tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132538401994222832023-11-16T06:27:50.436-08:00TeamLloydBurning water and piling up dishes since 2010. Chronicling my adventures via text and video with the hard working motorcycle riding Cable Guy and first born Monkey sprinkled with some musings. Did I mention I have a crippling fear of frying food?DCGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18232772934326701851noreply@blogger.comBlogger240125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-20059068741013122112016-01-27T08:00:00.000-08:002016-01-27T08:00:44.542-08:00Read all of the books!<div style="text-align: center;">
Recently I was listening to NPR on my way to work and was extremely frustrated when one of the topics of discussion was a children's book that the publishers were pulling because it portrayed two of George Washington's slaves as "happy." </div>
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Seriously? Because we are too stupid as a people to know that slavery was a horrible existence for too many in our countries early history and teach that to our children as we read them a book where they may have a gotten a made up fact wrong? Seriously?!</div>
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Here begins my rant: Censorship is not okay. Why limit the amount of teachable moments and narrow the minds of those who chomp at the bit to expand it? What happened to critical thinking, which leads to critical learning (at this point, I'd accept learning period)? Why encourage complacency and a life filled with monochromatic thought?</div>
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We can't afford to make minds smaller in a world that lumps giant categories of people in small one world titles (you know what I'm talking about without me even having to say it). Why does the saying have to be "don't judge a book by its cover"? I say, "Don't judge at all. Leave that to Jesus." </div>
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I will never be okay with book bans. I think banning a book is akin to telling something they are too stupid to come up with their own thoughts and ideas and here is what to think complete with presuppositions. No thanks, I've seen your worldview; I need more light. End rant.</div>
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In case you were wondering what a banned book might look like, the America Library Association (ala.org) has a list. Here are some of my favorites: </div>
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<b><i>I Know Why the Cage Bird Sings </i></b>by Maya Angelou</div>
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<i><b>Bridge to Terabithia </b></i>by Katherine Paterson (just the mere mention of this book invokes sobs)</div>
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<i><b>Forever </b></i>by Judy Blume (the queen of banned book list)</div>
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<i><b>Catcher in the Rye </b></i>by J.D. Salinger (quite possibly the most fought over and most often found on high school reading lists)</div>
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<i><b>A Wrinkle in Time </b></i>by Madeleine L'Engle (and this one hurts the most as it is in my top five favorite book)</div>
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I encourage you to check and see if your favorite book has made it on the <a href="http://www.ala.org/bbooks/frequentlychallengedbooks/top100" target="_blank">list</a>. And if it has, make sure to read it to your children.</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/AVvXsEj2-8yV_EZKFdbGSoV6Ad8yVuIQf6MY_gFlXET5ut1k930oJ96T3v7jkv9WFFQ8Kg59rP-Rn06mpkZowUCI_CuTnCIhVWHdD_IcoEtab92idUM6VVg1kv5CXXjPliD2BxGmefsSumIhLxg/s1600/readingblog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="father reading to his son" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-8yV_EZKFdbGSoV6Ad8yVuIQf6MY_gFlXET5ut1k930oJ96T3v7jkv9WFFQ8Kg59rP-Rn06mpkZowUCI_CuTnCIhVWHdD_IcoEtab92idUM6VVg1kv5CXXjPliD2BxGmefsSumIhLxg/s640/readingblog.jpg" title="The Cable Guy reading to Monkey" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PS I knew I found the one when The Cable Guy told me his favorite book is <b><i>The Outsiders</i></b> by S.E. Hinton, which is also in my top five...and also on the ban list...</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-15152843243728474222016-01-26T08:00:00.000-08:002016-01-26T08:00:02.919-08:00Fix or Repair Daily<div style="text-align: center;">
In a perfect world, I would not lose the paper in which I had written a bunch of notes on my thoughts about banning books. In this world, I lost that piece of paper AND the menu I planned for next month, complete with side dishes. I was completely irritated over this fact three hours ago and now I'm just chalking it up to another day. Instead, you get to hear about The Cable Guy's new truck.</div>
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The Cable Guy was recently promoted (because he's a rockstar studmuffin of a man!) and part of his new duties will have him be on call for a week at a time. He also is not able to park his new rig at our house because it is the same size as a small house. A tiny house. Of which I am obsessed. But that too is for another post.</div>
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So now that The Cable Guy is unable to just walk out of the door and jump into his work vehicle, he needed a way to get to work. And I needed a way to get home if I was at work on the weekend (his days home with Monkey).</div>
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Back story: in December, we traded in both of our Subaru's for a brand new Toyota Highlander. I don't just mean brand new to us, I mean still had new car smell and single digit miles on the speedometer new. I love this car. It is the last car I will ever buy until it dies a very long grueling painful death. It will fit one more car seat nicely and still have room for all the visiting relatives who come to play with our babies and ignore us (a condition I've come to accept but one The Cable Guy still struggles with. Silly only child). Since my beloved and I do not have days off together, on the days he was home with Monkey, I would get dropped off at work. Now that I could be stranded at work at a moment's notice while Monkey is in his grandparents care, we decided we needed a VERY cheap second vehicle.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLb0aHjwKpjh0HMZbBbRW6Yyvt2kgbsrntQJOEyqoVWY0qk8BgSFtVXfmpfgwuGZ-LGZTnxVTLSE6j-kMuV1CjbAFAejZ5zabNhX2cD5wkUC5QUGE5rDbSCDtIvguibjfitiRyrALxeEc/s1600/Lander.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="blue SUV car sitting in driveway" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLb0aHjwKpjh0HMZbBbRW6Yyvt2kgbsrntQJOEyqoVWY0qk8BgSFtVXfmpfgwuGZ-LGZTnxVTLSE6j-kMuV1CjbAFAejZ5zabNhX2cD5wkUC5QUGE5rDbSCDtIvguibjfitiRyrALxeEc/s640/Lander.jpg" title="Toyota Highlander" width="551" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new mommy mobile, Lander the Highlander.</td></tr>
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Enter the last thing I would have ever purchased for myself, a 2002 Ford F150. A Ford. And not a cool Ford, like when we owned a Mustang. Oh. No. A Ford truck. With a cassette player. And a smell. A smell that I couldn't describe. A smell that I still can't find words to describe but has lessened because The Cable Guy took some toxic odor killer stuff to the inside and now it smells like fresh sunshine.</div>
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The guys at work were positively drooling over it and I just shook my head, because as wonderful as I think I am, I will never understand the love a man has for a truck. I'd still be driving my little Saturn SL2 if it were up to me. Sigh. The one plus out of this is that if this vehicle lasts another fourteen years, I can tell you what Monkey is going to be driving. Now I need to go cry because my baby will be driving in fourteen years (motherhood is full of interrupting emotions).</div>
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Are you driving a vehicle you hate? What is it? What would be your dream car? (Mine's been the same since I was twelve, a Lamborghini. This still blows my husband's mind)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-81470374311098204492016-01-24T09:00:00.000-08:002016-01-24T09:00:13.829-08:00Yo Soy Mama<div style="text-align: center;">
While I don't necessarily look the part, I'm Puerto Rican. Well half. Yep, bi-racial baby right here. And unless I've seen the sun (which doesn't happen in the PNW), you'd really never know. </div>
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Sure, there's generally an olive cast to my skin and I live for arroz con gandules, but it's really no surprise to anyone who knows me that I identify with my German half. It's a very strong German half. My mother's family all speaks German to various degrees and we'd be happy eating nothing but potatoes and bread. In fact, I can't remember the English words to "Silent Night," which I almost just typed as "Silent Nacht." That's right, I regularly use Gerglish. </div>
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Occasionally, I'll pull out Spanish but it's really only when I'm reading my son a story in Spanish, of which I'm sure he understands none of it because it's not like I'm using those words anywhere else. Which frustrates me. I wish I had taken more of an interest in retaining it but I HATED my Spanish classes, which I didn't take until high school. They were awful, taught by a professor who was super nice but shouldn't have been teaching. She was from Peru and would throw out informal Peruvian phrases as examples of the item we were learning and then put them on the test. Only class in seventeen years of schooling to make me cry. </div>
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That is not what I want for Monkey at all. Lucky for me, my Puerto Rican paternal unit is one of Monkey's favorite people. The opportunity to instill everything I love about my island heritage is strong since Monkey hangs on everything about his Gramps. I want him to not only love the food, but also the music, the art, the strength that comes from being a Latino. In fact, as I sit here writing this, I have the Viva Latino channel from Spotify playing and all I want to do is jump up and dance but then I'd block my husband's view of the TV and quite frankly, I'm at an age where I don't really "jump" to do anything.</div>
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What I find most interesting is that my sad relationship with half my heritage is more accepted than say some of my choices as a mother. I'm more likely to be criticized by other moms for working full time, or not breastfeeding long enough or letting my son sleep on sheets where the monkeys have pink hair bows than I am for the sad way I roll my r's. I have been and will be a Boricua for far longer than I will ever be a mother but to me, both are an integral part of who I am, just like being German and having an amazing career make up other parts of me. In fact my brothers and I even created a term for our mixed heritage, Gerican. I wish it was that easy for being a working mom. Well actually it is. I call myself bad ass. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCQXtcwId4_evkJ4E2U49p3rPy57PwWqwaZBOV9C1X7H_Fe1JI4IclVoOTu3CdBpGiO2hMD3I8-CBkbmn6IksSCdIsHKqhQQL205K1ycmwcQvYcZG1v1oFkSAXz9ws7sKAYm5LTmR6-o4/s1600/IMG_0472-COLLAGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Dark haired mom and blonde boy" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCQXtcwId4_evkJ4E2U49p3rPy57PwWqwaZBOV9C1X7H_Fe1JI4IclVoOTu3CdBpGiO2hMD3I8-CBkbmn6IksSCdIsHKqhQQL205K1ycmwcQvYcZG1v1oFkSAXz9ws7sKAYm5LTmR6-o4/s400/IMG_0472-COLLAGE.jpg" title="Monkey and Me" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best of both sides</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-56938541868698565382016-01-23T09:00:00.000-08:002016-01-23T09:00:08.050-08:00This is Me<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/AVvXsEifdQ85egvSAhnk5ujbtWmYFcz0FiEtayeOIyPK4mJ8UsfmmJJyq67vghv4B6zNveQXHCie-Ew2taDz0C1NADFEKEFjbi_H6F6XQl1tb_8QQzbPE45CeokXg-DY0MuZ2O5hjGz2arxJt8o/s1600/IMG_0966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="girl laying on the couch" border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifdQ85egvSAhnk5ujbtWmYFcz0FiEtayeOIyPK4mJ8UsfmmJJyq67vghv4B6zNveQXHCie-Ew2taDz0C1NADFEKEFjbi_H6F6XQl1tb_8QQzbPE45CeokXg-DY0MuZ2O5hjGz2arxJt8o/s640/IMG_0966.JPG" title="This is me" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This. Is. Me.</td></tr>
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I spend the vast majority of my one minute of free time each day thinking about what I'm going to do with this blog. There was the thought to shut it down, but I rather like the creative outlet. I tried vlogging but let's be honest, I don't shower often enough to be on camera. What do I do with this blog? What should I say?</div>
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The successful bloggers will say "write for yourself, that way it won't matter if no one is reading." Really? Yeah that's how you got to thirty thousand page views a day and an invitation to meet Madonna. Yeah okay.</div>
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The truth is I would love to have my writing out there where everyone would read it, where I would receive accolades and applause and money. Lots and lots of money. The reality, though, is that I work full time, I mom full time, I take a crack at wifing and after all of that is said and done, I'm too lazy to sit down and write anything anyone, least of all something I, would like to read.</div>
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And yet, I don't give this us and I come back to it like the proverbial moth to the flame. My love of writing started soon as I realized that those squiggly lines on the pages that my mother read to me night after night after night were words and nothing could stop me from writing my own. When I finally learned to read on my own, it just felt natural to assume that someday I would have a career where I would write. And then I got into junior high and high school, where I could feel my love of writing drain from me. It wasn't because my teachers didn't want me to be creative; they loved it in fact. The problem was that I had caught on to how to structure and use grammar to my benefit and everyone else was taking their sweet ass precious time to catch up. I didn't need to use web diagrams or free writing to come up with ideas. Why were we wasting time coming up with more ideas when I hadn't even made a dent in the ones in my head yet?! This got me into more trouble than my mother would like to admit and required more than one meeting with a teacher or counselor with me agreeing to play by the rules and not allow my eyes to glaze over until I had left the building. Fair enough.</div>
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This ability to come to a compromise in my writing has actually aided in my hospitality career path. I also do not sound like a complete idiot when suggesting to people to find an alternative venue to hold their bachelorette toga party for forty somewhere else, for which my boss and employees are grateful.</div>
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So where does that leave me with this blog? Well, the name TeamLloyd is staying. The Cable Guy and Monkey are my family and they permeate everything I do. I literally don't make a single decision without contemplating the outcome on them (except when it comes to salad dressing; ranch for them, french for me). What I write will definitely encompass their effect on me but also what effect I'm having on the world, which becomes very evident to me when I'm putting Monkey to bed at night and he puts his hands on my face and says, "I so happy to see you momma." And then he wraps his arms around my neck and declares, "hugs!". Yep, in that moment, the whole world flashes before me and I get to see how I'm truly doing as a human being.</div>
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Yep, this is me. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-38163623415402631452015-11-14T21:53:00.000-08:002015-11-14T21:53:34.882-08:00A Very Merry Real Birthday to You!<div style="text-align: center;">
How are we already half way through November? Thanksgiving is right around the corner and Christmas is the next block over. Both of my boys have birthdays this month, first the Cable Guy and the next day is Monkey's. And so the age old question of what do you get the man who has everything comes around twice for me (after all, I'm in their life. What more do you need?).</div>
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The Cable Guy is actually the easier one this year, mainly because he can tell me what he wants. Ammo. For the love. I don't even know where to go for that. Do they have ammo stores? Does Amazon carry ammo? What kind of ammo does he need? There are different kinds right? He might as well have asked for a baby alpaca. In fact, that I would have an easier time with. Who doesn't want a baby alpaca?</div>
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Now the other one, Monkey, he's the tricky one. He can't tell me what he wants. No I take that back. He tells me exactly what he wants. Milk. Blankie. Poop. IPad. Me to sit down and hand him books until they have been sufficiently read. But what he doesn't tell me is what he'd like that will further his little life. So his dad and I have to come up with the newest addition. We only do one birthday present, so we make it a good one. Like baby alpaca status. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5mLIsTf_wnMURKxf80wjfd3VxKD76YPv06K8X6yx29Jqc_R5Z_UlgrfqytmzWJIaOATWMHpcbw-9O5-zCgrrwvwrNHhotYfokcqrupEx-uv1iwuxKO7U_nsxzhWWtFNMduhtI08oh64/s1600/Jaxen04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Baby boy eating breakfast on his birthday" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5mLIsTf_wnMURKxf80wjfd3VxKD76YPv06K8X6yx29Jqc_R5Z_UlgrfqytmzWJIaOATWMHpcbw-9O5-zCgrrwvwrNHhotYfokcqrupEx-uv1iwuxKO7U_nsxzhWWtFNMduhtI08oh64/s640/Jaxen04.jpg" title="Baby Monkey having breakfast on his birthday" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
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I can't believe my high school sweetheart will be thirty-one and my tiny baby will be two. The crazy just keeps coming. </div>
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What are your go to gifts for toddlers?</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-68038977867931558002015-11-11T21:20:00.000-08:002015-11-11T21:20:30.359-08:00I Can't Get No Satisfaction<div style="text-align: center;">
As someone who has always loved to write, I would consider myself a writer more as descriptor than as a title (ie the short brunette writer blue eyed curly haired chick). One of the bad habits that a writer tends to have is never being satisfied with what they've written in the past and I am no exception. So since I was drawing a blank today on what I should write about, I went back to <a href="http://teamlloyd3.blogspot.com/2012/11/wanted-book-without-bite.html" target="_blank">this post</a> and edited it. Please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think about it. </div>
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PS Is anyone out there actually reading this? If so, I'd love to hear from you.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-91520692143106106382015-11-08T22:07:00.000-08:002015-11-08T22:07:16.015-08:00Sugar is Sweet and So Are You<div style="text-align: center;">
Today Monkey asked me to rock him to sleep. I'm pretty sure it was a stall tactic but I choose to believe he needed a little something extra tonight. He needed his momma to hold him and kiss his little nose and sing him songs in a low slightly out of tune key. True love is not caring what your mom sounds like when she sings and patting her on the arm encouragingly to keep going.</div>
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We don't usually rock our son to sleep. Not because we're trying to
avoid bad habits or anything like but because we usually end up rocking
ourselves to sleep and he stays wide awake. As Monkey gets older,
though, whenever he offers up an opportunity to snuggle, I'm all in.
Some day he will be a teenager sneaking snuggles with his sweetheart
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And that's life. Especially life as a mom. Every moment is bittersweet. I'm trying to focus more on the sweet than the bitter part because, honestly, it really is sweet. Watching my son develop his personality and his interests and seeing nature versus nurture happen right before my eyes. Even when I'm trying to remain cool while offering the fifteenth snack item in hopes of getting him to eat something, anything that he's asked for. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47IKHrVqjJSqEOJVGxNdoGuESWQGuQoYSpLxitigoxdpz7EIoCKyTJGa7PABL3izQrNdQ5aBqZhmkD3S_hIBIpjvzU2he1ziEoMS2OavYdpfBGXUr7R_GY2MNiJclUKvyKzTqnxdTxBs/s1600/Jaxen03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Little boy standing on chair washing dishes" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47IKHrVqjJSqEOJVGxNdoGuESWQGuQoYSpLxitigoxdpz7EIoCKyTJGa7PABL3izQrNdQ5aBqZhmkD3S_hIBIpjvzU2he1ziEoMS2OavYdpfBGXUr7R_GY2MNiJclUKvyKzTqnxdTxBs/s1600/Jaxen03.JPG" title="Monkey washing dishes" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the sweeter moments. Such a good helper!</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-45459158725653397662015-11-07T21:34:00.000-08:002015-11-07T21:34:24.585-08:00Be Careful Little Mouth What You Say<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6WnzcKedeFkR9hHNFw7sQoDEOwtRcFFI13GoZ2Km14umDduWPw5757gJKNJ_NoXsOg52jvuvBy8ZGupuLE7h-TOHSek9Hs7QPgZLXOpGE2n2yZC9lgSiM8RcTzIJsXwlua1xcW4ymdis/s1600/Frankling+quote.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Quote from Benjamin Franklin on water background" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6WnzcKedeFkR9hHNFw7sQoDEOwtRcFFI13GoZ2Km14umDduWPw5757gJKNJ_NoXsOg52jvuvBy8ZGupuLE7h-TOHSek9Hs7QPgZLXOpGE2n2yZC9lgSiM8RcTzIJsXwlua1xcW4ymdis/s400/Frankling+quote.jpg.jpg" title="Benjamin Franklin quote" width="366" /></a></div>
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I tend to be a rather negative person. There's a certain enjoyment in playing the devil's advocate and employing sarcasm when, well just because. It's just who I am and it's how I earned the nickname Oscar the Grouch from a neighbor growing up. </div>
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I've tried to justify it every which way under the sun. It's been labeled as "being realistic" and "straight shooting." Honestly, it's just being grumpy and can be down right hurtful. Don't get me wrong, I one hundred percent believe in being truthful and having integrity; however, when it's relayed in a way that does not allow for grace and tact, you're not doing anyone any favors. The person receiving the information is turned off by your delivery and you've allowed a little piece of yourself to lose it's light.</div>
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Some would cry "foul!" and call it sugar coating. Well, maybe that's what it is. If considering someone's feelings and their circumstances gives you pause and makes you phrase what you might say differently and you want to call it sugar coating, go right on ahead. I believe most would just say you are employing a little used communication technique called tact. </div>
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Remember the saying "you'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar"? That's tact. When you consider trying to legitimately influence a person's life for the better, that's tact. When you don't employ expletives and instead respect that you are dealing with a person with feelings, no matter how blind and ignorant they may wish to remain, that's tact. </div>
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Benjamin Franklin said "Remember not only to say the right thing in the right place, but far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment." It seems like in my line of work, when dealing with the public, I have daily opportunities to say the wrong thing at the tempting moment. However, I value my job and more importantly the opinions of my boss and my employees, so I weigh my options and I take more time to speak now than I ever did in my late teens and early twenties. </div>
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Someday my son will do something that I'm sure will warrant criticism. It will be up to me in that moment to choose to send him down the path that leads to a solution, rather than therapy. Fingers crossed, I get it right the first time.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-55901707674234109112015-11-05T20:23:00.001-08:002015-11-05T20:23:30.143-08:00What...Just...Happened...?<div style="text-align: center;">
Do you ever have one of those days where everything starts off so well and ends up with you on the couch letting your toddler watch the same episode of Barney that's been on repeat for the past two months? No, just me?</div>
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We rent and today I was waiting for the maintenance guy to show up and install a new bath surround. Our bathroom is original to the house and literally falling apart. When we first moved in, the Cable Guy was giving Monkey a bath and he put his hand on the wall to steady himself as he was looking down...and his hand went through the wall. The concrete board (??) was completely soaked and the tiles weren't being held on by anything. Now this house was probably built in the 1950's and was do for a remodel at least three decades ago, if not more. They repaired the hole created by my hulking husband but lo and behold, almost a year later, the bottom rows of tiles are starting to cave in. Since we also had to have the water heater replaced (so thankful at this point that we rent), they measured the tub area and purchased a surround.</div>
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Today the gentlemen showed up and began removing fixtures, only to discover TA DAH! more moisture that needs to be dried out. The fan currently running in my bathroom sounds like a Boeing 757 and will be turned off before I decide to fall asleep. On top of that, when they opened the surround, it was cracked. So no installation for us. Thank the good Lord in heaven that my parents live right around the corner (again, this is literal; I turn right at the stop sign and their apartment complex is a quarter-mile away) or we'd be one smelly bunch by next Wednesday. </div>
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This was all after we got up this morning, ate a nutritious breakfast, did some laundry, got Monkey to put the iPad down with little torture screaming and was generally feeling pretty bad ass about myself. Thank you cosmos for reminding me that there wouldn't be any sunshine without some rain. You suck.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDF24oduVYDBIFrSoHLp8mAjVLF_CUqaKZ0Ve7XqjWbeWBpQpmSMeAT-fhu3cKEhPu9evFSe8dq5tw6YIqd0lDoejNtytFH4-4ibiVkEzbRqQbosSX-wRJKuXWjWX8c4voIPyuSj7DnqI/s1600/Jaxen02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Little boy eating yogurt and playing on iPad" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDF24oduVYDBIFrSoHLp8mAjVLF_CUqaKZ0Ve7XqjWbeWBpQpmSMeAT-fhu3cKEhPu9evFSe8dq5tw6YIqd0lDoejNtytFH4-4ibiVkEzbRqQbosSX-wRJKuXWjWX8c4voIPyuSj7DnqI/s1600/Jaxen02.JPG" title="Breakfast time" /></a></div>
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Ok, so maybe I had a little assistance a la iPad this morning but hey, I don't see you offering to lose sleep over diaper rashes and eat soggy toddler spit ridden Cheerios.</div>
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What was your last parenting win? What has you day drinking lately? Leave a comment below!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-88456807843004595262015-11-04T21:01:00.003-08:002015-11-04T21:01:45.165-08:00Trying to Catch My Breath<div style="text-align: center;">
My son is yelling and I'm pretty sure doing the toddler version of cursing me. His routine has been badly interrupted as of late, as I just got back from a week long conference in Idaho. That means he spent the two days that he'd normally spend with me in the care of my parents. Bed time wasn't adhered to, naps were hit and miss and all of the sugar in the house was had. Now mommy is home and in "what baby wants, baby gets mode." This is a terrible parenting motto but I went through the long painful labor so it's my prerogative. In two days, Monkey and I will be getting in my car and headed to Crescent City to visit with Binky and the Little Loves. More sugar, less sleeping.</div>
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At what point in parenting do you say screw the norm and embrace the chaos? It's clear that Monkey thrives on a schedule but since the effects of not keeping one aren't apparent right away because of him being naturally good-natured, I tend to live dangerously and let my kid eat copious amounts of whip cream and leave the apple pie (while being encouraged to do so by his maternal grammy, the same maternal grammy who used to take the cookie out of my hand and make me eat pears instead. I hate pears). It's also clear copious amounts of whip cream result in running in circles while babbling incoherently and then stopping to roll around on the floor while giggling uncontrollably. Sigh. Will I ever learn?</div>
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Thankfully, after this trip life goes back to normal. MOPs, story time at the library, and asking me a thousand times if we can vacuum. The entire house. Again. This is life.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlGT2Xt0UVRyHE-mgUoTQpaXrWw0nhBmNRQe62ctojv3A1bjQF8QlRS3GyegyDmfQPQDK047l7zpUcHNsu2ZX7dHkmwK2SVcyxiGg0pUNY9uILf36uxbk90xKIIpOpalzCqLvIQm0Sds/s1600/Jaxen01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="little boy riding a bronze bear at the zoo" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlGT2Xt0UVRyHE-mgUoTQpaXrWw0nhBmNRQe62ctojv3A1bjQF8QlRS3GyegyDmfQPQDK047l7zpUcHNsu2ZX7dHkmwK2SVcyxiGg0pUNY9uILf36uxbk90xKIIpOpalzCqLvIQm0Sds/s320/Jaxen01.JPG" title="Monkey at the zoo" width="229" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's getting so big!</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-61939764868433562662015-09-11T21:00:00.001-07:002015-09-11T21:00:41.866-07:00TeamLloyd: August Birchbox/Ipsy Empties<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/p2Ynq8Ep8hk" width="459"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-68146366898609448512015-09-04T20:39:00.000-07:002015-09-04T20:39:42.453-07:00Amazon Haul<div style="text-align: center;">
Hey everybody! I've started a new video where I shop on Amazon for $25 and see what kinds of amazing things I can find. Here's the first one. Make sure to give the video a thumbs up and be sure to subscribe to my channel. XO!</div>
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PS I've changed up my posting schedule to be Tuesdays and Fridays. I need a little more grace than one day. ;)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-56414850470705927262015-09-01T16:54:00.001-07:002015-09-01T16:54:00.409-07:00Newest video is up!I know it's been a hot minute but here's the latest vlog. Enjoy and make sure to give it a thumbs up. And I will love you forever if you subscribe. XO! <div><br></div><div><a href="https://youtu.be/NBDZljyn37s">https://youtu.be/NBDZljyn37s</a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-86589089961809439412015-07-16T00:00:00.000-07:002015-07-16T00:00:02.617-07:00TeamLloyd Reads!<div style="text-align: center;">
You know you're a parent when you find the books you checked out from the library for your kid more interesting than the one you check out for yourself. Watch on to find out why I look at Wonder Woman a little differently now...</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-66006832836196025062015-07-14T00:00:00.000-07:002015-07-14T00:00:01.701-07:00June Birchbox/Ipsy Empties<div style="text-align: center;">
I love getting mail and subscriptions services feed that love. When my Birchbox box and Ipsy bag arrive in the mail, I can't wait to get them home and open them. After Monkey goes to bed, I sit on my bed and open them and take each item out one by one. There is lots of oohing and aahing (and if the Cable Guy comes in while I'm in the middle of it, a lot of head nodding). The reason I show you all my empties is because if I may receive a product and never use it, so what good does that do. If I'm showing you an empty product, I've used it and can give a review. If you're anything like me, just seeing a product is not going to convince me of anything. So here's what I used up this month.</div>
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Make sure to subscribe and give this video a thumbs up. Also head over to my <a href="htt://www.facebook.com/teamlloyd3" target="_blank">Facebook page</a>. There will be a giveaway when we hit 100 likes. XO!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-44371731311342508512015-07-09T00:00:00.000-07:002015-07-09T00:00:10.267-07:00Boys Have Blonde Hair Too<div style="text-align: center;">
I get it. I really do. My son has beautiful blonde curls. The color and style of his hair does not determine his sex. People of the world, please, stop looking like a-holes and just say "you have a gorgeous child." That's it. You've complimented my child, which by proxy you've complimented me and you keep your status as ignorant free human intact. Thank you for your cooperation.</div>
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XO!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-88388232495274337352015-07-02T14:02:00.001-07:002015-07-02T14:02:20.569-07:00Don't "July" To Me! Here are My Goals<div style="text-align: center;">
One thing all successful people will tell you is the importance of setting goals. It's not just the action of setting the goal but also the process in how you go about achieving it. Part of that is usually finding something or someone to hold you accountable; that is why each month I share with all of you what I hope to accomplish for that time period and hope that it becomes a part of the way I live my life. Hands up if you have found success with setting and achieving goals. Share your tips and tricks!</div>
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Thanks for watching. XO!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-51852698517568858762015-06-30T00:00:00.000-07:002015-06-30T00:00:04.600-07:00June Favorites<div style="text-align: center;">
I am definitely one of those people who will find a product I love and stick with it until the end of time. I have started to branch out a little bit (due mainly to addictive subscription services and Amazon Prime), so here are the things I'm loving this month. Products and links will be down below, as well as in the video description on YouTube.</div>
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<a href="http://www.naircare.com/en/Women/Products/Nair-Lotion-With-Baby-Oil" target="_blank">Nair Lotion with Baby Oil</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.perfectlyposh.com/nanderson" target="_blank">Perfectly Posh I'm Shrinking Clay Mask </a></div>
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Hair Clips-Dollar Tree</div>
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Thanks for watching and be sure to click subscribe and give the video a thumbs up! XO!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-11214373209774790532015-06-25T00:00:00.000-07:002015-06-25T00:00:08.474-07:00June Empties!<div style="text-align: center;">
As a family of three (or two and a half depending on what restaurant you're in), we don't use up all that many disposable items. Here's what we used up this month. </div>
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What does your family use up on a regular basis? I would love to hear from you! XO!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-14344036025967581322015-06-23T00:00:00.000-07:002015-06-23T00:00:10.116-07:00Happy Father's Day!<div style="text-align: center;">
Monkey and I are both super blessed with great dads. This video is all about them. A big shout out to all the dads doing their best. Tyler Perry said it best when he wrote "and to those that aren't, it's never too late to start." Powerful words. Thanks for watching!</div>
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Don't forget to subscribe and give this video a thumbs up!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-17579655784768399512015-06-18T00:00:00.000-07:002015-06-18T00:00:00.767-07:00All Good Things...For a long time this blog has been known as a cooking blog for my domestically challenged alter ego. Unfortunately, since giving birth, I no longer have the time or brain cells to keep up with a written blog. However, I don't want to abandon having a creative outlet all together, so I've turned to vlogging. You can find my vlogging channel <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRCx5-ViyhURk4dzyAXGvtA">here</a> (be sure to click subscribe if you would like faster access to my videos) or you can continue to follow me here where I will also be posting my videos. If you really like a video, though, I'd appreciate it if you would go to my channel and give it a thumbs up. Thank you to all my readers who have stuck it out the past couple of years (and a couple of identity crises)! Here's my very first video explaining my transition. Enjoy! XO, Sara (what I have a real name?! Oh yes I do)<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16672684769086878169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-31460243997641307512015-02-10T20:24:00.000-08:002015-02-10T20:36:13.463-08:00First Time for EverythingHey I thought I'd try something different. Here's my first ever video blog...vlog. I apologize in advance for its awkward nature and the fact that I'm so cold I'm wearing a blanket on my head.<br>
<br><div><a href="https://www.facebook.com/sara.lloyd.33/posts/558220087069">https://www.facebook.com/sara.lloyd.33/posts/558220087069</a><br>
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</div>DCGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18232772934326701851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-32341127789120445022015-02-04T12:32:00.000-08:002015-02-04T12:32:08.615-08:00It Takes A VillageTruth: I am so glad January is over. If that month had one more day, i was going to have a full blown anxiety attack.<br />
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In order to get February kicked off right, I decided to take a ginormous step out of my comfort zone. After being encouraged by countless mommy friends to find out if my teeny tiny town has a Mothers of Preschoolers or MOPS group, I did. And it is not teeny, tiny.<br />
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There were probably forty to fifty mommies, mommies to be and mommy role models. Where did all these women my age with kids come from? Turns out, I even kind of sort of knew one of them because her husband works with Husband. For someone who is an extroverted introvert, I fully anticipated going in and being friendly if approached but was okay with mainly being ignored. Not the case. I was greeted warmly by a woman with a darling two month old strapped to her chest (Boba wrap for the win). She got Monkey and I name tags and assigned us to a table where again I was welcomed. The table leader had a personality as bright as her awesome fluorescent pink shirt. She showed me where the nursery was and here is where I bust out the Proud Mom t-shirt. Monkey walked in, let me put him down and just started toddling around while the four other kids were crying their eyes out. One of the volunteers handed him a toy and I was completely forgotten about. I left crossing my fingers that he would play nicely (and so would the other moms).<br />
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It was exactly what my soul needed. I have a great internet support group of women, some of whom I consider my best friends. However, there's something about sitting across from someone telling them about your son's obsession with books and having them nod along in solidarity. They get it. They've been there. They can still quote Little Blue Truck line by line. One mom even gave me her number and was like hey my kids are a little older but let's get together and have a play date. I don't care if your kids have their own kids, yes! Please be my friend. Please help me prove that I'm not as pathetic as I think I am when I realize I don't know anyone in a town I've lived in for three years.<br />
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This was an experience I can't wait to repeat. Every first and third Wednesday from 9:15 to 11:15,you will find me in at Faith Baptist Church. I'm looking forward to being a part of this group and maybe someday giving a new mom my own number and saying hey let's get together.<br />
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PS If you're interested in finding a MOPS group near you or maybe starting your own chapter, start at <a href="http://www.mops.org/">MOPS.org</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbH9jr6EqXGtm7AEsT5My6GzVNHA-7w_lKayxSDlw9V73xBZDngaQAooyHuUVR_E9Gkqy_YKYz4tZlCkX8BKrVuph0T2qj_NSVxHhNzDrI7WS0tSTmuwuWeKqJ0npPrCe-T2zsxlIZ8Y/s1600/25890_505784069269_7529969_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Girlfriends together" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbH9jr6EqXGtm7AEsT5My6GzVNHA-7w_lKayxSDlw9V73xBZDngaQAooyHuUVR_E9Gkqy_YKYz4tZlCkX8BKrVuph0T2qj_NSVxHhNzDrI7WS0tSTmuwuWeKqJ0npPrCe-T2zsxlIZ8Y/s1600/25890_505784069269_7529969_n.jpg" height="403" title="Friends hanging out" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back when I had friends. And a waist.</td></tr>
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<br />DCGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18232772934326701851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-9527199834031640852015-01-29T12:35:00.000-08:002015-01-29T20:25:31.131-08:00Life HappensI wish I knew where to begin with this post. The past few days have been obnoxiously overwhelming. Monkey had his first trip to the ER after a constant dry cough turned into wheezing which turned into struggling for breath. We are now the proud owners of a nebulizer and I've regressed sleep wise to when Monkey was about eight months old and I was still getting up once during the night to feed him. This has done nothing for my ability to be a productive employee and/or boss. I am thankful for the grace that was extended to me because of course none of this would happen on my days off.<br />
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I'm also beyond thankful for my partner in parenthood. From helping to get Monkey's prescription dropped off to taking a sick day to stay home to administer breathing treatments so I could go to work, you name it Husband did it. True love and I probably haven't done a very good job lately expressing my thanks since between PMS and sleep deprivation, I'm a biotch. Bi to the otch.<br />
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Ironically, I joined the #NoExcuses #Sweatpink challenge this year for fitness and it seems that's all I have these days. Excuses. By the time I put Monkey in his bed (and thank you Binky for all the sleep training encouragement because now he goes down like a boss), I'm stumbling around the house like a drunk because I'm too tired to walk straight. It's not uncommon for me to be in bed before the sun goes down because I know I will be up to greet it in the morning (all ugly thoughts for someone who loved life as a night owl).<br />
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What does one do when they realize that they are behind in getting ahead? (No really, this is not a rhetorical question, I really want to know what you do) I personally planning on just jumping back in the program on Sunday. If I tried to go back and make up all the challenges I already missed, I know for myself, that would be more discouraging than just admitting I fell off the wagon and jumping back on. I mean really, who makes the wagon back up just so they can see a repeat of the scenery? That's the perfect definition for the opposite of progress.<br />
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So here's your gratuitous picture of Monkey. And a gentle reminder that whatever I do, the choices I make, are not just having an effect on me. Thanks kid for the swift kick in the pants.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguU7udM8fGvfliGwK6E8NntNMcIdgeWFisjs2ZUEkiFJ8voxmnk5liW4NLCwcAMQ6RVDN5qiw79_qcfW_ePGYYhD1wybMdTtKzt9VJhIuNBWDD5Z-MPEGTA2lK7vReM8_fDNO4cL07jrE/s1600/IMG_0140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Life Parenting" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguU7udM8fGvfliGwK6E8NntNMcIdgeWFisjs2ZUEkiFJ8voxmnk5liW4NLCwcAMQ6RVDN5qiw79_qcfW_ePGYYhD1wybMdTtKzt9VJhIuNBWDD5Z-MPEGTA2lK7vReM8_fDNO4cL07jrE/s1600/IMG_0140.JPG" height="400" title="My son after his follow up doctor's appointment" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling bad, looking good</td></tr>
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<br />DCGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18232772934326701851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-613253840199422283.post-13911875419982840892015-01-17T06:10:00.000-08:002015-01-29T20:26:38.933-08:00Hide yo' kids, Hide yo' veggies<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/AVvXsEh-LWebqajPxJ9Uo9aCyk4MBryEObHgiG4eY1l1XsOuAt60LGLorB7QcUF6mPvoHk_pMwTzJk19sHWMmiTWEobxVFeWW6pyu1Fu_Ba8RR3CPG6YDxcxJHy08vkoags5ip1HIMnMdQ9h4QM/s1600/c33233da4795216aa2f3146a10929f5df94d00ec1898e542fbeeef8b7b7ad345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Beet" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LWebqajPxJ9Uo9aCyk4MBryEObHgiG4eY1l1XsOuAt60LGLorB7QcUF6mPvoHk_pMwTzJk19sHWMmiTWEobxVFeWW6pyu1Fu_Ba8RR3CPG6YDxcxJHy08vkoags5ip1HIMnMdQ9h4QM/s1600/c33233da4795216aa2f3146a10929f5df94d00ec1898e542fbeeef8b7b7ad345.jpg" height="281" title="Funny beet picture" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.quickmeme.com/meme/3sryfr">Source</a></td></tr>
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This year in an effort to be more consistent with <a href="http://domesticallychallengedgrrl.blogspot.com/2015/01/goooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllll.html">Goal #3</a> (and #1 too I suppose), I'm taking part in the #NoExcuses #SweatPink challenge. Back when I was a good little blogger (and runner), I became an SweatPink Ambassador or SPA. It's a great community of physically active bloggers who want to change the world one burpee at a time.<br />
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So as part of the challenge, every Sunday for the entire year, we receive an email that lays out a different task for each day of that week. I've done squats, ran/walked a mile and for today, I'm sharing a healthy snack with you. As if all my recipes weren't super healthy. Pffft. As if.<br />
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Becoming a mom put so much of life into perspective. Especially when it comes to food. From eating right while nursing to keep up supply and provide nutrients to now feeding a ever eating toddler (seriously, I cringe when I think about the teenage years of watching my kid go to the fridge at stare into only to come out with the fixings for a Dagwood sandwich).<br />
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Now I know how to eat to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I lost thirty pounds before I had Monkey by doing so. That was when I only had me to worry about. There was no teething, roaring, pooping pterodactyl screaming in my ear for me to put something, anything in front of him to devour. One of my biggest challenges is veggies. I'll eat them all day long. In fact, I even have favorite vegetables (asparagus, lima beans and peas are my top three. Stop gagging you big baby). Husband, on the other hand, will only eat corn. And not even corn in a variety of ways. Just corn or corn on the cob. Guess what vegetable I hate? Corn. And I actually loathe corn on the cob (my biggest nightmare involves eating corn on the cob and discovering that the dental floss factory has burned down).<br />
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So what's a girl to do to make sure her child is getting a balanced diet? She purees the shizz out of veggies and puts them in everything. No really, EVERYTHING.<br />
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Last night I opened a can of beets (small can, I wasn't even confident to begin with) to introduce to Monkey. Bad, just bad (how are these things a super food?!). Even I wouldn't try them. So bad. Rather than waste them because there are starving kids in China (thanks maternal unit for that therapy session), I pureed the beets with some frozen spinach, frozen fruit (I used a no sugar added blend) and water and voila! That puree will go in Monkey's oatmeal (part of his high iron diet). It will go in his plain Greek yogurt. Perfect for adding to pancakes and waffles. I may even spread some on his toast. Winning!<br />
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<u><b>Beet Puree</b></u></div>
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<a href="https://sites.google.com/site/theudg2010/beet-puree">Printable Version</a></div>
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1 8oz can sliced beets</div>
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1/4 cup frozen chopped spinach</div>
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1/2 cup frozen fruit of choice</div>
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water (enough to help liquify)</div>
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Place all ingredients in blender. Blend until desired consistency. (Mine was smoothie like)</div>
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DCGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18232772934326701851noreply@blogger.com0