />
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This photo is cute, but the memory tied to it is what landed it here on my list. This was taken moments before the 'sea plane' pulled up to our dock in St. Germain. There was so much tension, I thought we might all explode. Would Carter be brave, and face his fear to ride the sea plane? Would this be a giant flop? Would we all regret this idea?<br />
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Carter CAN.<br />
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<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2016/08/gibson-getaway-2016.html" target="_blank">READ MORE HERE :)</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMHT6o99zaXD9xibOSm_cicQKfJEcuFdDOhRDoZIi_X7y84CpPvMd_kFuoYcTLGH5DyU_2tA4LtqWKb1Fu7yiOHzjDIahi3exKq4ipg4PqtMlB7VXbIBDurc0KqxKbNqMcnS3_BJwB20z/s1600/DSC_0763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMHT6o99zaXD9xibOSm_cicQKfJEcuFdDOhRDoZIi_X7y84CpPvMd_kFuoYcTLGH5DyU_2tA4LtqWKb1Fu7yiOHzjDIahi3exKq4ipg4PqtMlB7VXbIBDurc0KqxKbNqMcnS3_BJwB20z/s640/DSC_0763.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{TEN}</b><br />
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There is something so special to me about a little boy and his mom. This little boy still needs and wants his mama, but some day that might change. For now, I'll just soak up all the good stuff and enjoy the fact that he actually likes me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pNFQwxeyT-9BO9cn4HYwJXL0qRB6cFGclH9Bo7_BWpP6s3iMBpLiJ0P83xIjjrJE75LlNOPkFSy0MZfVSLpN7GFRCuC_CxrF-tNh10cL2H0-AloWbe08FeNb68cM52QWGaf7KG16NL5P/s1600/DSC_0731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pNFQwxeyT-9BO9cn4HYwJXL0qRB6cFGclH9Bo7_BWpP6s3iMBpLiJ0P83xIjjrJE75LlNOPkFSy0MZfVSLpN7GFRCuC_CxrF-tNh10cL2H0-AloWbe08FeNb68cM52QWGaf7KG16NL5P/s640/DSC_0731.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{ELEVEN} </b><br />
<i>(I said 10-ish, remember?)</i><br />
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The big announcement - Baby Gibson due March 2017. Are we crazy? Why so soon? Aren't we going to be overwhelmed? Who has three kids these days, anyway? We do. Can't wait to welcome this new treasure into our lives and into our family.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUR7jj2C9WAZ_-g0eSF7x958PB6sLD3CxgBe3AJOpcxFSgxrKNc5RDeBqVx6m19ioVVjL1DPLqYkOmIj4uge8SYFJH-QUcjLDF2vqq3aoXXEOdpU0n2u_ypK1_jptUDwS7AqGwCyo18Zy/s1600/DSC_0481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUR7jj2C9WAZ_-g0eSF7x958PB6sLD3CxgBe3AJOpcxFSgxrKNc5RDeBqVx6m19ioVVjL1DPLqYkOmIj4uge8SYFJH-QUcjLDF2vqq3aoXXEOdpU0n2u_ypK1_jptUDwS7AqGwCyo18Zy/s640/DSC_0481.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>{TWELVE}</b><br />
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I snapped this photo while taking our family photos, and I can't help but like it. "Daddy - BONK!". These two have a special connection that sometimes doesn't make sense to me, but I like it. Lots of laughs, mixed with a few tears, usually Macy's :) She's a spitting image of her daddy, and I'm not just talking about her appearance. I see many, many loving 'head bonks' in their future.<br />
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That's all, folks. Looking back to remember is good - but now we move forward to 2017.<br />
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Baby BOY coming in just 4-ish weeks, bringing many changes to our well-oiled machine.<br />
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Tiny one-year-old, soon turning TWO, causing this mama to stop and reassess and take inventory of what was and what could have been better.<br />
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Second Grader - in for some enormous changes in the fall, asking God even now <i>(yes, 8 months in advance) </i>for unique ways to prepare him and set him and his new team up for success.<br />
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It was a great year. Here's to another.<br />
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<b>One Thing I Know For Sure:</b> Embracing the good stuff!<br />
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Want more? Here are my lists from previous years :)<br />
<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2016/01/top-15-of-2015-aka-my-fave-post-of.html" target="_blank">2015</a><br />
<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2014/12/top-14-of-2014.html" target="_blank">2014</a><br />
<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2013/12/top-13-of-2013.html" target="_blank">2013</a><br />
<a href="http://homeiswhereitsat.blogspot.com/2013/01/top-12-from-2012.html" target="_blank">2012</a><br />
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<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-22776559242017159892016-12-29T13:35:00.001-06:002016-12-29T13:35:16.246-06:00Our Christmas, In A Nutshell.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Our tree is still in it's place, and I'll be enjoying it for a few more days. But - Christmas is clearly past. Lights are hanging off, pine needles cover the floor, and the bottom half of the tree looks like it's been redecorated by a toddler <i>(because it has).</i> </div>
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Toys scatter the living room, yet to find their new place. Kids sprawl on the floor, absorbed in the newness of each toy. </div>
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Oh, and daddies! Daddy is home, making breakfast each day and working on little projects each afternoon. He took the whole week off to be with us, and we are soaking it up.</div>
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Christmas has passed <i>(and I'm ready for the tree to go, and the new toys to be organized) </i>- but we're still enjoying the fruits of it. Here's what we're remembering.</div>
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<b>HO HO HO.</b></div>
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In mid-December, He came again! Carter knew it was time and sat eagerly by the door for almost an hour before he showed up.</div>
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Carter was thrilled to be getting "santa presents".<br />
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Macy, on the other hand, was happy to watch Santa from a distance this year :) We just let her hang out where she was comfortable, and enjoy Santa in her own way.<br />
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And a family gathering isn't a family gathering without a cake from NaNa :) This one took her almost 3 hours to pipe all the frosting.<br />
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Guess how long it took us to eat it?<br />
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<i>(Are you wondering why we have candles? Carter Law states that one cannot eat cake without candles. Candles make everything more special, don't they?!)</i><br />
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Thanks, Santa, for helping to fill our kids with wonder and excitement. See you next year!<br />
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<b>THREE MORE CELEBRATIONS.</b><br />
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Yes, I said three. At least this year they were spread out over three days, which makes it a lot easier on the kiddos. I'll spare you the details of each celebration. All you really need to know is that our kids are loved a whole lot, by a whole lot of people.<br />
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Macy enjoyed her role as Official Gift Hander-Outer at GG & Grampies house. She had us in stitches - certain that SHE knew who the gift should go to better than the rest of us.<br />
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Little helper girl, just too sweet for words.<br />
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"Panthee dweth" :)<br />
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Carter enjoyed ripping open his gifts, and showing genuine excitement at the contents of each package. Carter's theme this year was garbage trucks, garbage cans, and 'trucks and boats' <i>(and basically anything else with wheels).</i> Our family understands the things that make this boy tick, and they did not disappoint with their gift giving.<br />
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If anyone needs mini garbage cans, we've got about 17 to spare.<br />
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As therapy ended in the fall, we realized that most of Carter's toys had a negative emotion tied to them <i>(since his own toys were used for therapy purposes)</i>. I removed many of his toys throughout the fall, so Christmas was a great time for us to update his toy selection and get some new, exciting things in the house!<br />
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We also looked for toys that both kids could play with, together or individually. This little Melissa & Doug Magnetic Puzzle Book has been a hit, along with the Melissa & Doug Doorbell House <i>(complete with keys to unlock each door!).</i><br />
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Also, as I was wrapping gifts up, I had the brilliant idea to remove the packaging from all battery operated gifts, and place batteries in them! I'm glad I did - each toy could be played with right away which eliminated tons of frustration and chaos.<br />
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<b>CHRISTMAS EVE.</b><br />
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Possibly my favorite moment of the whole Christmas Season - the candlelight Christmas Eve Service. This year was different - Jake gave a message, which left me with two kiddos. One kiddo was silly to the max, the other was having nothing to do with the snacks I packed <i>(because...why can't we go in the nursery?!)</i>.<br />
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I spent most of the service in the nursery by myself with my two spunky kids <i>(Thanks for filling in for a few minutes so I could hear Jake, Rach! I appreciate it!)</i>. This is just the season that we're in. I can't say that I love it, but it's where we are. I'm growing, and learning how to be quicker to respond in love for my kids - slower to respond in selfishness and pride.<br />
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We snuck back into the service just in time for Silent Night, sung by candle light. We had no candles, one kid was climbing Jake like a monkey, the other kid was wondering why we weren't blowing out the candles, and Jake and I exchanged a look that translates to "It's okay". It was a special moment, and I'm thankful for it.<br />
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One little picture of our two Christmas Eve kids. This blurry, goofy picture sums up our night.<br />
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Our Christmas was so full - full of activities, full of people, and full of love. Kids, I hope that when you look back on your childhood Christmas celebrations you remember love. The presents are fun, the 'panthee dwethes' are nice, the candle light service is special, but love is what this is really about.<br />
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I'll leave you all with this. My favorite snap of the whole Christmas Season. Two siblings, just enjoying something together. Unexpectedly, this is doll house is a favorite for both kids.<br />
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Cozying up, snuggling in, quieting down, choosing love.<br />
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This was our Christmas.<br />
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<b>One Thing I Know For Sure:</b> Love.Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-534516258316279739.post-80696298818785089682016-12-07T10:42:00.001-06:002016-12-07T10:42:18.204-06:00Lately.A friend told me the other day that she pops in here often to see what's new. I haven't posted since September, and life is full. And new, in so many ways.<br />
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Here's what's going on lately. Grab a cup and cozy up.<br />
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<b>+HAIRCUT+</b><br />
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Macy got her first little haircut two weeks back. We watched some videos of 'big girls' getting haircuts, and explained that soon Macy would get a 'big girl' haircut, too.<br />
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Carter went first, to show her how it's done. He was a champ and a trooper, like he usually is. But I think he was extra good, for his baby sister.<br />
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Macy was climbing out of Jake's lap and couldn't wait for her turn. She was so excited - and sat in the chair so nice. Such a big little girl.<br />
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Bye, wispy baby locks. Bye, long goofy curl in the back.<br />
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Hi, big girl.<br />
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Thanks, Leslie, for a super fun and easy first haircut!<br />
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<b>+CHRISTMAS TREE+</b><br />
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Carter has been talking about 'Christmas Tree Saturday' for at least two weeks (<i>since Jake put the Christmas lights outside)</i>. We woke up on Saturday morning and told Carter that yes, <i>finally</i>, it was Christmas Tree Day.<br />
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We found a fun little spot in Wild Rose - the tractor and wagon ride was a fun bonus for Carter :)<br />
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The weather was decent, the kids were happy, and the morning was perfect.<br />
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As you can see, Carter is <i>beyond</i> happy, actually.<br />
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He has no problems tapping into the Christmas Spirit. Dude will be 110% Christmas Cheer from now until January 1.<br />
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It was fun for me having two kiddos who could walk with mom and dad, hold hands, and listen to directions. This has never happened before.<br />
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What am I supposed to do with my arms? Nobody is hanging on me!<br />
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After choosing our tree, which took about 6 minutes because every tree was 'just right', we headed to the little shop for popcorn <i>(for the kiddies) </i>and pepsi <i>(for the parents)</i>.<br />
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Popcorn on the table. Popcorn on the floor. Popcorn in jacket pockets. Popcorn in mittens. It's okay. <i>It's fine.</i> They're happy.<br />
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It really doesn't get much better than this.<br />
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<i>{and also, let's enjoy these days when some popcorn makes them this happy. may it always be so.}</i><br />
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<b>+BABY BOY+</b><br />
<br />
Yes, this is new :) I realize I haven't said anything about Baby Boy here.<br />
<br />
Sorry, third child. I love you dearly. Really, I do.<br />
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Actually, I love you SO much that I'm taking the time to prioritize and take direction, and sometimes that means the blog has to wait. It's good stuff, I promise.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAECim3l_8NDBeJOAmyeE3Ejjf0MnT95-dEudXKhEiZolZjfF8IAk1uvbgdFthB4_hjEanuCjjRqnQEQrlSfSI-e-MHKUoYJZJ1H3qyQrCIXVre_7GSGbZOPNiHGjYJRrppw1Mv_LVqtk8/s1600/FullSizeRender-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAECim3l_8NDBeJOAmyeE3Ejjf0MnT95-dEudXKhEiZolZjfF8IAk1uvbgdFthB4_hjEanuCjjRqnQEQrlSfSI-e-MHKUoYJZJ1H3qyQrCIXVre_7GSGbZOPNiHGjYJRrppw1Mv_LVqtk8/s640/FullSizeRender-3.jpg" width="574" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hi, third trimester!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Baby Boy - coming in March 2017. Due two days before Macy's second birthday.<br />
<br />
We talked in late May about adding another babe to the family, and after waiting two years to get pregnant with Macy we knew we might be waiting a while.<br />
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Not this time!<br />
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Max, Silas, Joel, Sawyer, Jude, Sam...while we're having fun thinking about what to call you, we know you already have a name, and you're known by it.<br />
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You're known. You're seen. We can't wait to meet you.<br />
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<b>+MOM LIFE+</b><br />
<br />
What I really mean is that we sold the fun, sporty, lux Lexus for a minivan <i>(because #threecarseats #holymoly)</i>. This was harder for me than I care to admit. It's just a car, right? It's no big deal. I don't care about stuff! Or...wait...<br />
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The Lexus was for a short, fun season. But the season that's coming will be good, too. Different. But good.<br />
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I told Jake I will drive whatever he picks for me. I didn't even test drive it. "But, maybe we could just stay away from red. If it's red, that's okay! But it wouldn't be my first choice. Just in case you were wondering."<br />
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The minivan is red. Dark red. Maybe I'll call it wine. But really, I know it's red.<br />
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Hardy har har har.<br />
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Giving up control, another area I need to grow in.<br />
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But Carter is beyond thrilled that he now can push the button to open and close his door. This is livin' large, for our eight year old boy. I'm embracing that perspective.<br />
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<b>+FREEDOM+</b><br />
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There have been many changes in Carter's life - and maybe I'll dig into those in a post after the New Year. Big changes deserve their own post :)<br />
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We have had amazing, loving, excellent people come into our life over the past 6 months and all of them have told us the same things.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMEnpPQMKG5lRQr3YhMajBdFFQ4VGmcHpXpKJxImHmqcD8p9Leo3DPnJ4NghroHA5Kdb2gNtKbBOC8waaSJL3eOfVeK8LwpK8-IhmgvEHdB8XX_njGTDU9bjhGGrCF269gk4LH069VeD4/s1600/IMG_7119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMEnpPQMKG5lRQr3YhMajBdFFQ4VGmcHpXpKJxImHmqcD8p9Leo3DPnJ4NghroHA5Kdb2gNtKbBOC8waaSJL3eOfVeK8LwpK8-IhmgvEHdB8XX_njGTDU9bjhGGrCF269gk4LH069VeD4/s640/IMG_7119.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Popcorn everywhere. Drinking the sisters juice. Sitting down and READING A BOOK. What the what?!<br />
Reading is fun when you aren't being made to do it. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Carter needs a better way to communicate. <i>Give it to him.</i><br />
Carter is not benefitting from therapy. <i>Cut it.</i><br />
Carter's brain works this way. <i>Learn it and embrace it. </i><br />
<i>{It's actually not that different from yours or mine}</i><br />
Carter is an eight year old boy. <i>Eight year old boys need to play. </i><br />
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Yes, yes, yes, and yes.<br />
<br />
Freedom, in the most unexpected ways.<br />
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This is where we are today. Our lives - hands - hearts are full, in every sense of the word. Embracing this full season, and enjoying every little part.<br />
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<b>One Thing I Know For Sure:</b> This is the good stuff.<br />
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<br />Ashley Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17081658992370928521noreply@blogger.com2